“I beg to differ, Your Highness.”
And a look comes over his face, a slight bit of shock at being challenged mixed with a shadow of respect. Because while Henry has multiple moral deficiencies, a failure to view himself and his own shortcomings isn’t one of them.
He’s a royal fuck-up, but he owns it.
“I’m taking her to The Horny Goat, Agent St. James, not charging into battle. You and the rest of security are welcome to accompany us. We’ll have a few drinks—or a few dozen—sing some songs and all will be well.”
“Oh, that sounds like so much fun!” Ellie claps her hands. And she turns those heartbreaking eyes on me. “Can we go? Please?”
A simmering amusement rises in Prince Henry’s expression as they wait for my answer. Because he’s also a shit-stirrer. It’s what he does—what he lives for: stirring up all the shit, then sitting back and watching everyone slip in it.
“Come on, Logan,” Ellie whines pleadingly.
Henry loops his arm around her shoulders with a taunting grin. “Yeah, come on, Logan.”
Bastard.
Two hours later, Ellie Hammond, the younger sister of the new Duchess of Fairstone, and the future King of Wessco are on a karaoke stage at The Horny Goat pub. Together. Bouncing around and singing “I Wanna Be Sedated” by the Ramones.
There goes the fucking kingdom.
Thank Christ that Evan Macalister, The Goat’s owner, managed to keep the press out. After the song ends, the pair return to the bar, hailed by the shouts of Henry’s lads. A tall, curvy brunette has been attached to the Prince’s hip all night—she latches to his side, whispering in his ear.
I’ve kept a tally of the alcohol Ellie’s consumed—three martinis at the dinner reception and four whiskeys neat at the pub. She downs a fifth one like water.
“You’re a Viking!” Henry encourages her.
“Vikings!!!” Ellie shouts.
When the Prince calls the bartender for another, I push my way through the crowd to Henry.
“She’s had enough,” I tell him quietly.
“She’s fine.” He waves his hand at the air.
“She’s just a girl,” I insist.
Ellie takes exception, poking my arm with her finger and slurring. “Hey! I resent that. I’m a matter adult. Mattur. Ma-ture.” She tilts her head, gasping. “Oh my God, I just realized that except for one letter, mature and manure are the same word! That’s so weird.”
I turn back to Prince Henry. “Like I said . . . more than enough.”
He leans across the bar towards Ellie, holding up two fingers. “Ellie, how many fingers do you see?”
Ellie squints and strains, until finally she grabs Henry’s hand and holds it still.
“Four.”
“Brilliant answer!”
“Was I right?” Ellie asks hopefully.
“No—if you’d gotten it right, I’d be really concerned.” Then he bangs the bar with his palm. “Another round!”
That’s when Ellie slides clear off her stool. I catch her before she hits the floor, but just barely. And then I glare at Henry.
“Mmm . . . perhaps we have reached our quota for the evening.” He puts his hand on Ellie’s arm, lifting his chin a little as he says, “It’s always important to be able to actually walk out of the pub on our own two feet. Dignity and all that.”
Ellie’s head lolls on her neck until she rests it on my shoulder, her puffs of breath brushing my throat. “M’kay.”
The palace is quiet as the threesome—Henry, Ellie and Henry’s female companion—stumble down the halls to Ellie’s suite, giggling and whispering as they go. I get the door for them and they collapse onto the chairs and sofa in the sitting room.
Henry watches Ellie and his eyes seem clearer than when they were in the pub. “Who’s up for cards?” he asks, checking his pockets. “I’ve got a deck around here somewhere.”
His brunette pouts unhappily. “I’m getting tired, Henry.”
And it sounds like his shagging for the night is in jeopardy.
He gestures towards Ellie. “I can’t just leave her. She could Janis Joplin in her sleep—Nicholas would literally kill me, and I’d have no choice but to let him.”
Ellie shakes her head mournfully. “Janis Joplin—what a voice.”
And she starts to cry.
“It’s just so sad.”
She covers her face with her hands, sobbing now. “She loved Bobby McGee so much!”
Fucking hell.
When I’m done with Henry, there won’t be much left for Nicholas to kill.
To keep myself from committing a capital offense, I volunteer, “I’ll watch her, Your Highness. I’m on shift all night, and Prince Nicholas wanted to make sure I looked after Ellie.”