Page 32 of The Unlikely Heir

“Although I think you missed something important. If you ask the right-wing columnists in this country, I’m the factor that’s leading to the downfall of civilization,” I say ruefully.

Callum laughs, and it’s a surprised one, like he didn’t expect me to amuse him.

“Give me a few more weeks, and I’m sure I’ll manage to screw up so much I’ll share that title with you,” he says.

It’s my turn to chuckle.

Callum’s eyes drift back to the portrait.

“Did you know all these portraits are men who were part of the alliance that defeated Napoleon at Waterloo? Princes, kings, emperors, and noblemen of Prussia, Austria, Russia, England, Belgium, the Netherlands. Even the Pope.”

“It was an incredible alliance,” I say.

“Waterloo was quite a watershed moment. I mean, there must be a reason ABBA sang about it, right?” Callum gives me a cheeky grin, and my heart rate speeds up.

Then he looks back up at the portraits.

“I can’t help wondering what they would think if they saw the world today.”

I draw in a breath. How many times have I had the same thought?

“I think the same thing when I walk past the prime minister portraits at Downing Street,” I say softly.

“We’ve made so much progress in some areas and so little in others,” Callum says.

I don’t have a chance to scramble for a reply before Callum looks back up at the portraits, a frown settling on his handsome face.

“So many of these are monarchs, who believed they had a divine right to rule ordained by God. No wonder they aligned against Napoleon, the upstart third son descended from a minor noble family.”

“Do you believe royalty is ordained by God?” I ask curiously. I can’t remember from the background research Rosalia did on Callum whether he was raised religious or not. Of course, when he becomes king, he will become the head of the Church of England by default.

Callum gives a rueful smile. “If royalty is ordained by God, recent events show that God’s definitely got a warped sense of humor.”

I can’t help laughing. Callum joins in, and something about the way our laughter blends has people turning from the conversations around us to track the noise.

“I don’t know how to get my head around the randomness of the whole thing,” Callum says after his laughter trails off. “That I, just by the mere coincidence of my birth, am suddenly held up as worthy of all this attention.”

“I guess believing a higher power is in control makes the concept easier to cope with, right?”

“I guess. Maybe that’s why all the past royals seized on that idea.”

Callum tilts his head back to take in some of the higher paintings. “Do you think this is really just a giant competition of ‘Who Wore it Best’ military uniform edition?” he asks.

I find myself barking out another unexpected laugh, and Callum smiles at me.

This is why I find Callum so disconcerting. Most people I can categorize easily, mentally slotting them into the correct box. I’m still not quite sure how to classify Callum Prescott. How he can veer from heavy historical reflection to these moments of lightness. I get lots of heavy discussions in my life. I don’t get much lightness. The mix is…intoxicating.

Just as my laugh trails off, Callum’s phone beeps.

He rummages in his jacket pocket to retrieve it.

Whatever he sees in the message causes his laughter to fade instantly. He stares down at the message, his face going pale.

I frown. “Are you okay?”

Callum lets out a shuddering breath, stashing his phone back in his pocket. “Just another childhood friend betraying my trust and blabbing my secrets all over the world’s media. You know, what’s starting to turn into a normal day for me.”

He pinches between his eyebrows, but not before I see the tears shimmering in his eyes.