thought. What I do expect to hear is how hard this life is. The expectations. The intrusions. How in so many ways, his life is not even his. A heaviness appears in my chest, as I know part of this story will be what my life will become if we continue to date.
Which scares me.
But something else has been bothering me as well. The topic that Xander had deflected from when I brought it up, but which he promised to share about this evening.
Tonight, Xander will tell me about his relationship with his mother.
Queen Antonia.
I furrow my brow again, as I’ve tried to figure out this puzzle since I met Xander. Like I thought before, almost all her press has been positive until recently, when articles began to surface that said there was tension between her and Clementine or her and Liz. I also recall one that said Clementine and Liz were breaths of fresh air that the monarchy desperately needed, and put a picture of all three women side-by-side, with Clementine and Liz wearing modern, vibrant clothing and Queen Antonia in her monochromatic sheath dress and jacket.
So is the media pitting them against each other in a fictionalised account to sell magazines? Or, like with Xander’s old tabloid exploits, are they rooted in some grain of truth, if not a complete one?
I stop walking as a thought hits me like a lightning strike.
I remember one tabloid article that I did stop and read. It was about how Queen Antonia detested Clementine, claiming she was not fit for the monarchy and would single-handedly destroy the institution with her lack of understanding of the rules and protocol that upheld their world. That she was too ordinary, too lackluster, and Lord, too American.
If that was even quasi-true, if she detested Clementine with her art history degree and passion for preservation and antiques, what on earth would she think of a biscuit artist from Wales whose family owns a chip shop?
She would hate me.
The thought is so frightening, I have to fight myself from dropping the cake and running away on the spot.
“Are you going to come closer, or am I going to have to retrieve you?” Xander’s rich voice calls out to me.
I blink. At the end of the building, I spot Xander. He’s out of the shadows, leaning against the brick corner, his eyes flickering with interest as he watches me stand still.
And as soon as I see that mouth tipping upwards in a smile, the light in his eyes, the way the man is looking at me … running away is not an option.
In fact, there’s only one option.
Forward. With him.
I smile as I head closer. “Sorry, remembered something, and I had to think it through,” I say.
Again, not a lie.
As I come closer, and Dave drops discreetly back, I see Xander’s nose wrinkle. Oh, Lord, he sees the full effect of the stupidity I unleashed on my face.
“My God, Poppy, does it hurt?” he asks, his rich voice reverberating with concern.
I smile wryly. “Well, since it feels like a cross between sandpaper and sunburn, I’d have to say it does.”
He winces. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right. I did it to myself.”
We begin to walk, and I fall into step beside him.
“Why would you say that? It was a reaction to a product. That’s not your fault.”
Eek! I try to fumble for a response.
“Oh, yes, well, you know, I’m the one who put it on, that’s what I mean.”
I feel Xander’s eyes studying my profile. I decide I’m fascinated with studying every brick used to build his cottage as we stroll closer to it.
“Oh, you gave yourself away with that comment. This isn’t a reaction to a product, now is it?”
I stop walking and stare at him. “How do you know?” I ask, amazed he zeroed in on that one stupid, tiny slip of the tongue.
“First of all, never turn to a criminal lifestyle. You’ll be in jail within twenty-four hours of the crime. You have thrown clues all over the place.”
“Oh, now, that’s being dramatic,” I snort.
“I’ll lay them out as we walk.”
I scowl, and he laughs. We resume our walk through the Kensington Palace grounds.
“Fine, I can tell you are enjoying playing Scotland Yard—go ahead and present the evidence.”
He chuckles. My stomach flips in response to that sexy sound.
“Admitting it was your fault was the big one. Nobody says that about an allergic reaction unless you put something on your skin that you knew you had an existing allergy