Playing Dirty(139)
“Well, you would say that,” Michael replied. “It’s nice to know that you have the chivalry to protect your little bit on the side, but in the circumstances you are quite misguided. She had knife, and she has the motive.”
“For goodness sake, Michael.” Our mother pinched the bridge of her nose in exasperation. “Stop saying ‘motive’. For the last time: you are not Sherlock Holmes.”
“What motive?” I asked.
“Losing you to Alexandra,” replied Michael. “And don’t bother denying the ‘relationship’ you two have going on.”
“Please don’t use air quotes, Michael,” our mother interjected, still more exasperated. “It makes you look like an imbecile.”
“I’m not denying the relationship,” I said. “I’m proud of it. In fact, I already made you aware of it yesterday, Mother. So even though you’ve gone and tried to guilt me into this engagement with Alexandra by announcing it at dinner, it’s not happening. I don’t understand why you aren’t getting that.”
“Quiet!” she snapped. “We’ve already discussed that unfortunate subject. It’s bad enough that you would use the poor girl as an excuse to get out of marrying a perfectly lovely girl like Alexandra. Now you’ve dragged her down to this extreme. She may end up in prison on account of her misguided infatuation with you and your despicable encouragement of it to suit your own selfish ends.”
“Despicable,” Michael said, nodding sagely.
“Shut up, Michael!” Our mother took a deep breath and paused—possibly in silent prayer to ask the Almighty why in his infinite wisdom he had landed her with two such sons—before continuing. “As I said, because of your behavior, Keira may end up in prison.”
“Will end up in prison,” said Michael.
“May,” my mother corrected. “If we bring the official force in, then word will get out, and it would be nice to go a month without our family splashed across the tabloid front pages.”
“She didn’t do it,” I repeated. “Believe what you want about me. But Keira didn’t do this. She wouldn’t, and I won’t sit here and listen to these disgusting lies being spread about the woman I love!”
“So you’re saying that a member of the Swedish royal family lied?” Michael said, implying with his tone that royalty was incapable of deception, which a quick look at his own family would have told him was not the case.
The Queen shook her head. “I can’t believe that of young Alexandra. Such a sweet girl.”
I narrowed my eyes. “When did you last see her?” I asked. “Before yesterday I mean.”
“Well, not since she was a little girl,” the Queen admitted. “But she was a dear child then. A bit wild, but children grow out of such things.”
“Did I grow out of it?”
My mother raised an eyebrow. “If you have something to say, Andrew, then say it.”
“I think,” I said, trying not to lose my cool again, “it’s possible that Alexandra hasn’t grown up as much as you might hope.”
“She could be very sweet at times.”
“And a proper little tear-away at others,” said Michael. He obviously didn’t like siding with me, but he had grim memories of Princess Alexandra. “She stole my bike when I was eight, and when she returned it the seat was gone.”
“I’m sure that was just an accident.”
“It was very nearly a serious accident,” said Michael, raising his eyebrows significantly.
“She could be a little changeable in her nature,” our mother finally admitted. “But a lot of children can be and they always grow out of it. Michael used to go from being very polite to sullen and rude just like that. And Andrew, you could be quite charming and then all of a sudden you’d be sneaking off to do mischief of some kind.” She paused mid-thought to consider this. “Of course, some children never change. But I’m sure that Alexandra has changed…”
“Yes, she’s changed,” I said. “And by that I mean she’s ten times worse now. I didn’t want to mention this—I really didn’t want to mention this—but at dinner…”
I gave a brief account of the Princess’s wandering hands, and Michael snorted. “I thought you’d like that,” he said.
Our mother ignored him. “So we have established that Princess Alexandra may not be the most reliable witness.”
“But the maid had the knife in her hand!” Michael insisted. “Maybe Alexandra can’t be trusted, but you can’t fault the evidence.”