Page 3 of Cross Me

Suddenly, I was ready to take my daily meetings. Anything was better than dealing with the family. The Prime Minister wanted to discuss the budget and climate change initiatives, topics I usually found mind-numbingly boring, especially since Parliament was likely to enact whatever budget or legislation they saw fit. The reminder that my grandmother and uncle had decided to return to London was another piece of bad news. Issues of national politics felt positively tame compared to the tangle of family politics that would soon capture me.

“They’ve chosen Kensington?” I couldn’t help but be surprised. I’d expected there to be a fight over Clarence House, the first home I’d occupied with Clara after our marriage. It seemed like the choice my grandmother would make, if only to spite me.

“I believe they were told that Clarence House had potential occupants.”

This was news to me. I sat back in my office chair and waited, wondering if it was too early for Scotch.

“It’s not official,” Norris said. “I thought it prudent to reserve the premises given your brother’s new marital status.”

“Good thinking. Clara had pitched Windsmoor.”

“I assume you told her it was—”

“Falling apart,” I finished. “I think she meant to give them more privacy than London might afford them.”

Norris and I hadn’t had the opportunity to discuss Edward’s wedding present, but it was customary for the reigning monarch to gift a residence to close members of the family. I’d been avoiding the conversation, excusing myself from it by reminding anyone who asked, mostly Clara, that Edward and David were still on their honeymoon. Still, I couldn’t avoid it forever. I feared my brother would prefer a country estate. It would make sense. It was the choice I would have made had I not been forced to keep a permanent residence in London. Keeping Clarence House open and offering it to Edward felt right. I wanted my brother nearby. He was the only blood relation I trusted and a friend and advisor.

“Will that be all?” Norris’s eyes twinkled as he spoke. He was testing me, calling me out for trying to be dismissive earlier.

I leaned back in my seat, crossing my arms behind my head. “I don’t suppose I could convince you to go to that symposium.”

He levelled an incredulous stare in my direction. “Given Clara’s condition, it would be better not to upset her.”

“I wish you were with her.” This time I wasn’t teasing. I was deadly serious. But he had a point. Clara had made her desires known and undermining her would only cause a fight. While I liked making up with her after an argument, I also wanted to see that she was healthy. None of that meant I had to do nothing.

“Keep an eye on the situation,” I ordered him. “I want to know if there’s someone with so much as a sniffle around her.”

Norris opened his mouth as if to respond but then thought better of it. He shook his head as he turned to look into it, but as he crossed the threshold of my office, I could swear I heard him mutter, “Stubborn arse.”

The Prime Minister reminded me of my father, which was to say he looked like most Englishmen of a certain age: light hair and skin creased with wrinkles from years of apologetic gymnastics, usually wearing tweed. Next to each other, the two of us looked like night and day. Despite spending most of my time in cabinet meetings and offices, I had my mother’s rich olive skin tone. I was suddenly grateful to my mother’s Greek heritage for the influx of fresh genes.

Prime Minister Clark was unfailingly gracious and forgiving of the fact I was obviously distracted. With my thoughts on Clara and her event, he’d had to repeat himself several times, making the meeting drag on. We’d taken armchairs by the fireplace in my private office. He was the only politician I met with in closed quarters. No one, not even Norris, attended these meetings. It was meant to encourage a spirit of cooperation. Not for the first time, I wondered if the meetings were even necessary. He had his business and I had mine. We were both busy running very different aspects of the United Kingdom. As he informed me about the latest news on a climate change initiative, I wondered what he would think if he knew the concerns preoccupying me.

“My family stance on climate change is well documented,” I reminded him.

“Not everyone will be thrilled with the sanctions,” he warned me.

“Do I look overly concerned with my popularity?”

Clark tipped his head, something like a laugh escaping his lips. “The press is crucifying you.”

“When I was young, I couldn’t do anything right. Now that I’m older, I still can’t.”

“Welcome to being a politician.”

“Isn’t that your job?” I only wished it were true. Most of Britain’s politics filtered through Parliament and I was expected to simply support or criticize legislation, have a stance on issues affecting my people, and to be up-to-date on all major discussions before Parliament. The government had throttled some of the Crown’s powers over the last few years and the monarchy had been turning more and more responsibility over to His Majesty’s Government for the last few centuries. That didn’t absolve my obligations to my position.

“I should warn you that there are some minority factions in the House of Lords who are questioning the choice to allow Edward to remain in the line of succession.”

“That’s not really for them to be concerned about.” My fist clenching as I imagined getting my hands on one of the dissenters.

“I suppose the authority rests with you—”

“There is no suppose about it. The authority does rest with me. Not that it should be a question at all. I thought Britain was in the twenty-first century.”

“It’s more about perception. It might strain our relationships with our more conservative allies.”

“Sod them.” I couldn’t help myself. It was my duty to play nice—to act the part of the benevolent king—but I never had much luck hiding my protective streak when it came to my family. That we were still having this argument, even after a year of letting people warm up to the idea of my brother’s wedding, pissed me off.