Chapter 3
THREE
Leo was late, and Joshua was a bundle of nerves.
He’d slipped out of Mo’s flat shortly after eight, while Tristan and Mo had still been out for the count and unable to ask uncomfortable questions.
After picking up some fresh ingredients from the organic shop around the corner, Joshua had set to work.
Now it was ten past nine, and everything was ready but the bread and eggs.
He tugged at the knot of his apron and went to check that he hadn’t forgotten anything when he’d laid out the table outside.
Even though he’d been waiting for it, the sound of the doorbell made him jump. Right. This was it.
Time to face the music.
The door viewer showed Leo looking out at the street, shifting from foot to foot.
For a moment, Joshua was transfixed by the line of Leo’s profile—hair sweeping across his forehead, the clear cut of his nose, a hint of stubble, and the curve of his thin upper lip which was offset by a more generous bottom lip. He was kind of stunning.
It wasn’t the point of this meeting, though. At all. Leo’s behaviour had not invited inappropriate delusions on Joshua’s part. Mostly.
“Top floor,” Joshua spoke into the transmission before he buzzed Leo up. He left the door open and went to place the bread in the pan, listening for the sound of movement in the stairway. The old wood creaked with each footstep.
“Hello?” Leo called when he reached the door.
“Kitchen,” Joshua replied. “Come on in.”
A second later, Leo poked his head into the room.
He was barefoot, wearing a band T-shirt and tight jeans, looking like he’d hopped off a runway.
With a start, Joshua realised he was still in his apron, the one Tristan had given him which projected a woman’s body onto Joshua’s chest. Mortifying. Quickly, Joshua yanked it off.
The gleam of amusement in Leo’s eyes made it clear he’d seen it. Fortunately, he didn’t comment. “No bodyguard?” he asked, drawing closer. It was followed by, “Wait, you were actually serious about that homemade breakfast.”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” Joshua used a spatula to check the slices of bread.
Another minute on this side before he could turn them over.
“And I didn’t feel like it. Security detail, I mean.
Johnson was my main one, and he should have been on duty until this afternoon, but—you know.
So.” Avoiding Leo’s eyes, he crouched down to peer into the oven; the sausages and bacon glistened with grease, the smell wafting through the kitchen.
“I get it,” Leo said after a beat of silence.
Joshua exhaled and glanced over his shoulder for a quick smile. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” Leo’s gaze swept over the space, lingering on a blackboard that contained some to-do’s and a packing list for Spain, interspersed with Mo’s doodles.
Stepping closer to the fridge, Leo examined the photographs Joshua had put up there, random shots of things that had caught his attention.
Leo’s voice was absent as he asked, “You need help with anything?”
Joshua flipped the bread. “It’s fine. Almost done.”
Silence wrapped around them while Joshua prepared the eggs, the gas hob hissing gently, typical city noises spilling in through the open windows.
It was quite possible that the mild awkwardness hanging between them was only in Joshua’s imagination.
For his part, Leo seemed content to amble around the kitchen, openly curious as he examined this and that.
Without asking for permission to explore, he disappeared into the attached living room.
Joshua should have expected something like this; after all, Leo had disregarded conventions from the moment they’d met, in spite of his familiarity with official protocol.
It was as intriguing as it was frustrating.
Much like Leo himself.
While Leo appeared to venture further into the flat, Joshua piled the food onto two plates, nicely arranging bread and eggs, bacon, sausages, tomatoes, mushrooms and black pudding. “Breakfast’s ready,” he called. “Out on the terrace.”
Leo’s vaguely affirmative noise drifted back from somewhere.
Not that there was that much for him to explore—kitchen, living room, master bedroom, a guest room and a large bathroom was the extent of Joshua’s flat.
It was plenty of space for one person of course, and Joshua wondered what Leo would make of it: a generously sized flat in Camden, overlooking Regent’s Canal but off the beaten tourist paths, in a street lined with old, distinguished houses.
Joshua stepped into the sunlight and felt heat soak through his T-shirt.
“Nice place,” Leo said when he joined Joshua on the terrace. At Joshua’s questioning look, he elaborated. “Really. Less velvet and heavy drapes than I expected. It’s all upscale hipster.” His mouth curled up at the corners. “I like how your bed is built into the alcove. Nice work, that.”
Joshua was not going to think about Leo casually strolling into his bedroom. There be dragons. “Velvet and heavy drapes? I’m gay, not sixty.”
“Royal, though. In all honesty…”—Leo shrugged and dropped into one of the outdoor chairs—“I didn’t think much about what to expect.
I’m not some monarchy groupie who religiously buys Hello!
magazine to read your home stories and plans for baby princes and princesses.
” Then he grinned. “Guess your succession planning’s on hold for the moment. ”
“That’s Emma’s duty to the Crown. I’m just the spare.
” Joshua put a plate in front of Leo and sat down himself, watching Leo bend over his food to inhale deeply.
Leo’s lashes were long and thick, sunlight turning their tips golden, and his cheekbones were prominent.
Briefly, Joshua let himself drink in the sight.
Then he pulled his focus away. “There’s freshly pressed orange juice and tea.
Or would you like coffee? Hot chocolate? ”
“You’re not sixty, and I’m not six,” Leo told him.
“So no hot chocolate, thank you very much. I could go for tea, though.” He helped himself to a cup without giving Joshua a chance to serve him.
Only now that Joshua was looking at Leo’s fingers did he notice a jittery quality to his motions, and was it possible that Leo’s decidedly nonchalant manner was designed to hide a case of nerves?
Did Joshua have the power to affect him at least a little?
Or Leo might just be a naturally jittery person, and Joshua was getting ahead of himself.
Joshua sank back into his chair. “Well, go ahead and help yourself.”
“Always.” Leo sniffed the tea before he took a small sip and nodded his approval.
Then he shot Joshua a sharp look over the rim of his cup.
“You know what’s interesting?” He didn’t wait for a reply.
“You. You let me snoop around your flat and call you Princeling, and you don’t say a word in protest. But when it’s about your friends or the institution of monarchy? That’s when you become a baby lion.”
“A baby lion,” Joshua repeated flatly. It was the easiest part of Leo’s comment to focus on.
“A baby lion,” Leo confirmed. “It’s a natural conclusion, what with that wild mane you call hair.” He followed it up with a tiny roar that came out as more of a sad kitten meow, one of his hands coming up to claw at thin air, and oh, now that wasn’t fair. Joshua didn’t want to find him endearing.
To cover up the heat rising to his face, Joshua concentrated on his food, cutting a mushroom into even halves and spearing one with a bite of tomato.
When he glanced up, Leo was squinting into the sun, his chair balanced on its hind legs.
An old oak tree rose behind him, shielding the terrace from view and granting the kind of privacy Joshua appreciated.
“Why is there a bed on your terrace?” Leo pointed his thumb at the wooden frame that was set against the wall, a canopy protecting the mattress from the worst of the weather.
“It’s an outdoor sofa,” Joshua said. Which wasn’t a reply, of course, and he needed to get a grip and stop allowing Leo to unsettle him like this. “Doubling as a bed. I sleep out here sometimes. When it’s hot in summer.”
For some reason, that seemed to shut Leo up. He looked away and took a dainty bite of his bacon, wiped his mouth with a napkin afterwards before offering a polite, “This is really very good.”
“Thank you,” Joshua said. “And thank you for coming. I really don’t mind paying you for your time, by the way. As you may have gleaned from your casual perusal of Hello! magazine, I’m loaded.”
“No.” Leo’s tone carried a strange finality, and Joshua didn’t understand him at all.
Leo was an enigma: obviously well educated, remarkably familiar with royal conventions, yet disdainful of nobility and what it represented.
Had he dated a noble, maybe? Someone who’d disappointed him, had possibly even broken his heart?
What if it had been someone who’d attended Eton?
That would explain how Leo knew of College Chapel. It would explain a lot, actually.
Joshua spent too much time thinking about Leo, and not enough time thinking about the reason he’d asked Leo to come here. He needed to sort out his priorities.
Reaching for his orange juice, Joshua stared down at his plate.
He wasn’t particularly hungry anymore. “Okay,” he said quietly.
“Then I won’t offer anymore, but please let it be known that I did.
So, I guess that… Um. Like, why I asked you here.
I guess I’d like to know your opinion. On me coming out.
On why you think it would be a good idea. ”
Leo chewed carefully, and then swallowed. His eyes were clear and calm, focused on Joshua’s face. “Let’s do this the other way around. What’s stopping you?”
Joshua should have been prepared for Leo to cut straight to the chase, but he hadn’t been. His head felt oddly empty for the second that followed Leo’s words. Nothing but blank space and white noise.