Page 16 of Cross Me

I swiped a coat of lipstick on and nodded with satisfaction to Edward. He pulled out his phone and took a quick picture. I glared at him. “That better not wind up on the Internet.”

“I’m sending it to Belle. Don’t worry,” he said quickly, “I’ll crop it! Although, do you know what this photo would sell for? The first picture of the Royal baby bump?”

“Don’t remind me,” I groaned. Soon there would be betting pools across the world regarding everything from the sex of the child I carried to what we would name him or her. I was going to need a brave face over the next few months. I knew I could handle whatever they threw at me, but Alexander needed to know the same.

“At least it’s only grandmother and Henry tonight. Good practice,” Edward said sympathetically. “On second thought, she might be worse than the press.”

We exchanged a worried look. The truth was that if there was one person in the world more set on destroying me than the tabloids or our enemies, it was a member of my own family—and she was coming to dinner tonight.

I’d asked the kitchen to prepare something that would be easy on my stomach and meet his grandmother’s dietary requirements. I was still struggling with keeping food down. The morning sickness never seemed to end. It was different than my first pregnancy when all I did was cry. The chef, who was in my on my secret, had chosen a salad and mild chicken soup to start and even more bland roast chicken for the main course. It probably wasn’t the fancy, extravagant meal the Queen Mother was expecting, but it was one I expected I could keep down. It would seriously undermine my plans to lose my supper in front of her.

Edward and I arrived early, wanting to make certain that all of the arrangements had been made. We had obsessed over every detail: who was sitting where, what wine was being offered, and how sharp the butter knives were. The family had never resorted to using cutlery as weaponry before, but there was a first time for everything. Between Mary’s constant criticism and my hormones, it was best to be on the safe side.

“This was the right choice,” Edward said with approval as he looked over the place settings.

“Do you think?” I needed every detail to be perfect.

“I believe this was created for my father’s coronation.” He picked up a plate and looked it over before carefully replacing it. “My mother picked it out.”

The table was set with a china pattern that had been a favorite of Alexander’s mother. We used it often for private family meals. Right now, I wanted to remind my husband of the strength of family. I also wanted to send a clear message to Mary, who had been the one to pick out the last 25 years’ worth of China. This family could both respect tradition and stand on its own. My fingers skimmed over the elegant silver design of the plates, lingering at the monogram centered on the rim. The A and C had represented Albert of Cambridge. I could imagine how Elizabeta had felt as she picked out these plates. I’d never met her—she had died when Alexander was very young—but there were touches like this all over Buckingham Palace—small nods to the love she must have felt for that man. Alexander’s father had changed after her death, so I had never known the version of him that had inspired such obvious affection. Now, the A and C represented something else to me entirely.

Alexander and Clara.

It was a merging of the old with the new. It was also a reminder that we were in charge of the monarchy now, and I wasn’t about to let anyone, even Alexander’s grandmother, forget that.

As seven o’clock approached, Mary and her younger son, who I’d only met in passing at my engagement party and a few other family gatherings, appeared. It was always a shock to see Henry. He looked so much like Albert that sometimes, when we were in the same room, I caught myself doing a double take. The looks they shared were the Cambridge family genetics before Elizabeta had introduced her Greek lineage. My own child had dark hair and electric blue eyes. It was hard to say whether Elizabeth’s skin would take after her father’s golden hue or my own pale porcelain, but I wondered what Mary thought when she looked at her. Perhaps, it was the striking difference between Alexander and her own sons that made her wary of him. It has been clear since the moment we’d been introduced that she despised her grandchildren. I’d never bothered to find out why. The mere fact that she hated them was enough for me to return that feeling towards her. Alexander and Edward were the best men I knew, and if she couldn’t see that, I wanted nothing to do with her. Now, I was about to do the unthinkable. I swallowed as I considered the olive branch I was planning to offer to her tonight.

Mary’s lips pursed, her expression sour, as she swept a scathing look over me. Her eyes landed on the small bump I had chosen not to hide. That was one secret out of the way. I could only hope she wouldn’t go blabbing it to the press herself. Next to her, Henry’s face was serenely unaware of the tension. My limited experience with him had been friendly. He had been the spare to the heir. Maybe that was why he had always been kinder to me. Like Edward, he’d known that the moment his brother had his first child, his chances of landing on the throne were limited. He also didn’t seem to mind passing on that responsibility.

“I see you’re pregnant again.” Mary didn’t bother to hide her disapproval.

I’d been expecting it, but it still stung. Part of me hated my hormones for making me more susceptible to her barbs. I shrugged, willing the comment to roll off my shoulders.

Edward, however, had gone rigid. “I think what you meant to say was congratulations.”

“And where is your husband?” Mary asked him, turning on him. “Or are you hiding him away, too?”

“I’m not hiding anything,” Edward said coolly. He went to the seat next to the head of the table and pulled out my chair. It was a cue we’d discussed. It was time to take our places and remind her who was in charge of this palace now.

“Not hiding anything?” She guffawed, adding a dramatic huff for good measure. “I don’t remember a wedding invitation. In fact, I had to read about it in The Daily Mail.”

“Mother,” Henry said in a quiet voice. Was this why he had come? Was it his job to keep her in check? And who had put him in charge of that position? Or had the duty fallen to him with the death of his brother? I couldn’t imagine that Mary suddenly cared what she said or who she hurt. She never had before.

I took the seat just as Alexander arrived, buttoning his jacket and straightening his tie. He had obviously come straight from a meeting and he wore the weary look he usually had after a long discussion with Parliament. His eyes, which had been slightly glazed over as he entered the room, as though his mind were on something else, zeroed in on his grandmother and uncle and flamed to life. Instantly, his whole demeanor changed. This wasn’t a simple family dinner with his wife and brother. I saw the recognition of that dawn on his face. Anger flashed so quickly over his gorgeous features that I was certain I was the only one who caught it. I suspected I’d be seeing more of that look later.

“We have guests?” he asked through gritted teeth. His eyes looked down to where I sat next to the seat he was supposed to take. I had expected to see anger or rebuke reflected there, instead, I found only frustration. A pang of regret bounced in my chest. This was worse than him being mad at me.

“Yes, I thought you knew,” I lied, hating myself a little for it. Later, I would admit the truth to him privately. I had no intention of being dishonest with my husband, but there was no way I was going to show all of my cards now. It was better to let them think he had forgotten after a harried day of meetings than that I had purposefully manipulated the situation.

“We were just discussing your wife’s condition,” Mary said, as she took a step toward the seat across from mine. She waited, but Alexander didn’t move. After a tense minute, Henry stepped forward and pulled the chair out for her. Alexander was still standing, still taking his measure of the situation.

“Her condition?” he asked.

That I hadn’t planned on. Immediately, my hand went to my stomach, rubbing it absentmindedly as I tried to think of a way to smooth this over. He hadn’t seen what I was wearing. He also hadn’t been told that Edward was now in on the news. We hadn’t discussed whether or not anyone outside of the security team should know that I was expecting yet. I’d wanted to keep this a secret. Now I’d spilled the news without consulting him.

“I’m running out of things to wear,” I said in a soft voice. It was the truth. It would have been hard to find anything appropriate that didn’t scream maternity dress.

“Is she trying to hide it? I don’t see how that’s possible.” Mary picked up her water glass and took a sip. She hadn’t said it to be supportive. In fact, it was the opposite. But it did the trick.