Page 135 of The Unlikely Heir

“If he’s not prepared to quit politics, you will have to choose between being heir to the throne and your relationship with him. Because it’s not feasible to have the heir to the throne in a relationship with the prime minister. Both of you would have conflicts of interest that would prevent you from doing your jobs properly. It could send the country into a constitutional crisis.”

Gran’s statement silences the room.

“I know,” I say quietly.

“If Prince Callum steps down now, it’ll become a bigger scandal. They’ll dig and dig to find out why,” Clive says. “He can’t do that. He needs to end it.”

“History is littered with members of the royal family being forced to make romantic decisions against their will. I don’t think it has ever ended well,” Gran replies.

Raymond’s been pacing as the conversation swirls around us. He turns to me, his mouth open like he’s about to berate me again when his phone beeps.

He looks at the message on his phone and blanches.

“It looks like this whole debate might be arbitrary, anyway,” he says.

“Why?”

Even though Clive asked the question, Raymond fixes his gaze on me as he answers. “Because Prince Callum’s boyfriend has just called for a referendum on the monarchy.”

ChapterThirty-Six

Callum

Raymond’s words hit me like a punch to the gut.

“He’s called for a referendum?” I ask, just in case I’ve misheard.

“Yes, he’s called for a referendum.” The glare Raymond shoots me could put Medusa out of a job.

I glance at my grandmother.

Her expression is stoic, a portrait of resilience, but her chin is trembling.

This is the worst-case scenario. This is the iceberg she’s been tirelessly steering us away from.

She has spent the last forty years of her life serving the people of Britain.

And my boyfriend has just suggested that all of that should come to an end.

“They tried to be a republic for eleven years,” I say through numb lips. “There was the Commonwealth of England from 1649 to 1660. It fell apart, and they welcomed the restoration of the monarchy when King Charles II returned from exile.”

“I don’t think an American giving the British public a history lesson is what we need right now,” Raymond snaps. His scowl deepens as he stares at me. “Is Oliver Hartwell going to leak details about your relationship with him to the press?”

I blink. “What? Of course not.”

“I think you have to consider whether his whole relationship with you was part of his desire to further his political ambitions.”

“He would never do that,” I say, but the words feel hollow, swallowed by the dread pooling in my gut as I look around the room, realizing that the polished oak table, the intricate friezes, the soft glow of the antique lamps—everything I’ve taken for granted—could suddenly disappear.

How can I insist I know what Oliver will do? I never thought he’d call a referendum either, especially without talking to me.

I can’t believe he’s done it.

The feeling of betrayal carves out a place deep and dark inside of me.

“If the monarchy’s abolished, he becomes the president. Are you sure your boyfriend doesn’t have presidential aspirations? That part of his motives for doing this isn’t to become president?” Raymond asks.

At Raymond’s harsh words, all my insecurities come roaring back.