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Ben stands in the doorway, his hands in the pockets of his navy blazer. He smiles like nothing ever happened, like we’re one big, happy family reuniting for the holidays, and as his blue eyes settle on me, a shiver runs down my spine.
“Benedict,” says Kit with more self-control than I’ve ever possessed in my life. “I was under the impression you weren’t coming to Sandringham this year.”
Ben shrugs. “Mummy insisted I join her. You know how she is,” he adds with what I used to think was charming geniality. “Once she has her mind set on something, there’s no talking her out of it.”
“I’m sure you could’ve come up with an excuse,” says Maisie, sugary venom dripping from every word. “Like maybe the fact that none of us wants you here. His Majesty hasn’t forgotten what you did, and rest assured, neither have we.”
Hurt flickers across his face, so real I almost feel sorry for him. But he’s Ben. He’s the one who tried to ruin my life—who could still ruin Maisie’s with a single slip of the tongue—and even after all these months, I still have no idea why.
“I did some terrible things over the summer,” he says. “Awful things I’ll never be able to erase. And I know I don’t deserve a second chance, but if you’d all be willing to indulge me for a moment…especially you, Evan.”
He gestures toward the drawing room, where the adults are gathered. I shrink back, a sour taste in my mouth, but before I can refuse, Maisie cuts in.
“We don’t need your fake apologies, Benedict. We need you to leave.”
“And I will,” he says. “Right after Christmas. Please—this won’t take long, and it’ll save me from trying to explain the details of this whole mess to Mummy.”
Inexplicably, this seems to be the thing that thaws Maisie’s stubbornness, and she and Kit exchange a look I don’t understand. “Fine,” she snaps. “But in five minutes, we’re all leaving.”
“What?” I say, stunned she’s given in so easily. Before I can properly protest, however, Maisie loops her arm in mine and yanks me forward, and it’s all I can do to keep my balance as she drags me after Ben and into the white drawing room.
As soon as we step over the threshold—or, in my case, stumble and nearly face-plant on the rug—the hum of conversation falls silent, and all eyes are on us. I’m not surprised that Alexander’s expression is a mixture of fury and concern, or that Constance’s and Helene’s are impossible to read. But the worry written on Nicholas’s face is disconcerting, and Venetia…
Venetia, Duchess of York, Ben’s mother and Nicholas’s ex-wife, is looking at me like we’re standing outside a chocolate factory, and I’m her golden ticket in.
“Evangeline!” she cries, rising to her feet and crossing the room in her towering heels. “At last. It’s such a pleasure, my darling.”
I stand stock-still as she presses her lips to my cheeks in a double kiss, and when she looks me up and down, it takes everything I have not to wipe off the magenta lipstick stains she’s undoubtedly left behind.
“Mummy,” says Ben imploringly. “I have something I’d like to say to everyone.”
“Oh, yes, button. Of course,” says Venetia, and she winks at me like she knows exactly what’s coming before bustling back to her seat.
Ben clears his throat, gazing solemnly around the room at each of us. “I appreciate your time, and I won’t waste it,” he begins. “It’s no secret that over the summer, I was…less than my best self.”
Maisie scoffs. “That’s putting it mildly,” she mutters, and while Ben must hear her, he doesn’t look our way.
“I won’t make excuses,” continues Ben. “There are none, anyway, that could possibly justify my actions, particularly my treatment of Evangeline.”
Though he says my name, he still doesn’t give me more than a passing glance, and I’m not sure whether to be relieved or creeped out. Kit wraps his arm around my shoulders, as if he alone can stand between Ben and whatever words he’s about to wield, and I let myself lean into him.
“As a member of this family—the royal family—it’s easy to forget how isolated we are from the rest of the world,” says Ben.“Not just physically, but emotionally, too. It’s always been hard for me to let strangers in, and I’ll admit, I struggled to accept Evan. The entire situation was…jarring, and with Jasper’s death and the fallout that happened…well.” He gives a perfect imitation of a self-loathing scowl. “It made me question everything important in my life, and I became a person I wasn’t proud of.
“But my time in Kenya gave me the opportunity to open up,” he adds. “To relax, to forget about the pressures of being royal, and to reexamine my priorities. Those months allowed me to reflect on what I was doing with my life and how I was conducting myself in the name of this family, and all I felt was shame. While I know nothing will ever make up for my abysmal behavior, these few days together are my chance to show you I’ve changed, and I’m asking you—begging you—to let me.”
It’s a moving speech, or at least I think it might be if anyone else were giving it. But all I feel is the cold, hard lump of anger and bewilderment settling in the pit of my stomach, and I glance around at the others, searching for—I don’t know. Support, maybe. Comradery in thinking that Ben is full of shit.
Instead, Venetia is dabbing her eyes, as if Ben has just announced his nomination for sainthood. Nicholas looks reluctantly resigned, and while Constance’s expression has barely changed, the corners of her mouth are angled the slightest bit upward, which is more of a smile than I’ve ever seen from her before. Even Helene is studying Ben like she’s contemplating his request.
Only my father and Maisie look as disdainful as I feel. But rather than tell Ben to piss off, Alexander straightens to his full height, every bit a king now as he was with President Park.
“Your behavior wasn’t only unacceptable, Benedict,” he says with quiet hostility that’s impossible to miss. “It was a threat to this family and to the monarchy itself.”
“I know,” says Ben, and I swear I see him gulp. “You have every right to throw me out in the cold and slam the door, Uncle Alexander, and I don’t think anyone in this room would blame you.”
Venetia sniffs, and it’s clear she, at least, will fight to the death to protect her monster of a son. Alexander’s gaze flickers toward her, but he refocuses on Ben almost immediately and considers him for an uncomfortably long moment.
“You may be my nephew,” says Alexander, “but Evangeline is my daughter. And from this moment on, you will treat her with the respect to which she’s fully entitled.”
