Page 18 of American Royalty

He’d met Rhys during their time together at Oxford. Tall, blond, and brawny, his friend looked like he’d be more comfortable on a rugby pitch than in a lecture hall. But as a professor in the Engineering Department, his active, hands-on approach made him very popular with the students.

They sat in the back corner of their favorite pub, the Bell and the Crown. Close to the campus, it was mostly frequented by students, faculty, and staff from the uni. Which was why he preferredit. Other than a few stray glances, the patrons mostly gave him a wide berth. It was one of the few places he didn’t have to keep watch over his shoulder, where he felt slightly normal.

Except today.

Today, everyone was talking about what had happened. And though he studiously avoided meeting anyone’s gaze, he could feel their stares like dozens of tiny lasers.

Since the Palace’s announcement of his appointment as a Counsellor of State, speculation in the media had run rampant: Why had the queen done it? What would his new role be? Was he finally taking his father’s place?

Which always led to a recap of his father’s affair and death.

He wasn’t the only one affected by the queen’s declaration. The press had begun hounding his mother again. Not as intensely as in the years after the accident, but more fervently than in recent memory. Unfortunately, despite the shocking events of the day, it wasn’t the first time he’d had to deal with the invasive crush of the tabloid press in the past few weeks. But it was the first time a reporter had been brazen enough to come onto school grounds.

Rhys collected his pieces. “I wonder what would’ve happened if security hadn’t been there.”

Since Jameson hadn’t been a “working” royal, he wasn’t entitled to around-the-clock protection. When his father was alive, Jameson and his parents had been granted a security detail, which they’d retained for a period of time after his death. However, after the announcement, two discreet guards had shown up at the university. They never bothered or even interacted with him. They’d kept a vigilant distance. Until earlier today.

“He probably would’ve followed me to my office.”

“You’re a big guy. You could’ve taken him.”

“Don’t be daft. The thirty-second video of the takedown has already gone viral. Do you know what would’ve happened if I’d done it? How many trips to the palace would be involved?”

“Being friends with you takes the shine off of being fancy.”

“Don’t I know it.”

Rhys drained the rest of his Guinness. “Some of us are heading over to Jasper’s for poker night. You coming? They’ve been asking about you.”

“Next time.” He appreciated Rhys asking, and he generally got along with Jasper and the others, but he wasn’t in the mood.

“Your Royal Highness.”

A chill shot down Jameson’s spine and he looked up to see Louisa briefly curtsying to him. Though her voice hadn’t been loud, the words went into a sudden breach of sound and seemed to echo throughout the space. The crowd stopped what they were doing and openly gawked.

“Don’t call me that,” he hissed.

“Why?”

“Because that’s not who I am here!”

“Are you sure?” she asked, glancing around at the assembly of curious stares making them the center of attention.

“That’s you and your proclaiming and curtsying.” He turned to the customers and attempted flippancy to diffuse the situation. “Come on. Nothing to see here.”

They kept looking.

Jameson exhaled. Was there no space left for him to just be normal?

“Hello, beautiful lady,” Rhys said, flashing a megawatt smile that still worked as well today as it had back at uni.

“Simmer down. She’s married.”

“Happily?” Rhys asked, the engineer in him approaching from a different angle.

Louisa’s lips quirked. “Quite.”

“Oh.” Rhys shrugged.