Royal Mistake: The Complete Series Read online

But when I look in his eyes, he isn’t looking back at me. His gaze is turned downward. His shoulders are hunched and he’s holding himself much differently than he usually does. Gone is the regal, almost rigid stance. Instead, he looks as though he might crumple to the floor if he so much as breathes wrong.

  Seeing him like this takes some of the wind from my angry sails.

  He collapses onto the end of the bed. He almost folds over, his head in his hands. He’s shaking, too, but it doesn’t seem to have anything to do with rage—nothing like what I’m still feeling.

  I blow out a long breath and watch him, hoping he’ll at least tell me what the hell is going on here—why he’s here at all now that he’s made his real choice. But he sits there for so long, almost as though he’s unable to move, that I finally sit down next to him—only close enough that he can feel my presence. Definitely not close enough for him to try anything.

  I glance at the door when I think about him trying something like he had in our earlier shower. I’m halfway expecting Lady Clarissa to come storming in here again. My closed doors didn’t seem to stop her before, so I’m not sure why they would this time.

  Andrew runs his hand through his hair so roughly I’m almost afraid he’s going to pull a large chunk of it out. He rubs the back of his neck—his head is nearly in his lap, he’s bent so far over.

  He finally sits upright and looks over at me, but can’t seem to meet my gaze. His chin is quivering in a way I’ve never seen before and I would swear his eyes are wet.

  His brow furrows and his eyes fall closed—he looks like he is in physical pain. “Victoria.” He opens his eyes, his gaze still on the floor. His voice is ragged—almost hitching in his chest. “I have no right to ask for such a thing, but…but…”

  I swear he’s trying not to sob. Whatever is happening to him, it’s clear he’s suffering. And it’s making my chest ache hearing it in his voice.

  I edge myself closer to him. “You can ask me anything, Andrew.” I’m not sure what possesses me, but I reach out and rub his back.

  He trembles beneath my touch. He turns, pulling my free hand into his, but still not meeting my gaze. “Do you…do you think it would be possible for us to lie together? I…I…” He lets out a shaky breath. “Of course, I would understand if you were to refuse. I’ve…I’ve treated you so poorly. And I have no excuse. No right to ask for such a thing.”

  After everything that’s happened tonight, I should be disgusted at his request. I should want to take my hand away from rubbing his back and punch him in the kidney instead.

  But I don’t. I can’t explain it—not even to myself—but something in his voice is so broken. So wrong.

  I don’t answer him. Instead, I pull my hand from his and crawl up onto the bed, lying back onto the pillow and I reach out for him, almost beckoning him into my arms.

  He never even looks up, never makes eye contact at all. He crawls up onto the bed and starts to lie next to me. I expect him to lie on his side—to pull me into his arms, pressing my back to his chest—the way we’ve always been together.

  But he doesn’t. Instead, he wraps his arms around my waist and lays his head on my chest as though he’s listening to my heartbeat.

  I wrap my arms around him, curling one hand into his hair while the other rubs his back slowly, up and down and back up again.

  It seems like it might be a million years that we lie there. His breathing finally slows, evening out into something more regular than the shallow, ragged breaths that seemed like they were barely holding back his sobs. And he sleeps, his ear pressed to my heart, for the rest of the night.

  I must drift off to sleep at some point, because I’m awakened by a loud knock on the door to my suite.

  Andrew stirs and sits up. He makes eye contact with me for the first time since he arrived in my room last night. But he says nothing.

  The knock sounds against the door again and Andrew slides off the bed and strides over to answer it.

  I follow after him, almost having to run to keep up. A sense of dread washes over me when I think about who might be on the other side of the door. Clarissa? The king? William?

  If it’s Clarissa, at least we aren’t naked this time.

  The deep aching in my chest starts again at my thoughts of that woman. I suppose I could have asked Andrew about it last night—I could have made that a condition of allowing him into bed with me, but it didn’t seem right. Or necessary. Whatever happened between Andrew and Clarissa, it’s pretty clear it’s causing him more suffering than I can possibly understand.

  And isn’t that what he’s been telling me all along? That I could never understand his devotion to his country? I still don’t completely get it, but if he was actually able to make a decision like that—to choose to marry a woman who is so obviously a terrible match for him—his dedication to his country must run deeper than I can ever imagine.

  I suppose that’s the point—I can’t imagine. I understand being devoted. I’ve been a devoted employee for the past five years. That is the sort of dedication I can understand. But I’ve always had a choice. No one had me chained to my desk—I wasn’t born to work at some job. He’s never had a choice. He’s never had an ounce of freedom to do what he wants.

  Why haven’t I seen that before?

  The stout man is at the door when Andrew opens it—I think his name is Stephan.

  He lets out a small shriek when he sees Andrew and covers his mouth with his hand as he gives Andrew a shallow bow. He stares at Andrew for a second, dropping his hand to his side before he turns his gaze to mine. “Ms. Simpson. You are to collect your things and I am to escort you from the palace to await your transportation back to the United States.”

  I nod. “That’s fine. I haven’t unpacked since I arrived yesterday, so it should only take me a second to get my stuff.” I stare at Andrew’s back for a moment and my voice lowers. “I thought I had another day. When William came to deliver the messages last night—”

  Stephan interrupts. “His Majesty reconsidered his initial assessment and decided it would be far better for you to leave at once, even if you are required some additional travel time. In fact, the Lady Clarissa insisted—”

  Andrew cuts him off this time. “Oh, fuck Lady Clarissa and her histrionics.” He turns around and looks into my eyes before he turns back to the man at the door. “You may give my father a message, Stephan.”

  Stephan bows his head.

  “Tell him there has been a change of plans.”

  The man looks up at him. “A…change? But…but, Your Highness. His Majesty has already decided—”

  Andrew interrupts with something that sounds like a growl. “And that is precisely the problem. He has decided my fate. And you may let him know that I have now decided my fate. Or rather, fate has decided for me. And my decision is clear.”

  Stephan’s brows draw together. “Your…decision, Your Highness?” He clears his throat. “And what may I tell His Majesty your decision is?”

  Andrew turns back to me and flashes me a small smile before turning back to Stephan. “You may tell him that I have chosen Victoria. And that if it means I must abdicate my role as heir to his throne, so be it.”

  Stephan’s face immediately turns four shades of purple at the news, but he gives Andrew a shallow bow and walks back into the hallway.

  He closes the door and turns back to me. “I hope that doesn’t shock you, Victoria. And I hope you understand I do not intend to frighten you in any way. I merely needed to get the message across to my father in terms I know he will understand.”

  “He’s never going to let you abdicate the throne, though. We both know that—”

  The smallest of smiles plays at the corners of his lips. “Then he’ll have to change his rules. Allow me to make my own decisions. And Victoria, I know we already discussed this, and regardless of what my father might want, I’ve already made my choice. I’ve already chosen you.”

  Andrew

  I see the
emotions come in waves across her face—confusion, followed by what I can only hope is joy, followed quickly by what appears to be frustration.

  “I…I don’t get it,” she says, throwing up her hands. “One minute you’re going to marry someone else, then you’re not, then you’re going to marry someone else again…” She shakes her head. “I can’t keep doing this. I can’t put myself through this again. I can’t keep giving myself hope and then…” She wipes the back of her hand across her eyes, turning away from me. “I know you aren’t doing this on purpose, but I need to take care of myself. I feel like I keep jumping into the same pit over and over again, expecting it not to hurt when I hit the ground this time.”

  Her choice of words brings me right back to the roof last night, and I find myself stepping forward, pulling her into my arms so that her back is against my chest. My mouth drops to her ear.

  “This is my final decision,” I tell her. “There will be no changing my mind again, I promise.”

  A tear trickles down her cheek, and there’s a hollow ache in my chest. I never meant to make her cry. Never meant to put her through all of this because of my inability to admit what I wanted—and take the risk to reach out and grab it.

  I brush my lips against her cheek. “There is no other choice for me. I can’t go back. The only time my life makes sense anymore is when I’m with you.” My voice cracks as I say it, and I know by the way she stiffens that she’s heard it.

  She twists and looks up at me, frowning. “Andrew?”

  I kiss her gently. “We’re together now. That’s what matters.”

  She turns all the way around in my arms, the furrow on her brow deepening. “What happened last night?”

  “You know what happened. Lady Clarissa caught us, and—”

  “After that.”

  I try to think of the best way to put all of this into words, but I can’t.

  “You didn’t come back,” she whispers. “And then William told me you were engaged to Lady Clarissa. And then when you finally came back here, you looked…” Her eyes close. “I’ve never seen you look like that before. Something happened.” She opens her eyes again, and all trace of tears is gone, replaced by something deep and searching.

  I can’t tell her the truth—that I contemplated ending it all. That the only reason I’m standing here now was the thought of seeing her face again. Holding her in my arms again.

  “I just realized how important you are to me,” I murmur. “That I couldn’t give you up.”

  Her lips tighten, and she gives a small shake of her head. “It’s something more than that.”

  I can see she’s not going to let me escape her questions. But before I can devise a better answer, another knock sounds at the door.

  I’m torn between wanting to ignore it—curse my father and everyone else in this blasted world—and being grateful for the escape from Victoria’s gaze.

  “Whoever it is probably won’t go away,” I say softly, stepping away from her. I stride over to the door and open it, finding Stephan sneering back at me again.

  “His Majesty has requested your immediate presence in his office,” the sniveling bastard says.

  “Of course he has.” I’m of half a mind to ignore the summons, to walk out of this damned palace with Victoria on my arm and to never look back.

  But I refuse to be a coward any longer. I want to look him in the eyes and tell him I won’t let him decide my fate any longer.

  “I should go speak with him,” I tell Victoria. “I’d like you to accompany me, if you’re willing.” As much as I hate to subject Victoria to my father, having her there will give me strength.

  For a brief moment, she looks uncertain. But then she nods. “All right.”

  I turn back to Stephan. “Inform him that Victoria and I will be along shortly.”

  Stephan’s nose wrinkles. “He asked to speak with you, Your Highness, not—”

  “Tell him Victoria will be joining me, or I won’t speak with him at all. My decision is final.”

  Stephan does not look particularly pleased by this, but I care little what this man thinks of me.

  When he’s gone, I look back at Victoria.

  “I’m going to return to my room to change,” I tell her. “I’ll be back in fifteen minutes, I promise.”

  And I am. Within half an hour of Stephan appearing at Victoria’s door, she and I find ourselves standing outside my father’s office. I lace my fingers through hers, giving her my most reassuring smile before opening the door.

  My father’s anger is so intense I swear I can feel it in the air of the room. His eyes snap to Victoria the moment we step into the room, his lips flattening into a tight line as he looks her up and down. He rises to his feet as his sharp gaze turns to me.

  “You had better have a damned good reason for this,” he says, and I can tell he’s barely containing his fury. “You’re actually considering abdicating the throne? For her?”

  I take a deep breath, trying to keep myself calm. My fingers tighten on Victoria’s.

  “I’d prefer not to abdicate,” I say evenly. “But I will not marry Lady Clarissa. That is not up for negotiation.”

  Something flashes in my father’s eyes at my open defiance, and I half expect him to leap across the desk and slap me right across the face.

  But fortunately, before any such scene can unfold, the door behind us swings open.

  My mother comes in, her skirts swishing around her. Her face is creased with worry.

  “Edmund,” she says, going straight to my father’s side. “What are you doing? What is the meaning of this?”

  Her gentle touch on his arm does little to calm my father’s anger.

  “Your son has apparently decided to abandon his duties,” he says through clenched teeth. “He’s willing to give up his claim to the throne for this…this…” He practically spits the words as he gestures at Victoria.

  My mother throws a concerned look my way before bringing her full attention back to my father. “Surely there’s been a misunderstanding—”

  “It’s simple, Mother,” I say. “His Majesty wishes me to marry Lady Clarissa, but I’ve refused. I’ve chosen Victoria, and I’ve tried to make it clear that while I don’t wish to give up my claim to the throne, I’m willing to do so if it means I am allowed to make my own choices about my life.”

  I see my mother’s grip tighten on my father’s arm. She looks back up at him. “Is this true?”

  My father’s lip twitches. “Your son has made some unforgivable choices, and he must pay the consequences.”

  “By committing to a life of misery? Really, Edmund—I knew this whole thing was a farce from the beginning. Let’s end this ridiculousness now. I only agreed to this because you promised me you’d allow Andrew to make the final decision about his marriage.”

  “That was before I realized he’d gambled away the royal scepter—”

  “A promise is still a promise,” she says. Her face hardens. “I know we do not always see eye-to-eye on matters of state, but this goes too far. Are you truly considering disowning your own son because he refuses to submit to your control?” She releases his arm, her mouth twisting in something like looks like disgust. “You are not the man I thought you were, Edmund.”

  She doesn’t wait for his response. She turns on her heel and strides back across the room to the door.

  I’ve never heard my mother speak to my father like that before. My father looks just as stunned by it as I am—his mouth falls open slightly as he watches her leave the room. His shoulders jerk forward, almost as if he means to go after her, but then he seems to remember that Victoria and I are here. His expression clouds again as his gaze returns to me.

  “Look what you’ve done to your mother,” he says. “You’re destroying your own family. And you will destroy this very country if you continue to act with such selfishness. It is your duty to put the needs of Montovia above all else.”

  His words so perfectly echo the vo
ice that lives in my mind, the one that constantly reminds me of how I’m failing my country. I almost succumb to it then, almost agree to lay everything down for the sake of Montovia.

  But then I feel Victoria’s grip tighten on mine, and I remember why I’m here. Remember what hope feels like.

  “A miserable man would never be the sort of king Montovia deserves,” I say. “And I would die before agreeing to such a life. If you will not accept my decision, then I cannot change that. But I refuse to go another day pretending I don’t have the freedom of choice—I do. And I have made that choice.”

  My father slams his fist on the desk. “You will not make a mockery of the crown a moment longer. As long as you insist upon this foolishness, you will not be welcome in this palace.”

  “So be it,” I say. I turn, tugging Victoria toward the door. “Good day, Your Majesty.”

  “I am not done with you!” my father roars after me.

  I ignore him. I’ve heard enough—it’s clear he has no intention of changing his mind this morning.

  Victoria is frowning.

  “You should go back in there,” she says, trying to pull her hand out of mine. “I’ll leave. I’m the one causing the problem. If I weren’t in the picture—”

  “You won’t leave. You and I belong together—that is the only thing I know with any certainty right now.”

  “But your father—”

  “Will have a long talk with my mother, I’m sure. Perhaps once he’s calmed down she can persuade him to be lenient.”

  “And if she can’t?”

  If she can’t… I don’t want to think about that.

  We’ve reached the end of the corridor, and as we turn the corner, we nearly run right into my sister Sophia. She’s leaning against the wall, almost as if she’s been waiting for us.

  “God, you’ve done it this time,” she says. “I could hear him screaming from here.”

  “You know Father,” I say, still trying to keep my voice even.

  “I know he has a stick up his ass. This is the twenty-first century. We should be allowed to marry whomever we want.” She looks at Victoria, her lips turning up into a smile. “You’ll make a far better wife for Andrew than any of those other stuffy ladies—”