“Kind of boring.” Mina hates sitting still for longer than two minutes—but she’s fine with sitting and typing for hours on end. “Bring a book.”
“Ha.” Both Daniel and the duke would give me the evil eye if I pulled out a copy of War and Peace during a royal function. “New Arcadia loves their ceremonies. Get this, once Benedict is Crown Prince, he’ll probably also be elected President. It’s a ceremonial role.”
“Oh, like Iceland. Iceland has a set up like that. Look it up.”
“I will.” I take a moment to pause the movie before the scene with the fireworks kiss. I love a good fireworks kiss. “You know, it’s kinda weird Benedict hasn’t been officially crowned prince before now. He’s heir presumptive.”
“Is he now?” Mina’s back to banging on her keyboard. Sometimes I think she plays video games while we talk. “Well, la dee da.”
“Benedict already does a lot of what a President would do. Ribbon cutting, flag raising, that sort of thing.”
“Well, today his flag was raised, all right. Or should I say, flagpole.”
“Mina!”
She snickers. “Lucky you.”
“For the last time: I’m not sleeping with him.”
“Your loss. I’d never pass up a chance to get some good dick. Bene dick, get it?”
“Goodbye, Mina.” I close my laptop. “Is it even possible?” I wonder aloud to Elvis. He shakes his feathers. “Me and the duke. The duke and me. I. Whatever.”
Elvis waits patiently for me to figure out my grammar.
“It’s stupid.” I bite my lip. I’ve never told anyone the full story.
What the hell, I’m talking to a parrot.
“I once knew a girl who dallied with a rich boy. They fooled around. Always in secret. And then she missed her period.” Elvis cocks his grey head to the side like he’s listening. “I wish I could tell you the story had a happy ending.” I smile sadly. “But real life isn’t a fairytale.”
I need to remember that.
Chapter 7
Frankie
Our first press conference as a couple is held outside, in a park near the queen’s palace. Daniel’s set us up at a long table in front of rows and rows of flowers. A few hundred feet to the right is a famous fountain crowned with a giant statue of a pretzel. I always wondered about the pretzel. Thanks to Lady Ursaline, I now know why New Arcadia has so many pretzel statues.
Benedict takes point, thanking the press for coming. I sit up straight and channel Grace Kelly as he outlines the vigors of his career and state responsibilities, how he’s wished for a family but been too busy for social concerns, etc., etc. The speech is all very pretty and a bit self-deprecating, but Benedict pulls it off with gravitas.
“And so I’m pleased to announce my engagement to Francis Beaumonde, of the Grant County Beaumondes.”
My smile turns a bit brittle. No way this story isn’t getting out into the world, and back to my hometown. The Grant County Beaumondes, indeed. I can’t imagine what my Grandmère will think of all this. Not that I’ll ever know.
“Please treat her with respect, and give her the Arcadian welcome she deserves.”
I rise and come to Benedict’s side. He puts his arm around me. Cameras flash, and I smile into them as gracefully as I can.
“Your Grace! Your Grace!” Reporters raise their hands.
Daniel rushes to take Benedict’s place at the microphone. “No questions at this time. His Grace is a very busy man…”
“Well done,” Benedict whispers in my ear, steering me away. Bodyguards fall into step, keeping the press at bay.
“What now?” There’s an intensity to his voice that makes me think all is not so calm under the surface.
“Act like you’re in love,” he orders. “At this very moment, the press is researching your name. They’re going to find out you’re a commoner. Not only that, you’re American.”
I tilt my head at him and laugh softly. “Oh Benny. You say the sweetest things.”
“Just telling the truth. And don’t call me Benny.”
I narrow my eyes at him before I remember I’m supposed to look like I’m in love with the twit.
“Come,” he says, glancing over his shoulder and tugging me down a garden path.
“Are we in a hurry?”
“Yes.” He makes no more effort to explain. I search for a more neutral topic before I explode.
“Oh, look at that,” I say as we pass an outdoor stage. “It’s perfect for a concert. Or a play. You could even get a projector and host old movies after dark, whenever it’s warm.”
Benedict sniffs. There are a few shouts behind us, too distant for me to hear what they’re saying. Our guards have fallen away.
“Surely there’s enough money in the trillion dollar budget,” I pant. Benedict’s strides are so long, I have to trot to keep up.
“The royal fund is at a trillion dollars, not our budget.” We round a hedge and exit the garden.
I’m jogging now. “Still, it would be a nice public program.”
“Those sorts of pet projects aren’t my jurisdiction. Come along.” Benedict makes a beeline towards our waiting limo.
“Jerkhole,” I mutter. But when we’re safely ensconced in our ride, I notice his eyes are a bit wild.
“To the embassy,” he orders the driver. As we pull away from the curb, he whips out a handkerchief and wipes his brow.
“Are you all right?” I ask. I’ve never seen him sweat. Up until now, I didn’t think dukes were capable of basic bodily functions.
“Fine.” He spares me a short glance. “I hate press conferences.”
“I guess you’ll have to do a lot of them, when you’re crowned prince.”
“Unfortunately.”
The limo turns a corner, and I see our guards. They’re holding back a mass of reporters.
“Filthy fucking vultures,” Benedict mutters. “Forgive me.”
“It’s fine. You sure you’re all right? We could skip our next event, just go home.”
“And risk Daniel’s wrath?” He wipes his forehead one more time before stuffing the white square of fabric back into his pocket. “No hiding at home, Miss Beaumonde. That’s not a luxury I have.”
And the arrogant duke is back, before I even had a chance to miss him. “You know, if you get nervous, you could use that old actor trick. Imagine everyone in their underwear. Or naked.”
“I doubt that will help. And I don’t have that much imagination, thank god. Of course…” He slides closer as the car glides up to our next stop. My chest is heaving from our rush, but he looks as perfect as ever.
He puts his hand on the door handle then leans in the opposite direction—towards me. “Of course, if I thought of you, I wouldn’t have to imagine.” And he gives me a look that sets off fireworks in the pit of my belly before turning to exit the car.
And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how you distract a duke.
Frankie
“Well done!” Daniel greets us just inside the door and waves us into a private office. “It went splendidly. And now for your first party. Are you ready, Frankie?”