hem of my skirt, an unsettling premonition forming in the pit of my stomach that this constitutional referendum is about to wreak havoc on our lives. That the leak of our engagement isn’t helping matters.
“Your father doesn’t like the idea of us getting married.”
“He was more surprised by it than anything. He didn’t think we were as serious as we are.” He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “He’d have no reason to, I suppose. I don’t have the kind of relationship with him where I share what’s going on in my personal life. Most of his updates about me come from his private secretary. It was my grandmother and the head of household, Dalton Peel, who were quite opposed. Particularly the head of household.”
“Head of household?” I blink, confused. “Like the main butler or something?”
“No. The head of household is similar to what you know as your president’s chief of staff. He’s essentially in charge of the entire royal household, which basically means he’s in charge of the entire monarchy. He’s the only person on the Executive Council who isn’t elected, but appointed by the king. And he’s also my father’s most senior member of his Privy Council.”
“And what’s the Privy Council?”
“An advisory committee to the monarch. Whereas the Executive Council offers the king advice on matters of state, the Privy Council advises the monarch on matters of, well, the monarchy. Our history. Our traditions. Our public image.”
I take a minute to process this new information, my brain on the verge of exploding. Now I really wish I’d learned more about this concept of government. At least that would have given me a foot up, so to speak.
“So your grandmother and your father’s most trusted advisor are against us.” I glance at Anderson. “Isn’t it the king’s decision to grant us permission to marry?”
“Technically, yes. But in all matters relating to the monarchy, the king listens to his Privy Council’s advice, as well as the advice of certain members of the royal household.”
“Like your grandmother?”
“Yes, although she’s more accurately a member of the royal family.”
I dig my fingers through my hair, pulling at it. “You do realize how confusing this all sounds, right? Especially to an outsider?”
“I’m sorry I didn’t bring you up to speed on this ahead of time. I still occasionally get confused about how everything works, so I can only imagine how you must feel. Simplest explanation… The royal family includes the people in the line of succession, as well as certain people who were formerly married to a deceased monarch, like my grandmother. The royal household includes everyone who works behind the scenes to make the royal family look good — Privy Council members, private secretaries, publicists. In reality, they’re the ones who keep the monarchy alive and going. The ones who make a lot of the decisions. Imagine this life is a chess board… The members of the royal family are the game pieces, the royal household are the chess masters.”
“I see…” I stare forward, the last bit of daylight slowly disappearing beyond the horizon. “And these so-called chess masters would prefer if I weren’t part of the game.”
“I’m not going to keep anything from you, Nora.”
His firm tone forces my gaze back to his. I survey his appearance…muscles taut, jaw clenched.
“You may not like some of the things I’m about to tell you. I didn’t like hearing them earlier. But there are quite a few people in the royal household and royal family who do not support us as a couple. Who think I should marry someone more ‘appropriate’. Someone who’s been around this life, who grew up in it.”
“So this is your way of letting me down easy,” I reply in a shaky voice, running my clammy hands along my dress. “Tell me your father won’t give his approval.”
“Actually, no.”
I tilt my head. “No?”
“Getting the monarch’s permission is more of a formality. Not to mention, it would look bad if he were to publicly denounce our engagement after it made headlines.”
“If he approves, then—”
“I told them about the pregnancy.”
“Oh.” I shrink into myself, hugging my arms around my body as a sudden chill overtakes me.
He blows out a frustrated laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “It wasn’t my intention. But Dalton and my grandmother kept going on and on about Caroline being able to conceive a child and not knowing whether you were able to—”
“What a second.” I furrow my brow, recalling a few reporters shouting that name earlier. “Who’s