Page 19 of American Royalty

“And she works for my grandmother.”

“You work for the queen!”

More heads turned in their direction.

Bloody hell! “A little louder please. A couple near the entrance didn’t hear you.”

“Sorry, mate. This will require another round. Can I get you a drink, uh...”

And now Jameson felt like an arsehole who’d lost his manners.

“This is Louisa Collins, the Royal Household’s senior events coordinator. Louisa, this is Professor Rhys Barnes, who I sometimes call my friend.”

“A pleasure,” Rhys said. “Now, about that drink...?”

“No thank you. I’m hoping this won’t take long,” she said, with a pointed look at Jameson.

“Have a seat. I’ll be right back.” Rhys strode off, raising an arm to get the barkeep’s attention. He needn’t have bothered. The man was already pouring them a refill.

“I’m sorry you came all this way, but you’ve wasted your time.”

Louisa perched daintily on the edge of the wooden stool. “Interesting lecture.”

He started in surprise. “You saw it?”

She nodded. “Only the last ten minutes or so.”

He hadn’t known. Heat swept through him, though he didn’t know why he suddenly felt self-conscious. “Thank you. So you also saw what happened afterwards?”

“I did. Good thing the royal protection was there.”

Wouldn’t have been necessary if the queen hadn’t interfered in his life.

“That was over an hour ago. Did you take a tour of the campus?”

“You could say that.” She placed her bag on the table. “I’m curious. Where do you see yourself, in regards to your royal duties? The ones in the cave, looking at the shadows? Or the ones outside, looking at the real world?”

Jameson glanced at Louisa. Truth was, he’d often felt the entire royal family lived inside a grand, opulent cave of their own making. But they weren’t the prisoners watching shadows flickering against the wall. They held the light and took turns striding back and forth in front of it, casting themselves as larger-than-life beings. When his father died, his mother had pushed Jameson out of the cave, allowing him to live and interact with the world as it really was, and he had no interest in going back inside, as the queen was requesting.

But he wasn’t keen on discussing his life, so he simply said, “It’s just a lecture.”

“Right.” It was clear she didn’t believe him, but she was a loyal employee of the Crown and not about to call him on his bullshit. Instead, she changed the topic. “You’ve been ignoring my calls.”

“I’ve been busy.”

Which was true.

Mostly.

But in the month since his visit with the queen, Jameson had had the time and space to think clearly. Buckingham Palace had the best home court advantage; in the presence of his grandmother’s aura and the majesty of the building, he’d believed he had no choice but to comply. But he didn’t want to participate in the celebration and he found it difficult to believe Marina would risk John’s charitable trust over his cooperation. She knew the value his grandfather had placed on it. Turning it over to Julian was akin to dismantling it. She couldn’t do that and simultaneously host a concert to celebrate him and his work.

So he’d evaded Louisa’s overtures, hoping his unresponsiveness would lead to Marina forgetting about his involvement. Or better, deciding to leave him out of it altogether.

It seemed he had misjudged the situation.

“The queen has made her decision,” Louisa said. “This event is going to happen.”

“If that’s what she wants, I’m sure it’ll be a success.”