Page 103 of Scandal Queen

“After you, my love.”

I followed the sound of some utterly tuneless Christmas carolling and went to find just about everyone I knew in the kitchen.

“Yaaay!” Cheers went up as we walked in and my cheeks burned with the fire of a thousand suns.

Ollie laughed and kissed my neck. “For the record, I don’t always get greeted when I walk into a room like that.”

I elbowed him in the ribs and went to where Daisy and Nana peeled potatoes next to some woman from the telly. Nana’s eyes were wide and I gave her a shrug.

This was officially a Christmas unlike any other.

For a family unlike any other.

Twenty-Four

“For fuck’s sake.” The remote control splintered as it hit the wall.

“Oliver, please.”

“No!” His roar almost split my eardrums. He slumped, his head down on his knees. I was kind of glad the remote had hit the wall and not the glass pane that created the back wall of Greystone.

“It’s okay; we knew this was going to happen. Your dad did warn us. And Marcus.”

I’d been right. On the television screen, which had been muted because honestly, I couldn’t hear it anyway over the swearing and mumbling coming from next to me, the Boxing Day news broadcast focused on the royal engagement that hadn’t yet been announced by the palace.

Yes, of course all of Oliver’s generosity had been talked about. Lots of arseholes had appeared, saying that he was trying to buy the affection of the city; but the main focus seemed to be on four diamonds and silence from the palace.

I’d fucked up. Again.

“I should have taken it off. I’m sorry.”

He looked at me, his expression as dark as thunder, as dark as the snow clouds that still hung over most of England. “No. This is my father’s fault because he’s trying to manage scandal. He doesn’t care that I’ve met my true love, or that I’m desperate to tell everyone. He wants to just do the right thing. It’s always the right thing for the family above everything else.”

The news flickered to old footage of Ollie and Charlotte. My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth as I watched them walk out of a restaurant holding hands.

It hurt. I couldn’t lie. Watching him do normal things, like go on a date, when we’d never managed anything like that because of how ‘different’ I was.

I sat up straighter. I might be different to her, but it was in more important ways than anyone else would ever know. I’d never do to him what she did.

He was different with me. My Ollie gave one hundred and fifty members of London’s poor a Christmas to remember just yesterday. The old Oliver Beaufort would never have done that. He’d never have sat at a little battered piano and played for everyone to hear, while singing cockney classics like, My Old Man’s a Dustman, making everyone howl with laughter. I made that man, the way that he made me who I now was.

“We should go back to the palace tomorrow,” I suggested. I didn’t want to. I’d liked coming to Greystone yesterday evening, putting Daisy to bed, and then us being able to be ourselves away from the palace. Fenmore was special, and it was mine, but it still sat on the grounds of the main palace. Here it really was just us.

“No.”

Ignoring his barked response, I got up and went to retrieve the remote, slotting the batteries back in, and turning up the volume.

“The silence from the palace is very confusing at this time.” The camera cut back to Ava Bond the royal reporter, and the studio anchor who looked like he’d rather be home eating turkey sandwiches instead of discussing royal romance. “Having two royal engagements in one year isn’t unheard of, but it’s never happened for the same member of the royal family before. One can only consider if royal advisors have suggested that the prince takes time out to consider whether this is the decision he wants to make.”

Ollie’s gasp filled the room.

I slunk back into the sofa and gripped my glass of wine.

“But the couple seemed happy in footage from yesterday. Onlookers, people of the public who were lucky enough to speak with them, said they radiated with happiness,” turkey sandwich man said, and I wanted to high-five the dude—and give him a sandwich.

More footage flashed up. Ollie holding a sleeping Daisy as we stepped out to his car at the end of the very long day, one of his hands holding mine which he then rose in a small wave to people who’d gathered outside.

“Ollie, we achieved a lot yesterday. Not only did all those people donate their time, and we got all those amazing donations, but all those people, they actually left their homes on Christmas Day so they could come and see us.” He didn’t react to my words, his attention focused on the screen. The footage followed us as a small girl waved at me from where a boundary had been placed. Ollie hadn’t wanted to pull security in, but Bill had arrived anyway, with his family in tow to help out. I’d shown little surprise at his arrival. His boss was on the news, he wasn’t going to sit at home stuffing mince pies in his mouth.