Page 72 of Throne Off Course

“Is that so?” her father asked mildly. “The newspapers mentioned some controversy about him questioning the marriage law.”

Emilia froze. Of course her parents would have done their research.

“It’s complicated,” she admitted.

“Life often is, ma chérie,” her mother said gently. “Especially when it involves handsome princes who look at you like you’ve rearranged their understanding of the universe.”

As they toured the exhibition, her parents offered professional insights while exchanging glances that spoke volumes—thekind of wordless communication built through decades of shared understanding.

When they reached the section on King James Philip’s reforms, her father paused. “You’ve included his failures alongside his accomplishments. That’s unexpected from a royal exhibition.”

“That was Prince Alexander’s decision,” Emilia said, the admission slipping out naturally. “He insisted on honesty, even when it wasn’t flattering to the monarchy.”

Her parents exchanged another look—a silent assessment that made Emilia both curious and uncomfortable.

Later, as they prepared to leave for dinner, her father studied her thoughtfully. “Emilia, as your philosopher father, I feel compelled to point out what Sartre taught us about choice: pretending we have no choice is itself a choice—often the most self-deceptive one. When it comes to matters of the heart, acknowledging the truth is the first step toward authentic freedom.”

“Papa, please don’t turn my exhibition into a philosophical lecture.”

He smiled. “I’m merely suggesting that perhaps your insistence on professional distance has more to do with fear than with any actual impossibility.”

Emilia felt a lump forming in her throat. “It’s not that simple.”

“It never is,” her mother agreed, her voice softening. “But ma chérie, the most beautiful art comes from embracing complexity, not running from it.”

As Emilia led her parents toward the museum’s grand entrance, her mother still discussing potential restaurants, a familiar voice called out from across the marble foyer. “Emilia! Just the person I was looking for.”

Sebastian Hawthorne strode toward them, effortlessly elegantas always, his smile widening as he noted her companions. “And you must be Dr. Carter’s parents. What a pleasure.”

Emilia suppressed a groan. Of all the people to run into right now—Sebastian was the last person she needed charming her already-too-perceptive parents.

“Lord Sebastian Hawthorne,” she said reluctantly. “These are my parents, Dr. Josephine Beaumont-Carter and Professor Richard Carter.”

Sebastian turned his full attention to her mother, taking her hand with a courtly gesture. “Dr. Beaumont-Carter, enchanted to meet you,” he said, then seamlessly switched to flawless French. “Votre fille est l’une des personnes les plus brillantes que j’aie jamais rencontrées.”

Josephine’s eyes widened with delight. “Mais votre français est impeccable! Où l’avez-vous appris?”

“Paris,” Sebastian replied, still in French. “My mother was French. We lived there until I was ten.”

“Ah! Quel quartier?” Josephine asked eagerly.

“Saint-Germain-des-Prés,” Sebastian answered with a nostalgic smile.

“C’est mon quartier préféré!” Josephine exclaimed, completely charmed. She turned to Emilia with newfound interest. “You didn’t mention your colleagues were so cultured, ma chérie.”

Emilia shot Sebastian a warning look. “Lord Hawthorne is not exactly a colleague. He’s more of a… palace fixture.”

“Professional nuisance is the term Alexander prefers,” Sebastian clarified cheerfully. “Though I prefer to think of myself as providing essential cultural enrichment to anotherwise tedious institution.”

Richard Carter studied Sebastian with philosophical interest. “And what exactly is your role in all this, Lord Hawthorne?”

Sebastian’s smile was perfectly calibrated. “Officially? I liaise between the aristocracy and the crown. Unofficially?” He leaned in slightly. “I make sure Alexander remembers how to function as a human being instead of a royal robot.”

Josephine laughed, clearly delighted. “And you’re doing an excellent job.”

“Your approval means everything, madame,” Sebastian replied with a theatrical bow.

Emilia cleared her throat. “We were just heading to dinner, Sebastian.”