Page 63 of Scandal Queen

“No.” Oliver stared at his father. “We do things wrong. Why can’t you see it’s why no one takes us seriously anymore. If we were more active within society then we would give people less to gossip about because we wouldn’t be so different from them.”

“Oliver!” The King bellowed. “We are not normal. We are the royal family. It’s an honour that has passed from one generation to another. You need to forget all this folly you have of being normal, because you aren’t.”

Oliver glared at his father and then shook his head slowly. “We need to agree to disagree on that point, Father, because I don’t believe that to be the case anymore. We are normal people. Society shouldn’t be split by those who wear a crown and those that don’t.”

My intense pride that Oliver spoke up for himself suffered a serious setback by the fact I knew he spoke my words not his own. These were the sentiments I’d shared with him when we first met. Now he fought with his family, with the whole palace, to say them.

The King cleared his throat. “The best thing to do is for us to announce the child will become a countess in the New Year Honours list. That way she is protected within the fold of the family.”

Oliver’s olive skin leached to a pale hue. “No. That decision comes from Leia and I.”

I stared between them. From the corner of my peripheral vision I could see the Queen shaking her head. “Henry, darling, I don’t think you can rush that.”

“No, you can’t.” Oliver snapped. He pushed back from the table. “So you aren’t open to spending Christmas with us here in London, where people will see us, get to know us?”

Henry’s face settled into a firm mask, and Marcus, who I’d happily punch, shook his head. “No, we will go to Wales as is tradition.”

Oliver leaned across the table. “Father, being a royal shouldn’t be about tradition. It should be about the people.”

The King’s shoulders fell slightly and the Queen reached over. “I hope one day soon, Oliver, you’ll realise that the two things are inextricably linked, and that without one, the other can’t exist.”

With a small shake of his head Oliver turned for the door.

I hesitated. My legs unwilling to move.

Everything happening here was because of me.

“I’m sorry.”

King Henry looked up, a smile on his face. “This isn’t just about you, Leia.” He sat up straighter. “Can Daisy come for a ride after school?”

The fact he preferred the company of my child to me twisted a little in my gut like a blunt knife, but I sent him a small smile regardless. “If she’d like to and she’s not too tired.”

I went to follow Oliver, my feet the scuffed steps of a reprimanded teenager. “Leia.” The Queen called back.

“Yes, Your Highness?”

“Try to keep him off the streets. The backlash won’t be pretty.”

“The backlash?” I asked but my attention was caught by Oliver pacing along the hallway and I shot her a wave and dashed after him momentarily forgetting about her words.

Not for long though.

Definitely not long enough.

* * *

“What’s happening?” I plopped down on the sofa and lifted my legs across his lap.

He blinked up at me, momentarily distracted, his gaze far away. The news ran in the background. “Did she go to sleep okay?”

I nodded and picked up the glass of red he’d poured for me while I’d been upstairs with Daisy. “The school seem to be protecting her.” I took a sip of the wine. “And I think they have enough students there who live a very discreet life. Did you know the Chelsea Football Club owner’s son goes there?”

“He does?” Oliver lifted an eyebrow, but his attention still lingered on the television screen.

“Turn it off, Ollie. We don’t need to watch this.”

“I hate the fact they are criticising you as a mother.”