Page 106 of The Royal Art of Revenge

“Harriet’s official residence from this day forwards will be the Royal Palace,” my mother says, barely looking at Jasmine. “For their private lodgings, I am gifting them Markham Hall.”

I look at her.

That’s her favourite place in the world.

“Mother—”

“It is my hope that after a torrid time being ripped away from those who love her at such a young age, Harriet may find peace at Markham Hall. And, of course, within the walls of the palace.” She pauses, her gaze flitting between William and Rosalyn. “She will return to the Sinclair household when she is ready to collect her belongings—accompanied by some staff, of course. Needless to say, I expect her things to remain intact and untouched until she comes to collect them.”

William’s jaw clenches. “What are you insinuating, Your Majesty?”

“Do you need me to spell it out for you?” she replies dryly. When he doesn’t reply, she continues, “I thought not. Now, normally in a situation like this, I would be looking to discuss some form of compensation with you. Although one could argue that the official agreement between the Royal House and the Sinclair Family has been upheld given that the eldest Sinclair daughter is marrying the crown prince, it has come at a cost to your youngest daughter, which I fully acknowledge. As Finley said, he bears responsibility for that, and thus, so do I.”

Rosalyn’s eyes brighten at that. “Compensation? Well, yes. Jasmine is very upset, as you can see. She barely slept all night for crying, and the damage to her public image is quite considerable.”

“Of course, I understand entirely,” my mother says, sitting upright. She smiles. “It is regrettable that she’s a topic of conversation right now. Hopefully, as the rollout of the engagement fills the newspaper columns, there will be less talk about her and much more about the upcoming royal wedding.”

I eye her. What is she up to, referencing compensation? There’s nothing to compensate them for.

“Then what are you considering, Your Majesty?” Rosalyn continues. “William and I would be amenable to a discussion regarding a suitor for Jasmine, if you would be so kind.”

Wow.

“Oh, I’m not considering a thing.” My mother’s smile turns cold. “You must have missed the part where I said ‘normally.’”

The chill that runs through the air licks at my skin, icy and venomous, enough to stop even the hardiest of cold weather animals in their tracks.

“You see, any goodwill I may have had for your situation was exhausted the moment I learnt of Harriet’s real name. You’ve lied to me for two years. You’ve led me to believe that Harriet was still missing, if not dead, when the truth was living under your roof the entire time.” She clasps her hands in her lap and focuses on William. “You hid one daughter to further the ambitions of another with little thought or care for the consequences. The only ‘compensation’ your family shall be receiving from the Royal Family is a promise that we will not make it known how horrifically you’ve treated the poor girl.”

Rosalyn opens her mouth, but William silences her with a raise of his hand.

“I understand, Your Majesty.” He bows his head. “I apologise greatly for my deception. I should have told you that Harriet had returned to us. I handled everything incorrectly, and I will forever regret the way she’s been treated.”

“Again, I am not the one who is in need of an apology from you, William. Nor do I care for it. We’ve known each other long enough that we need not partake in these unnecessary niceties.” She sighs wearily. “There will also be a discussion about ensuring Harriet’s full access to her trust—” She pauses as someone knocks at the door. “Rowan, did I not insist that we are not to be disturbed?”

He slides out of the corner of the room. “You did, Your Majesty. Please allow me to handle this.”

Has he been here the whole time?

Smart.

“Please do,” Mum says. “Now, as I was saying, we will be discuss—”

Rowan rushes over to me and leans over the back of the sofa. “You need to return to your bedroom. Miss Harriet has woken up and is having a panic attack,” he whispers.

“Shit.” I push off the sofa and run to the door, ignoring my mother asking what the hell is going on, because I don’t care.

I care about nothing other than Hattie.

She needs me.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE – FINN

“Your Royal Highness,” one of the maids says hurriedly. “She’s—”

“It’s fine, thank you.” I yank open the door and rush into the room. Harriet is sitting in the middle of the bed with her hands in her hair and her head bowed. Her harsh, ragged breaths fill the room, and a maid is sitting next to her, softly rubbing her back and whispering gentle words.

“Your Royal Highness.” The maid looks up at me. “I—I know Her Majesty said not to disturb you, but we can’t calm her, and we didn’t know what to do.”