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To my surprise, it’s Kit who replies. “There is,” he says. “Though it’s almost entirely fictionalized.”

I tilt my head. “I know the book’s already published, but do you think Henrietta Smythe might be interested in what really happened? For future editions, I mean.”

“The royal family doesn’t speak directly to our unofficial biographers,” says Alexander, his voice stronger now. “It offers too much legitimacy to their occasionally extraordinary claims. But I’m certain we could arrange for a proxy to contact her, if you’re serious. We’ve certainly done such things in the past.”

Constance’s flinty expression doesn’t budge, but I can see the wrath in her eyes—the acknowledgment of my very real threat. And I know she knows I’m deadly serious.

“I’ll think about it,” I say at last. “Decide after the holidays.”

“Of course,” says Alexander. “We’ll discuss it in the new year. Mother, have you eaten? Dinner won’t be served until eight o’clock, and—”

Constance whirls around, and without another word, she marches out of the dining room in a cloud of cashmere and contempt, her adorable spaniel trotting once again at her heels.

No one says anything for several long seconds, until the silence grows so heavy and awkward that it becomes unbearable. Both my father and Nicholas appear vaguely amused, while Helene finally takes that sip of her wine. But my mother looks…lost, maybe. Guarded, like Constance’s blow landed, and she knows she has to protect herself from any further attacks. The rage returns, bubbling up inside me like lava, but just as I’m about to blurt out something to break the tension, Kit takes a single step toward my mother.

“Ms. Bright,” he says warmly, as if the entire encounter with Constance never happened—as if the only strange part about this is the fact that he and my mother have never been introduced. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

“You must be Kit,” she says, her wariness slowly fading. “You’re even more handsome in person.”

“And I can see where Evan gets her looks,” says Kit, his cheeks pink. But as they slip into a comfortable exchange of pleasantries, Alexander takes my elbow, guiding me toward the buffet.

“Where is your sister?” he says as he starts to fill a plate, and I shrug.

“She ran off as soon as we got here.”

“Right,” he says with a hint of disappointment. “I suppose we’ll do introductions later, then. Did you two pass by the, er…incident at the gate?”

“You mean the weirdly quiet protesters looking for any excuse to pull out a guillotine?” I say. “Yeah, we saw them. Why is my mom here?”

I lower my voice so it carries only between the two of us, and I can tell from the way Alexander’s expression grows pinched that he understands exactly why I’m asking.

“Because she wants to be here,” he says softly while he helps himself to the potatoes. “Because we would both like to spend Christmas together, as a family.”

“They’re going to eat her alive,” I whisper. “That thing with Constance and the bathtub—”

“It will not happen again,” says Alexander, moving on to the roasted chicken. “I promise. You’ve nothing to worry about, Evie—just relax and try to enjoy yourself, all right? You deserveit.”

What I deserve is to know my mother is safe, both mentally and physically, but before I can spit that out between gritted teeth, Alexander heads back to her and hands her the plate. “Your favorites, if I recall. Let’s sit, shall we?”

I remain beside the buffet as I watch them choose seats much too close to Helene and Nicholas, my jaw clenched so tightly that it aches. Kit joins me, wrapping his arm around my shoulders, and I lean into him.

“Would you like to go to the shops later?” he murmurs. “I need to buy your mum a gift.”

This is obviously an attempt to distract me, but even though the idea of leaving my mother here makes me feel vaguely nauseated, he has a point. I have no idea if she received the present Isent to Virginia, and I can’t stand the thought of her not having anything to open under the tree on Christmas. “Depends on whether Constance is on her way back to Balmoral yet,” Imutter.

“Unlikely,” he admits. “But your mum will be all right for a little while, Ev. Alexander has everything under control, and regardless of their verbal barbs, Constance and my aunt aren’t ones to get their hands dirty.”

“Maybe not,” I say darkly. “But I am.”

Kit presses a quick kiss to my temple, and despite my stewing, despite the omnipresent tension in the room and his grim mood, I swear I see him smirk.

CHAPTER SEVEN

‘MAD MISTRESS’ SPOTTED AT SANDRINGHAM FOR CHRISTMAS

Laura Bright, mother of the King’s illegitimate daughter, Evangeline, has joined the royal family for Christmas in Norfolk.

A woman identified as the infamous American mistress was photographed early this afternoon in a Range Rover driven by the King as they entered the grounds of Sandringham Estate. Though Buckingham Palace has refused to comment, ananonymous source close to the royals confirms that Bright, 43, made the trip from the United States specifically to spend the holiday with her daughter.