Page 13 of Royally Redeemed
“It was a different time in my life, as is this. And my promise to you all at home—and to my family and friends—is that I will do better to educate myself about the ways language disproportionately harms women. Words hurt. Language matters. And, as a public figure, I am held to a much higher standard—as I should be.”
I did agree with all of the above even if I was sore about being labelled a misogynist when I said the same things everyone said.
Next came the lie. I battened down the hatches.
“Prior to this, I hoped to announce I was returning to RAF Valley to assist in the air traffic control shortage. Unfortunately, that is now overshadowed by my harmful words. I plan to do my best job to help relieve the stress of those currently serving who may now go on to assist in the civilian holiday travel rush. Given my current misstep, it will be the least I can do to assist.”
Too bad I don’t want to.I loathed that time in my life which had, off and on, become my brand of Good Boy when I was ever capable holding down that label for more than five minutes. It was boring and unfulfilling; but if it was that or disappointing my poor mother, I would choose to suffer boredom one hundred times over.
“To those who continue to taunt Lady LeRoux, please do not. She is a kindhearted person. She did not deserve my words then. She certainly does not deserve harassment now. No one does.”
I took one final pause and looked at the room to see relaxed faces. I hadn’t cocked up.
“Thank you and good evening.”
“And… we’re out!”
Everyone broke up.
Miss Mills smiled, “You did a great job.”
Before I could say a word, my mother burst in and gave me the biggest hug and most embarrassing kiss on the cheek. Well, I’d done alright! If only for Mum. Miss Mills would have to wait.
Miss Mills said, “If you all do not mind, Your Majesty and Your Royal Highnesses, I am going to take off for the evening. We will be in touch tomorrow?”
“Sounds wonderful. Thank you, Miss Mills,” Mum said. “Give Mrs.. Forest our best. I hope she soon is holding her baby.”
“Yes, ma’am. I am about to call her.”
“Yes, thanks, Miss Mills,” I said. “I appreciate it.”
Miss Mills nodded and disappeared into the ether. Someday, I would get her alone. Maybe I stood a chance again? Chasing her was a terrible idea. I had just promised to do better. And yet, I wanted to imagine myself between her thighs. This is why I would never manage to be king. Men like me weren’t cut out for the job.
8
GREENWICH
ELOISE
Imade it home forty-five minutes after I left Buckingham Palace. Mark, Abi’s husband, called to let me know they had a six-pound baby girl who was doing well. Abi was just out of surgery and would be open to visitors tomorrow. I planned to drop by and check in on Mum and baby as well as bring some food—after a good night’s sleep in my own bed.
Then, of course, before I even made it in my building, I got a call from Jax.
“Yes, Jax?”
“I am going to need you to go in tomorrow and deal with the Prince and such.”
“Jax, I haven’t slept in two days. I was planning on spending Saturday visiting Abi at the hospital and helping her mum ready the house for the baby.”
“Yeah, that won’t do. You’re headed to Wales.”
“What?”
“I spoke to Her Majesty’s people just now. Sleep, sure. And go hold a baby if you must, but at 3PM tomorrow, you must be at London City and ready to spend the next few weeks in Walessettling the Prince in. Your job is to babysit him and work on his image.”
“Babysit him?” I scoffed. “For an indeterminate period of time?”
“Your must use whatever skills you may possess to convince him to agree to the bloody documentary. Can you do that?”
