Page 65 of The Prince and the Bodyguard
“She’s your sister,” I said, trying to inject some calm into the situation. “She loves you. That has to count for something.”
“You don’t understand,” Eddie said, his voice tight with panic. “Charlotte’s entire life is built around duty and service. She’s never put a foot wrong, never caused a scandal, never even been photographed looking less than perfect. If she thinks I’m jeopardizing the family or the institution?—”
“Then we’ll deal with that when it happens. But Eddie, she asked us to talk. That’s not the response of someone planning to turn you in.”
Eddie nodded, but I could see he wasn’t convinced. The careful distance he’d been maintaining snapped back into place, and Prince Gregory reasserted himself with visible effort.
“Twenty minutes,” he said, his voice formal again. “We should arrive separately.”
The next twenty minutes felt like twenty hours. I made my way to the guest room where Eddie was staying through corridors that suddenly felt hostile, every staff member and security officer a potential threat. By the time I reached his door, my nerves were strung tighter than piano wire. He opened immediately, then closed and locked the door behind me.
“No one will disturb us here,” he said. “The staff know better than to interrupt.”
Charlotte was already there, sitting in one of the ridiculously formal chairs—or maybe these were called settees? I wasn’t exactly a furniture expert. She’d changed from her formal day wear into casual clothes, jeans and a sweater that made her look a thousand times more accessible.
Eddie and I sat down next to each other on the hard, uncomfortable couch. The three of us stayed silent for a moment, the weight of the situation settling around us like a heavy blanket.
“How long?” Charlotte asked finally.
Eddie and I exchanged glances. “How long what?” Eddie replied carefully.
“How long have you been in love with each other? Because what I saw out there wasn’t the beginning of something. That was two people who’ve been together for a while finding a moment of connection.”
The directness of the question seemed to catch Eddie off guard. I saw him struggle with how much to reveal, and decided to take the lead. “Two months.”
Charlotte nodded as if this confirmed something she’d suspected. “You share an apartment, correct?”
“Yes. The apartment we have is for couples only, so we’ve been posing as a couple as well,” I told her. “All under his assumed name of Eddie York, obviously.”
“I see.” Charlotte was quiet for a long moment, processing this information. “Greg, do you understand what this means? What you’re risking?”
“Of course I understand,” Eddie snapped, some of his desperation bleeding through. “Do you honestly think I chose this? Do you think I wanted to fall in love with someone I can never have a future with?”
“That’s not what I meant,” Charlotte said gently. “I meant do you understand that what you’re feeling—what you both are feeling—is not going to go away simply because it’s inconvenient?”
Eddie stared at her, clearly not expecting this response. “Charlie…”
“I’ve watched you for the past three days, watched you perform your duties and attend your meetings and smile at all the right people. And you’ve been miserable, Greg. Completely, thoroughly miserable in a way I haven’t seen since right after Mum died.”
The mention of their mother seemed to hit Eddie like a physical blow. He closed his eyes, struggling for composure.
“But then,” Charlotte continued, “I saw you in that alcove with Special Agent Puller, and for a moment, you looked like yourself again. Happy. Real. Alive.”
“Bash,” I said. “My name is Bash.”
“Bash.” She extended her hand, and it made me smile. “I’m Charlotte, but my brother and my friends call me Charlie.”
I saw this for the olive branch it was. “Pleasure to meet you, Charlie.”
“Likewise, Bash.” Then her smile faded and she looked between us, her expression thoughtful rather than condemning. “So let me ask you this: what do you want to do about it?”
The question hung in the air like a challenge. Eddie opened his eyes, meeting his sister’s gaze directly for the first time since we’d entered the room. “I want to be with him. I want to wake up next to him every morning and fall asleep in his arms every night. I want to build a life with him, have a future with him, maybe even marry him someday. I want all the things I shall never be permitted to have.”
His voice broke on the last words, and I felt my heart shatter for him. This was the first time he’d articulated his desires so clearly, so completely, and hearing them laid out like that made the impossibility of our situation feel even more crushing.
“Why can’t you have them?” Charlotte asked.
“Because I’m fourth in line to the throne. Because I have obligations and duties and expectations that don’t include falling in love with my American bodyguard. Because Father and Uncle Henry have already chosen Lady Margaret as my suitable wife. Because what I want doesn’t matter compared to what the family needs.”
