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“Maisie,” I snap, and for once, she actually shuts up. “Why are we here? What’s—”

A loud and vivacious laugh reverberates from the nearby drawing room, cutting me off. It’s not my mother’s, and it definitely doesn’t sound like anything that could ever come out of Helene’s or Constance’s mouth. But while I don’t recognize it, Kit stiffens.

“Is that…?” He trails off, and Maisie nods. “And did she bring…?”

“Of course she bloody did.”

Kit grits his teeth so hard that a muscle in his jaw jumps. “And Alexander’s fine with it?”

“What do you think?” says Maisie witheringly, and Kit’s scowl deepens. “But she has no idea, and Nicholas isn’t saying a bloody word—”

“Are you two going to speak in code all night, or do I eventually get to find out what’s going on?” I hiss, and both Maisie and Kit focus on me with very real fear in their eyes.

“Our aunt is here,” says Maisie at last. “Former aunt. But she never seems to have received that particular message, because she shows up every bloody year, and—”

“Who?” I press. “Who are you talking about?”

More raucous laughter echoes from the drawing room, and as Maisie and Kit exchange yet another uncertain glance, I huff. Releasing Kit’s hand, I creep toward the doorway until I can peek inside.

“…and so I tell the sheik that of course it doesn’t matter, it’s only a Kokoschka, but he ought to be prepared to lose the Renoir auction, because my astrologer’s assured me that Jupiter will be moving into my second house the day before—the day before!—and there’s simply no way I can lose.”

A blond woman lounges on a velvet sofa with her back to me, wineglass in hand as she gestures wildly. Nicholas perches beside her, though he leans into the armrest, putting as much space between them as possible. Constance sits unsmilingly in a chair nearby, and to my surprise, Alexander and Helene stand together by the fireplace, his expression stony and hers deeply troubled. It’s the first time I’ve seen them go near each other voluntarily in months.

I’m about to pull back and ask who the blond is when she turns enough for me to see her profile, and even though I’ve never met her, I recognize her instantly. She’s beautiful, in an overdone way that makes it clear she’s fighting her real age. And while I never paid much attention to her growing up, it was impossible to miss the onslaught of skin-care ads, tell-alls, and talk show appearances that she still manages to book to this day.

Venetia, Duchess of York.

As everything Kit and Maisie said clicks like pieces of a puzzle I never should’ve solved, I notice that Alexander and Helene aren’t watching Venetia. They’re looking behind her, to the corner of the room I can’t easily see.

Dread fills the pit of my stomach, and I inch forward to reveal the handsome blond boy leaning against the piano, perfectly at home in a room so full of tension that it seems to seep out of the walls. And as my blood turns to ice and my ears fill with static, his gaze shifts, and he looks directly at me.

Ben.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Has Prince Benedict of York finally returned to the UK?

Though Benedict has made a name for himself as a fixture in the London nightlife scene over the past year, he’s been conspicuously missing in action since July. After weeks of questions from his loyal fans, Buckingham Palace finally released a statement in August announcing that the nineteen-year-old had decided to spend the rest of his summer—and the following autumn, putting off his acceptance to the University of St Andrews for another term—at an undisclosed wildlife sanctuary in Kenya. Though the prince has always been known for his love of animals, the trip was reportedly unannounced due to security concerns after the intense media scrutiny focused on the royal family over the summer.

But the third in line to the throne was spotted at Heathrow this morning with his mother, Venetia, Duchess of York, as the pair left the airport’s private Windsor Suite. Are the prince and his mother expected at the reportedly ultra-low-key royal family gathering at Sandringham this year? The ex-wife of the Duke of York has never missed a Christmas, even in the midst of their contentious divorce, and it’s no surprise that His Royal Highness has decided to make the arduous journey back for the holidays, given his close relationship with Princess Mary. After months apart, we’ve no doubt that their reunion will be full of good cheer.

—The Regal Record, 23 December 2023

I SPIN AROUND AND PRESS my back to the wall, my heart racing as a picture frame digs into my side.

Ben is here.

Ben knows I’m here.

And if he doesn’t know about my mom yet, he will soon enough.

Maisie grabs my wrist and yanks me farther into the corridor, clear of the inhospitable drawing room and Ben’s unnerving stare. “Did you see him?” she whispers.

I nod and do my best to swallow the panic rising in me like bile. “Why is he here? How is he here? I thought—”

“Ah, there you all are. I was beginning to wonder.”

The three of us turn toward the drawing room together, and my insides churn for real this time, threatening to expel the ice cream I can still taste.