Playing the Royal Game

She knew about arranged marriages, except she was rather surprised to hear that that might be a problem for him. He didn’t look like a man who would do anything he didn’t want to, and he was hardly a teenager. ‘How old are you?’ She said it without thinking and then winced at her own rudeness, realising he could guess at her thought process, but he gave a begrudging smile before answering.

‘Thirty-three.’ He even gave a half-laugh, gave her a glimpse of those beautiful white teeth, then he sighed. ‘And yes, completely able to make my own decisions. It is rather more complicated though. It would seem that my party time in London is over.’ He gave a shrug. ‘That is how my family see it. I have, in fact, been working, extremely hard, but it’s time, my parents tell me, to come back, to face duty.’ He drained his glass and refilled it. ‘To marry.’

‘Do you love her?’

‘It’s not a question of love, more that we are suited. Our parents are close—it was decided long ago.’ He tried to explain what he had been thinking about before she had entered the bar. ‘I am happy here in London. There are many things I still wish to do with the business.’

‘And you can’t once you’re married.’

‘Once married I must assume royal duties—full-time. Produce heirs…’ He saw her blink. ‘I’ve offended—’

‘Not at all,’ Allegra said. ‘I’ve just never heard it referred to as that—’producing heirs.’ The term’s usually ‘have children.’”

‘Not when you will one day be king.’

‘Oh.’ She seemed to be saying that an awful lot, but really, she had no idea what else to say. It was not exactly a world she could envision.

‘I am told I cannot put the official engagement off.’

‘Can’t you just end it?’ Allegra asked. ‘Just call it off?’

‘For what reason?’ Alex asked. ‘It would shame her if I said I simply did not want to marry her. She does not deserve that.’

‘Does it worry you?’ How utterly he intrigued her! ‘I mean, if you don’t love her, are you worried about…?’ She wanted him to fill in the word, but of course he did not. ‘Well, I do read the magazines. I might not have known you were a prince, but I do know the name, and if I remember rightly, you do have a bit of a reputation. Does it worry you settling down?’

‘Fidelity?’ He was so direct, so straight to the point, that she could not help but fidget. She scratched her temple and tried to think of a better way of wording it, but settled for a nod instead, to show him that was indeed her question. ‘That won’t be an issue—as long as I am discreet.’ She was far too expressive, because she screwed up her nose.

‘You’re walking into a marriage knowing you are going to be unfaithful….’

‘It’s a duty marriage. Anna has been chosen for she will one day make a most suitable queen. It is not about love,’ he explained, but her lips were pursed. ‘You don’t approve?’

‘No.’ It had been her champagne, he’d chosen to join her—she had every right to be honest, every right to give her opinion if he chose to sit here. ‘I don’t see the point in getting married if that’s how you feel.’ She was speaking from the heart—Allegra actually had very firm views on this. She adored her parents, but their rather unique interpretations of marriage vows had had her crying herself to sleep so many times growing up that, on this, she would not stay silent.

‘Our ways are different. I am not saying that I will…’ He never discussed such things, his family never discussed such things, but there were unspoken rules and his betrothed understood them. ‘I don’t expect you to understand. I am just talking, not asking for a solution.’

He watched as the pout was replaced by a very reluctant smile. ‘Touché,’ she said, and after a brief hesitation she nodded, perhaps ready to listen without judging now.

‘Our family is very much in the spotlight.’

‘Believe me, that part I do understand. I know all about families and spotlights,’ Allegra grumbled. And she told him—well, a little, but far more than she usually told another person. After all, if he was a prince then he had far more to lose from indiscretions than she. It actually wasn’t down to half a bottle of champagne or a handful of nuts and wasabi peas; it was simply the company, sitting in their little alcove, huddled together and putting the world to rights. It was a tiny pause before they headed back out there.

‘My family loves the drama. My sister Izzy was on a talent show…’ He had not a clue what she meant. ‘To find a pop star.’

Alex shook his head; he rarely watched television and if he did it was only to see the news. ‘Why would that impact on you?’

‘It’s not just Izzy. My dad used to play football in the Premiere League,’ she explained. ‘He’s like royalty here—except…’ She hesitated then looked into his eyes, saw his brief nod and knew she could go on. ‘It’s just one scandal after another. Last year there was an unauthorised biography published about him.’ He watched the colour swoosh up her cheeks. ‘It was terrible….’

‘Inaccurate?’

‘Yes,’ she attempted then shook her head. ‘No—it was pretty much all true, but you know how things can be twisted.’

‘Is that why you didn’t want to report your boss?’

He was way too perceptive, Allegra thought.

He was also right.

‘They’ve had a field day with the Jacksons recently.’ She told him about the scandals, about her mother, Julie, and the affair that her father had had with Lucinda, that he was now married to Chantelle, but still friendly with Julie. She talked about Angel, who was Chantelle’s daughter, and Izzy, who belonged to both Bobby and Chantelle. Allegra even had to get out a beer mat at one point and draw a little family tree. ‘The book made it all sound so grubby.’ She looked down at the beer mat, saw that perhaps it was. ‘It really hurt my dad—oh, he said it didn’t, did his usual ‘any publicity is good publicity’ spiel, but I know it upset him. I’m trying to put it right.’

‘How?’

‘I want to write an authorised one—I’ve started it actually. I’ve got loads of memories, hundreds, if not thousands, of pictures.’ He saw the flare of something he recognised in her eyes—that mixture of focus and passion that met him in the mirror each morning, the commitment that meant it was killing him to walk away from his work. ‘I want to set the record straight.’

‘Well, you’ve worked in publishing so you’ve got the right contacts,’ Alex said. ‘Write it.’

She laughed, as if it were that easy. ‘You’ve no idea how much work—’

‘You don’t have a job!’ He smiled but she shook her head; he simply didn’t get it—and why would he? It hurt too much to sit and talk about impossible dreams, so instead she asked about him.

‘What about your family tree? I’m sure it’s a lot less complicated than mine, a lot less scandal.’

‘Actually…’ He stopped then, for the most bizarre moment he had been about to tell her, about to speak about something that was completely forbidden, even within palace walls, especially within the palace walls—the constant rumour that his sister Sophia was possibly the result of an affair with a British architect. He looked to her green eyes staring out from beneath her heavy fringe and thought how nice it would have been to tell her, to admit as she so readily had, that his family might not be completely perfect.

‘It’s pretty straightforward,’ he said instead.

‘Lucky you.’ Allegra sighed. ‘I’m the boring, reliable one, of course. They won’t believe that I’ve lost my job.’ He watched her snap her eyes closed on panic. ‘If I don’t get a job soon I won’t be able to keep up my rent and I’ll end up back at Dad’s and be sucked back into the vortex.’ He did understand that feeling, her eyes told her that he did, for he leant over and his eyes held hers.

‘That is how I feel. That is why I don’t want to return just yet. I know that the moment I do…’

‘I know,’ Allegra said, and she spoke some more, except he was only half listening, his mind elsewhere. He looked to the table where he had sat just last week, with a man on the edge of his dreams who now lay cold in the ground, and he looked to the window and he saw the rain. He did not want to be lying there, cold with the rain and a life half lived, dreams undone. He wanted more for his business, wanted a couple more years before he returned to the fold—but how?

‘Can’t your brother do it?’ She pulled him from his introspection and she saw him frown. ‘If you don’t want to be king…’

‘I never said I did not want to be king,’ Alex corrected. ‘Just that I would like more time.’ He frowned at her. ‘Matteo and I have had different upbringings. Of course, were anything to happen to me, he would step in, but…’ He tried to explain it, for though he never expected her to understand, today he wanted her to. ‘You said earlier, that is how people feel at funerals… that people get upset…’

‘Of course,’ Allegra said. ‘Everyone does.’

‘No.’ He shook his head. ‘When I was seven my grandmother died. The funeral was massive. At the cemetery…’ He did not really know why he was telling her this; he had not thought of this for years, but somehow he had to make her understand. ‘Matteo was upset, my mother hushed him, then my father picked him up—I remember because it was one of the pictures in the newspaper. I started to cry,’ Alex said. ‘Not a lot, but a little. The coffin was going down and I could hear my brother, and… I started to cry and my father gripped my hand and then he gripped it tighter.’ He took a breath. ‘He was not holding my hand in comfort.’

‘I’m not with you?’

‘When we got back to the palace, before the guests arrived, my father took me to the study and removed his belt.’ Alex wasn’t saying it for sympathy; it wasn’t a sob story she was being told. It was facts being delivered. ‘He said he would not stop till I stopped crying.’

‘You were a seven-year-old boy!’ She was the one who was appalled—not Alex.

‘I was a seven-year-old prince who would one day be king,’ Alex explained. ‘He had to teach me difficult lessons. A king does not cry, a king does not show emotion….’

‘You were a child.’