Prince Albert(14)

It’s even more reason for me to leave.

The knock on the door startles me out of my thoughts and I jump, immediately feeling guilty for sitting here thinking of Albie the way I’ve been thinking about him. I clear my throat. “Yes?”

I swear to all that is holy, if it’s Albie at the door, I’ll kill him. He seems to have a way of turning up at the most inopportune times, and an uncanny knack for being able to read my thoughts.

And the thoughts I’ve been having about him are certainly not ones I want read.

“Are you going to hide out in here all summer, or what?” Alexandra stands just inside the doorway, her hand on her hip, glaring at me. She’s still dressed in her t-shirt and jeans, and she twirls a piece of jet-black hair, laced with colored strands – pink and lime green – around her fingers as she surveys me.

“I was thinking that might be nice,” I say. “At least until I find my passport.”

“You’re going to leave?” she asks. She sounds simultaneously accusing and disappointed, and I don’t know what to make of her. I’m not sure if she wants to be friends with me, or if she hates me on sight.

I cross the room to sit on the bed. “You can come inside, you know,” I say. “If you want, I mean.”

Walking inside the room, she looks around. “I haven’t been in here in a while,” she says. “I forgot how stuffy these guest residences are. You’re not the stuffy type, the kind of girl that goes for all of this.”

“Thanks,” I say. I think it’s a compliment, although I’m not quite sure about her, especially considering her reaction to my broken engagement earlier. To describe her reaction as gleeful would be an understatement.

She has her back turned to me, looking at one of the paintings on the wall. “All this shit,” she says. “You know this painting is worth like a million dollars. It’s practically a museum in here. You should definitely redo it, if you stay.”

A million dollars. I’m afraid to touch anything.

Alexandra turns around, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, and I notice a lip piercing I didn’t see before. Maybe she takes it out for special events -- like engagement announcements sprung on her new stepsister. “I’m sorry I was a bitch before,” she says, her tone matter-of-fact. “About you not getting married, I mean.”

I shrug. “It’s pretty scandalous, I guess.”

“I’m usually the one disappointing my father,” she says. “It was nice to not be the center of a scandal, for once. That sounds terribly selfish, I’m sure.”

I can understand not wanting to be the center of gossip. “It must be hard being in the spotlight all the time.”

She cocks her head when she looks at me. “It’s about to be your turn, you know,” she says. “Your whole life is going to be torn apart.”

Her words send a pang of anxiety rushing through me. “Did you just come here to make me feel worse?”

Shame flickers in her eyes, and she glances down at the ground. “I didn’t,” she says. “Shit. I mean, sorry. Sometimes I – I’m too blunt.”

Her phone buzzes, and she slides her thumb across the screen, a look of relief crossing her face. “I have to go,” she says, not looking at me as she walks away.

I watch the door close behind her, filled with a sense of dread.

Your whole life is going to be torn apart.





CHAPTER SEVEN

Albie



“It’s not a formal event. It’s only dinner with the family. I can dress myself, Ben, thank you,” I say, not bothering to even try to hide the edge in my voice. A flicker of embarrassment crosses the valet’s face, and I feel badly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t sleep well last night.”

He nods. “I can have Doctor Evanston called, if you like, Your Highness,” he says.

“No,” I say, quickly. Too quickly. “It’s nothing. It’s fine, I mean.” It’s not nothing. I haven’t slept well all week, not since I got back from the States.

“As you wish, Your Highness,” he says, retreating toward the door.

“Ben?” I ask. “Were you able to find Miss Kensington’s misplaced passport?”

“Not yet, Your Highness,” he says. “But, rest assured, I will find it.”

The idea of having Belle Kensington around the palace all summer might be entertaining, but if she really wants to go back to the States, she should.

I wonder if she’ll even be at dinner. It’s casual tonight, according to the agenda – which really means that it’s black tie and not full dinner dress. For me, dinner dress would mean military dress with full regalia. This is the dinner engagement announcement to my cousins and aunts and uncles, a small family gathering before the more public events get underway.