Page 25 of Royal Trouble

Talk about a loaded question.

Before Everly could redirect the conversation, Lord Barrington, a portly Black man with a salt and pepper beard, leaned over and whispered something in Lady Foxcroft’s ear. She couldn’t hear what was said, but it didn’t take a genius to figure it out.

Heat flooded her cheeks, but Rose didn’t seem to notice as she scanned the group with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes and asked, “What’s the latest news?”

After only an hour, she was fully up to speed on court gossip. The Duke of Pelham was shagging his wife’s secretary (again), the Marquess of Newcastle was in financial straits due to poor investment choices, and the Earl of Somerset was locked in a nasty divorce with his fifth wife, which everyone seemed to agree would be the death of the old man.

Unfortunately, she was no closer to a worthy exclusive than she’d been when she arrived.

Court machinations were exhausting. If she was going to last the afternoon, she needed another drink. And maybe some food. How the hell did these people live like this day in and day out? It wasn’t even her life, and she was exhausted by the drama. This was exactly why she’d closed down her website and left the court and the country behind.

When Lady Foxcroft began speculating about the prospect of Prince William producing legitimate heirs to put distance between Xander—or as she referred to him, the bastard prince—and the throne, righteous indignation coursed through Everly’s veins, reminding her of all the whispered conversations about her own legitimacy growing up. It wasn’t her place to defend Xander, but she couldn’t stand idly by and listen to such trash. Not when he’d proven there was more to him than his sordid reputation.

“The way you speak of Prince Alexander is disgusting. You should all be ashamed of yourselves,” she said, vibrating with anger as she met their unflinching stares. “One would think the lords and ladies of the Valerian court would have more salient topics to discuss.”

Lord Barrington cleared his throat and looked her dead in the eye. “You of all people should understand the importance of bloodlines, Miss Wilson.”

Of all the pompous, high-brow assholery—

“Oh!” Rose said, clasping her wrinkled hands together. “I can’t believe I didn’t see it before. You’re her, aren’t you? The girl who was photographed with His Royal Highness at the Calhoun-Donahue wedding?”

She excused herself, not deigning to answer, and made a beeline for the refreshments table.

The fact that the court was filled with wretched backstabbers wasn’t exactly new information, but that didn’t mean she had to like it.

As she crossed the lawn, the crowd parted to reveal a tall man with tawny hair and an impeccably cut navy suit, holding court, a dozen partygoers hanging on his every word. When he gestured to the raven-haired beauty at his side, the golden coat of arms on his ring finger glinted in the sun, nearly blinding her.

Everly froze.

It had been years since she’d seen the Duke of Lennox, but even if it had been a millennium, she would’ve known him anywhere. He was her father. And she was in no way prepared to face him today.

A fine sheen rose on her brow, and she stumbled back, tripping over her own two feet in her haste to get away unnoticed. Freaking sandals. She whirled around and crashed into a wall of muscle. A pair of strong hands circled her waist, and when she looked up, she found herself staring at Xander’s handsome face, her traitorous heart tripping all over itself.

Until he opened his mouth, anyway.

“I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist the Stanley charm forever.” He flashed a cocky grin. “But I never thought you’d actually throw yourself at me.”

“You’re an ass.”

He shrugged. “At least I’m a sexy ass.”

“And so humble, too.” She ought to tell him to keep his hands to himself—she so didn’t need the temptation of his long, capable fingers on her flesh—but the words wouldn’t come. They were lodged in her throat.

Right behind all the things she wanted to say to her father but couldn’t.

Xander glanced over her shoulder with cool disinterest. His posture remained relaxed, but she didn’t miss the way his eyes clouded over or the hardening of his jaw as he took in the scene with her father. As he put two and two together and realized she’d been running away like a freaking coward.

She ducked her head, pride smarting.

Of all the people at this party, why did it have to be him?

When Xander’s gaze returned to her, his expression softened. “You want to get out of here?”

She nodded.

Was it a bad idea? Yes. Was she going anyway? Also yes.

“Come on,” he said, sliding a hand behind her back and steering her in the opposite direction. “I know just the place.”