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karahalloway · 4 months

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(Less Than) Noble Intentions: Chapter 16 - Snakes in the Garden

Fandom: TRR

Pairing: Drake Walker x F!OC (Harper Gale)

Series Summary: The social season may be over, but Harper Gale’s problems are just beginning. With everyone at court a potential suspect, can she and Drake survive the engagement tour and get to the bottom of the plot against her and clear her name? An AU take of TRR2 featuring my OTP - Harper & Drake.

Masterlist: (Less Than) Noble Intentions

Chapter Summary: Harper greets the world as the new Duchess of Valtoria, but that is not the only newsworthy item that rocks the Apple Harvest Festival...

Word Count: 7,300

Rating/Warnings: M (swearing, angst, possible ulterior motives)

Chapter theme song:

A/N1: Things are slowly coming to a head! Thanks for bearing with me on this series - I know I have a lot of other projects in the works, so I have not been updating as much as I probably should. But, we are finally getting to the exciting parts (as if what's happened until now hasn't been exciting 🤣) as after this chapter, we are into the meat of the engagement tour, and all the juicy plot changes that I have been wanting to write for over a year will finally come to a fore! *evil laugh*

A/N2: If you have not heard of TURN - the TV show from which I borrowed the chapter theme song - then, I can highly recommend it (especially if you like historical dramas, US history (specifically the Revolutionary War period), or just really good story-telling)!

A/N3: This is also much submission for @choicesjanuary2024 Day 12: Smiles / Secret

Chapter 16 - Snakes in the Garden

"Are you sure I look okay?" I ask, nervously pulling at the high-necked strip of emerald lace that circles my throat.

"Stop fiddling!" Bertrand berates, slapping my hand away. "We are running late as it, and we cannot afford to lose any more time to last minute touch-ups!"

"Yeah, but—"

"You look great, Harper," Maxwell assures me with a beaming smile. "Marcie did a great job."

The petite make-up artist that the Beaumonts had procured out of thin air bobs a curtsy to my right. "It was my pleasure, Your Grace."

Her words hit me like a whiplash.

Your Grace.

My new form of address. One I'm not sure I'm ever going to get used to. Lady Harper had been one thing, but that had always felt like a curtesy. A temporary formality that had been extended to me by virtue of my sponsorship by the Beaumonts during the social season.

But there is nothing temporary about my current situation. The weight of the ring on my hand — and its implications — bears down heavily on my finger... and my thoughts. Especially since I still haven't found a moment alone with Drake to finish our conversation from this morning... or bring him up to speed on my new status.

Because no sooner had my ennoblement been sealed with the very expensive — and very potent — champagne, than the Beaumonts had shown back up (somewhat mercifully) to crash Christian's surprise party.

And from there it had been a whirlwind of hair, makeup and outfitting for the all-important Apple Harvest Festival where I am due to make my grand debut as the new Duchess of Valtoria.

A position of some importance — Bertrand has stressed, multiple times — given that in addition to the impressive estate that I am now the official caretaker of, I also have a seat on the infamous Council, as well as a seat on the even more exclusive Privy Council. Not to mention my own fleet of staff, vehicles, bank accounts, and carefully curated online profiles.

Which is why — on top of everything — the ever-industrious press corps have worked at record speed to throw the fruits of yesterday's labours together into an exclusive, twelve-page spread as part of a special edition of Trend magazine, which dropped this morning.

And while I haven't actually had a chance to read through the copy that currently sits on the coffee table of my room (together with every other major national and international news publication), Maxwell has assured me that the social media reactions have — so far — been positive. The snaps of my stress-fuelled efforts at yesterday's apple pick have apparently helped.

Which means that Jonathan's PR gamble is starting to pay dividends, and I now have a public image to maintain. Not just for myself, but for Cordonia as well. Because when I step outside today, I'll be representing everything that the kingdom under Christian's burgeoning rule is striving to be — beauty, modernity, opportunity.

Definitely not the best day to wake up with a litany of awkwardly situated bruises!

Thankfully, both Maxwell and Bertrand seem to have had a chance to pull themselves together after this morning's surprising (and definitely explosive!) turn of events, and — after the initial shock — have set about covering for mine and Drake's mess with the same coordinated precision that they employed to pull the Beaumont Bash out of their butts.

With the result that they somehow managed to transform me from the black and blue disaster I woke up as, into the picture of a polished and refined lady.

I glance apprehensively out at the bright sunshine blanketing the hills. Hopefully, the carefully applied window-dressing survives the literal trial by fire it's about to be subjected to. Because just like yesterday, the temperature is set to climb into the mid-90's today as well, which means I'll most likely end up sweating buckets again, thanks to the Edwardian nature of my dress's neckline.

And what I definitely don't need today is for all the blush and cover-up getting smudged away so that everyone at the event can start speculating about the intimate placement of my of hickeys!

I close my eyes wearily. God, I can't wait for all this to be over...

"No catnaps!" snaps Bertrand, slapping a wide-brimmed hat onto my head. "The people are waiting on us!"

I barely have time to grab my matching clutch before the Beaumonts are whisking me out of my room and down the length of the corridor towards the manor's lawn.

"Surely the Festival can start without us...!" I gasp as I stumble after Bertrand in my heels.

"No, it cannot," he reprimands. "All members of the Council must be present for the ceremonial tree planting."

I frown. "Tree planting? Isn't that a little... agrarian for the aristos?"

"It is a time-honoured tradition!" corrects Bertrand. "Cordonia owes its existence and livelihood to the noble Ruby, so it is the duty of the Council to ensure that the fruits of our bounty are secured for future generations! Hence, the requirement to plant new saplings at the end of each harvest!"

"If you say so..." I concede as we pass through the back doors of the manor.

Based on what I saw at the apple pick, Bertrand's pronouncement seems optimistic at best, given that none of the aristos even bothered to lift a finger to a tree yesterday.

But, looks can always be deceiving, so maybe today is the day that the I am pleasantly surprised for once.

A deafening cheer erupts as the Beaumonts and I step out onto the manor's steps.

Snapping my head towards the source of the commotion, I see what appears to be thousands of people crammed behind velvet-lined cordons, screaming and jostling for position like they're in the front row of a Taylor Swift concert...

...and it takes me a second to realise that it's my name that they're shouting.

"Duchess!"

"Lady Harper, we love you!"

"You're the true Apple Queen, no matter what anyone says!"

"Wow..." I blink, taken aback by the fervency of the crowd's reaction. "I didn't realise I had such a rabid following..."

"Best wave to them," suggests Maxwell, leaning in as he raises his arm into the air with a wide smile.

"Okay..." I concede hesitantly, turning to the crowd to do the same.

The last time I experienced anything remotely like this had been on the red carpet at the Derby — my first public outing as a suitor. But even the bright flash of the cameras and the intrusive questions that the reporters had flung at me paled in comparison to the reaction I am receiving today.

Phones and cameras are thrust into the air as the Beaumonts and I descend the manor's stairs to the accompaniment of the increasingly frenzied cheers and shouts of encouragement. Even a few bouquets of flowers fly through the air, narrowly missing my hat.

And I can't help but smile in the face of the genuine outpouring of support from the crowd. Because it sure as heck feels good to be on top for once!

However, arriving at the edge of the orchard where the tree planting ceremony is due to take place, I am greeted by a very different type of welcome.

Snooty expressions drip down the ends of aristocratic noses as the members of the Council pass silent judgment on my somewhat bombastic entrance.

"They're just jealous," Maxwell whispers to me as we take up our spots at the edge of the gathering.

"Yeah..." I agree with a stilted voice. "That's what I'm worried about."

I know firsthand of the lengths that these people are willing to go to in order to exact vengeance for perceived slights. And I did not particularly feel like painting a target on my back a second time while I am still trying to recover from the hurt caused by the first.

Maybe this is a mistake...

But I don't have time to think on it long, because the public erupts into an even more deafening outburst as Christian appears with Madeleine on his arm.

"Look at her..." snips a voice from behind me. "Acting like she's Queen already."

I whip around in disbelief. "Olivia!"

The Duchess of Lythikos cuts her green eyes over at me with a derisive look. "Oh, don't look so surprised, Harper. Just because you are now a duchess, does not mean that the rest of us have taken early retirement."

"Trust me," I grumble under my breath, "this was not the plan."

"Opportunities multiply as they are seized," she replies sagely.

I quirk a brow at her. "Meaning?"

"Meaning," she expounds surly, "opportunity breeds opportunity. And only by exploiting every advantage will you uncover previously hidden gains. Do they not teach The Art of War inyour schools?"

"No..."

She scoffs under her breath. "Explains a lot."

I roll my eyes at her as Christian and Madeleine pause on the steps for photos and a couple of quick sound bites. "I guess this means your sabbatical was productive?"

"Exceedingly."

I heave a breath. "At least one of us is making progress..."

"Oh, don't sell yourself short," she counters out of the corner of her mouth. "Your recent advancements have served as a welcome distraction..."

"Not sure if that’s a compliment, or not..." I admit sourly.

"You have more power than you realise," she insists quietly. "Make sure you use it."

"Wow..." I mutter, glancing over at her in genuine surprise. "Friendly advice from the Scarlet Duchess? What else have you learnt during your time away?"

"Our interests are temporarily aligned, nothing more," she replies, shooting daggers across the lawn towards Madeleine. "And I'll fill you in shortly."

"Well, it's good to have you back, regardless," I say with a dip of my head. "Your Grace."

Olivia shoots me a sidelong look. "Don't get sentimental on me, Duchess."

But I can see the hint of a smile pulling at her lips.

Christian and Madeleine arrive at the edge of the trees. Stepping up to the row of waiting saplings, Christian pulls a stack of notecards out of his pocket and delivers a short speech to the click of the cameras.

As the mandatory applause dies down, he slots the pieces of paper carefully away... and pulls off his jacket.

"What are you doing?" hisses Madeleine as the crowd descends into a hubbub of excited reactions.

"Taking a leaf out of the Duchess of Valtoria's book," he replies, handing his jacket off to the closest shocked Councillor as he sets about rolling up his sleeves.

"Out of—!" Madeleine bristles in indignation, while trying to maintain an outwardly calm composure. "The only thing you have taken is leave of your senses! Now get back here and—!"

Ignoring his fiancée's outburst, Christian grabs the ribbon-bedecked shovel out of the hands of the footman that was holding it, and steps up to a clear patch of grass. Adjusting his grip on the handle, he digs the metal blade decisively into the ground to the accompanying slew of clicking camera shutters.

"Shall we?" asks Olivia with a sly smirk as she pushes her way to the front of the line of gawping nobles.

"Let's," I agree, instantly catching onto her plan.

"Lady Harper!" hisses Bertrand from behind me. "What do you think you're—?"

"Lending a hand to the King," I throw back over my shoulder as I step to the front of the row of aristos who are looking mutely onto the sight of their monarch working up an actual sweat before them.

Grabbing another shovel from the pile in the corner — these ones obviously having seen some honest work already, judging by the dirt encrusted on their faces — I join the King of Cordonia in enlarging the hole in the ground.

Because regardless of Christian's underlying motives for ennobling me, and whatever his broader game may be, what he is doing right now is bigger than me, bigger than him, bigger than any of us. And that deserves recognition. Especially when he is taking such active — and public — strides towards being the change he wants to see unfurl during his rule. Where the ruling class doesn't just offer empty platitudes and hollow ceremony, but actually practices what it preaches. So, what better way to do that, than by planting the seeds of change in front of thousands of people in the literal heart of the kingdom?

Christian rewards my arrival with a nod and a smile as I take up position next to him.

Hefting my shovel, I slice it into the earth that he's already uncovered, using the somewhat flimsy sole of my heeled sandals to drive it deeper.

Scooping the blade back out, I suddenly feel a presence to my left. Looking up, I see that Maxwell has also joined our impromptu work crew.

Throwing me a wink, he drops his shovel in next to mine.

With the three of us working on tandem, it takes us almost no time at all to dig out a hole large enough to house the new apple tree.

Wiping the sweat from my forehead — the weatherman had not lied, that's for sure! — I see that Olivia, with some assistance from Hana, has already prepared the sapling by shunting it closer to the hole and removing the burlap covering from its roots.

Laying down our shovels, we help her manoeuvre the tree to the edge of the dint. Cheers and applause rise up from the onlookers as the sapling thuds into the earth. Olivia uses one of the knives from her hidden arsenal to slice off the twines holding the branches together, and the tree unfurls itself with a satisfied snap.

"Your Majesty!" shouts a reporter, who I recognise as Frederick Capone. "One for the Cordonian Times, if you please!"

"And for the CBS!" adds Donald Brine, muscling his way to the front.

"Certainly," accedes Christian graciously, holding his arm out. "It was a group effort, after all."

We all gather in — sweaty and dirty, but smiling — as the press corps immortalises the scene...

...and I innocuously sweep my hair over my shoulder in a vain effort to try and hide any bruises that may have become uncovered as a result of the unplanned exertion.

"Thank you for joining me in my moment of impulsivity," Christian acknowledges softly as the bulbs flash.

"Please," scoffs Olivia out of the side of her mouth. "It was coordinated from the start."

"The people don't seem to mind," counters Hana with a demure smile as she faces the cameras.

"With the exception of about half-dozen," I note, glancing back at the disgruntled looks of the Councillors from behind us, as they try to save face by applauding our efforts together with the rest of the crowd.

"They'll fall in line." Christian assures me as he lifts his hand with a wave.

I feel a prick between my shoulder blades. Turning my head, I catch sight of the cold fire radiating out of Madeleine's gaze from behind the mask of her perfect smile.

"Maybe not everyone..." I mutter under my breath as I turn back towards the paps.

I'm already on Madeleine's shit list for daring to return to court after my very public humiliation and banishment. On the night of her engagement tour launch party, no less! So, the fact that I ended up upstaging her — again — probably means that I've sunk even further down the ladder of her estimations.

To what end, I have no idea. But I'm going to have to start being more careful from here on out.

Once the press are finally placated, we disperse across the lawn in search of some much-needed refreshments.

"Harper!"

I swallow a groan as I'm brought up short, mere steps from the freshly squeezed, rosemary-infused lemonade that I desperately need after toiling away in this heat. "What now, Bertrand...?"

"I... uhm..." He clears his throat as I turn to face him. "I wanted to apologise for my earlier outburst. It was unseemly... and in retrospect, short-sighted."

"What do you mean?" I ask with a frown. Bertrand very rarely — if ever! — apologised.

"The public reaction to the tree planting has been overwhelming," he clarifies, pulling his phone out.

My eyes bulge as I take in the view count on the screen. "A hundred thousand views already!"

"And counting," Bertrand adds. "And that is only one website."

"And look at the comments!" I exclaim, scrolling through the feed. "They're loving Maxwell as well!"

"Yes, it appears that my brother has a keener instinct for media relations than I do..."

"You should tell him that," I say. "It would mean the world to him."

Bertrand looks momentarily taken aback. "I... Well..." He clears his throat again. "Yes. Maybe I will. He deserves some recognition for his efforts in diverting — at least temporarily — the negative attention away from our financial predicaments."

"A simple hug and a 'thank-you' will do," I tell him with a knowing look.

Bertrand reels back in abject horror. "I will not subject my brother to such a sordid display of affection! Especially in public!"

I heave a sigh. "And there's your problem, right th—"

I trail off as I spot a familiar figure signalling to me from over Bertrand's shoulders.

"Excuse me," I say, palming Bertrand's phone back to him as I move towards one of the marquees that had been set up at the edge of the lawn.

Slipping inside the flap of the tent, I come face-to-face with Ana de Luca.

"Your Grace," she nods, dipping into a curtesy, something she hasn't deigned to do before. "Thank you for making the time."

"Ana," I nod in return, wondering why the influential editor of Trend chose to pull me away for a private meeting. Especially after I cornered her so forcefully at Madeleine's garden party a few days ago.

"I suppose congratulations are in order," she continues, straightening back up. "Since returning to court you have managed to elevate yourself not just in rank, but in the eyes of the public as well. Rolling your sleeves up in tandem with the King was a masterful piece of image enhancement."

"I didn't do it for myself," I reply evenly.

"Of course," she nods quickly. "We must all step in line with our new King. But your reputation is certainly reaping the benefits as well."

"As is your bottom line," I point out.

"Your initiative is markedly boosting sales of this month's special edition, as well as traffic to our website," she concedes. "For which Trend is very grateful. But that is not the reason I pulled you aside."

"What is it then?"

"I found out the name of the photographer," she replies, reaching into her handbag.

I feel my heart jump in my chest. "You're joking..."

She raises a brow at me from behind the lenses of her black-out Versace shades as she pulls a small flash-drive out. "I can assure you that I am not."

I quickly pull myself back together. "No. Of course not..."

Handing the drive over, she adds. "On there you will find all the pertinent information I was able to obtain through my own means."

"Thank you," I say sincerely, taking the piece of plastic from her. "I honestly was not expecting this..."

She shrugs an elegant shoulder. "I said I would look into it, so I did. It is not much, but I am sure you have people who can hopefully take it further."

"I do," I affirm, slotting the device into my clutch.

"After all," she adds with a knowing quirk to her lips. "You are not the only one with a vested interest in seeing your name cleared, Your Grace."

With another quick bob, she exits the marquee.

I let out a low exhale as the tent flap drops back into place in her wake. "Thank God..."

Some much-needed progress at last!

Hopefully, Drake can take the information from the drive and do a deep dive into the photographer to see if they ever crossed paths with whoever it is that has it in for me.

Which reminds me...

Opening my clutch up again, I pull my phone out and type up a quick message to my elusive boyfriend.

I haven't seen or heard from him since the event started. And now I have two pieces of critical information I need to share with him. So, rather than chasing after him like some damsel in distress, I'm going to make him come to me for a change. Because time is of the essence, and I don't want to wait.

Hitting send, I exit the tent and head back towards the orchard. I figure that since everyone is on the lawn, the secluded garden hidden amongst the trees will give me and Drake the best chance to meet in private, away from the prying eyes of the court and the press.

Slipping between the tree trunks, I try to make my way as casually as possible through the orchard, as if I am simply out for a walk, in order to ward off potential suspicion. But, as I drift further away from the Festival, I start to pick up the pace, mindful of the short timeframe I gave Drake... as well as the exposed roots on the ground.

Because as much as I might want to hurry, I definitely don't want — or need — a twisted ankle the day before we're due to start the international leg of the trip. As Mom was right — I should take advantage of the upcoming whirlwind tour of Europe to at least try and get some sightseeing in. As who knows when I'll get the chance to do this again...

...especially if I'm forced to become a hermit because we fail to expose the mastermind behind the press scandal.

I shake my head. No. I need to stay positive. It's the only way I'm going to get through—

"Competing with a herd of elephants, Gale?"

I snap my gaze up at the sound of Drake's voice... and nearly trip over a hidden apple lodged in the grass.

"You try sneaking ‘round in four-inch heels," I grumble back at him, while using the trunk of a nearby tree to steady myself.

He mutters something under his breath as he steps over to me with an outstretched hand. "Here."

Grabbing his hand, I navigate gingerly away from the tree, only to find that the slightly rotten fruit has become impaled on the end of my stiletto.

"Great..." I groan, trying to flick the stupid thing off... But it stays stubbornly stuck.

"You're a walking disaster, y'know that, right?" drawls Drake as he drops down in front of me.

"Ha-ha, funny," I snark back at him while trying to balance on one foot on the uneven ground.

He meets my eye with a wry look as he finally manages to pull the offending fruit off with a squelch. "You're only gripin' 'cause it's true."

"Yeah, well, not all of us have... reflexes... like Neo..." I reply sardonically as I save myself from tipping over by grabbing onto Drake's shoulder.

He stifles a scoff as he tosses the apple into the trees. "You good?"

"Yeah," I confirm, righting myself again and letting go of his shirt.

Drake regards me critically for a long moment — as if expecting me to keel over again at the drop of a hat — before pushing himself up.

"Thanks," I say, laying an appreciative hand on his arm.

The humour fades from his gaze at the contact.

"Drake..." I start...

...but he's already pulled away.

"What did you want to talk about?" he asks, not quite meeting my eyes as he slots his hands into his pockets, the momentary lightness of our previous interaction gone.

I heave a breath.

We really need to talk about what happened this morning. But his suddenly standoffish demeanour makes it clear that he's not quite ready for that yet.

So, I decide to start with something less contentious.

"We have a lead on the photographer," I tell him, reaching into my clutch.

His head perks up with interest. "That was fast."

"Teamwork makes the dream work," I agree with a smile, pulling the flash drive back out and holding it out to him.

His posture suddenly stiffens. "The hell is that?"

I glance around me uncertainly. "What?"

"The fucking ring on your finger," he declares dispassionately, his accusatory gaze scorching into my outstretched hand.

My heart drops. Oh, no...

This is not how I wanted to break it to him. But unfortunately for both of us, the cat has now ripped itself out of the proverbial bag, so I'm just going to have to scamper after it.

Taking a steadying inhale, I look him square in the eye. "It's my new signet ring." I turn my hand over to show it to him.

His face darkens. "Fils de pute de—" he grits under his breath, snapping a hand out to grab my wrist.

My eyes widen. "Drake, what are y—?"

A storm is raging in his espresso gaze. "Signet rings go on the little finger. On the right hand."

"Oh," is all I can manage as he swipes the golden band off my left ring finger.

"You didn't know, did you?" he asks softly, reaching for my other hand... more gently this time.

I shake my head with a constricted throat. "No, I—"

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

My head jerks ‘round at the sound of the unexpected voice. "Christian!"

"I see you couldn't resist a somewhat impulsive stroll through the orchards, either?" he asks, more rhetorically than anything else. "The scent of apples is truly luscious this time of year."

"Erm... yes...!" I manage to squeak out, shoving my right hand behind my back. "Smells like apple juice!"

Christian's brow quivers ever so slightly at my slightly random — and obviously unexpected — comparison.

But I'm too busy coordinating with Drake to get the signet ring shoved back onto my hand while trying to palm the flash drive off to him without dropping either in the process. As both outcomes would lead to some very awkward conversations!

I feel the warmth of the metal slide onto the index finger of my hand (Drake had probably ascertained that the circumference of the band was too large for my pinky), and I'm finally able to breathe a sigh of relief.

Embarrassing backpedaling, narrowly averted!

Drake uses the opportunity to extract the flash drive from my hand as well, dropping the device casually into his pocket as he moves beside me. "She ain't wrong."

"No," concedes Christian, eying the two of us for a second longer than strictly comfortable. "She rarely is."

"So, umm... Are you hiding from the paps as well?" I ask in a bid to diffuse the growing tension in the air.

"No, I came looking for you, actually," he corrects, taking a step forward. "I saw you slip into the orchard, and thought it prudent to follow you."

"Oh?" I say, feeling my stomach tighten again. "Worried I might get lost?"

"I was hoping to catch you alone," he corrects, coming to a stop in front of me.

I swallow tightly as I see him glance over at Drake.

Please don't fight... Please don't fight...

Christian's gaze reverts to me. "But I suppose it is convenient for Drake to happen to be here as well."

My heart skips an uncomfortable beat. "It is?"

"Yes," he affirms. "I have received some news that you'll both be interested in hearing."

"Well, don't keep us in damn suspense, then..." mutters Drake with a noticeable edge to his voice.

I try to reach discretely out to brush my fingers against his, to reassure him that come what may, we'll get through it together, that—

"We found Tariq."

Christian's words hit me like a kick to the chest. The breath explodes out of me so forcefully that I am actually forced to take a step back in a bid to maintain my balance as the apple trees descend into a spin around me.

No way...

"Where?"

Drake's voice floats across the edge of my awareness. And even in my spaced-out state, I can feel the weight of the cold, calculated fury infused into that single word.

No corner... No mercy.

"Dubai," replies Christian, who also sounds like he's miles away. "He—"

But Drake's already spun away. "Send me the coordinates."

"Harper?"

I blink up at Christian in a daze. "Huh?"

"Are you alright?" he asks, laying a concerned hand on my cheek. "You... You looked as if you were about to faint..."

"I..." I swallow past the sudden dryness in my throat. "I'm okay."

"Are you certain?" he presses, peering down at me. "I could ring for a doctor, and—"

"No," I insist, pulling away from him. "I'm fine. I... I guess I just got caught off-guard..."

"It is an unexpected development, certainly," he concedes. "But hopefully still a welcome one?"

"Yes!" I blurt out. "Of course! I want to clear my name more than anyone, and Tariq is key to that! I just..." My voice trails uncertainly off.

Christian flashes me a knowing half-smile. "Feel some trepidation about the prospect...?"

"I guess so," I concede, my fingers moving unconsciously to the horseshoe charm at my wrist.

Because as much as I may want Tariq to pay for what he did from a rational point of view, from an emotional standpoint, I’m terrified.

As even though I know in the back of my mind that a lot of my trepidation has to do with the fact that I am still trying to recover from the psychological trauma that Tariq inflicted on me, a major part of me is also scared of what setting the record straight would entail in practice.

Christian had mentioned that there were 'methods of persuasion' that could be used to force a confession from Tariq. But then what? Would I be made to very publicly relive the entire horrible episode in the form of TV spots and interviews, or would we be able to get by with one official press release? And given my spotty history with the press, will people actually believe my side of the story...?

I mean, Meghan and Harry didn’t exactly fare well in the court of public opinion when they tried to counter the official royal narrative...

On top of all that, in light of my very visceral reactions to returning to Applewood, I have no idea how I'm going to react to seeing Tariq in person again. Would I burst into tears? Have a nervous breakdown? Dissolve into a panic attack? Stab him in the gut and then the nuts?

And (possibly worst of all) what if we discover that Tariq had been acting alone? And his attack on me — while traumatising — is in no way connected to the larger, and definitely more dangerous plot to remove me from the running for Queen? What then...?

"Your qualms are not as misplaced as you may initially think," Christian consoles. "It is a daunting prospect to face the person who actively sought to harm you."

Something in his tone catches my attention. "What do you mean?"

Christian heaves a sigh. "I do not know if you are aware of this, but several years ago, I was the target of an assassination attempt."

I nod tightly. "Yes. Drake told me."

"Then I presume he also told you how deeply the experience affected me," he says, catching my eye with an uncharacteristically guarded look.

"Yes," I affirm, thinking back to the conversation in Olivia's wine cellar that felt like years ago.

"What he probably didn't tell you, however," he continues, "is that I visited the perpetrator in prison."

My jaw drops. "You what!"

"Not publicly and certainly not in any official capacity." He shakes his head wryly. "I did not even talk to the man."

"Then why...?"

"I... I was having trouble reconciling with what had happened," he explains. "And moving past it. The trauma councillor that I was working with suggested that it was perhaps because I was subconsciously endowing the gunman with too much power, and thereby transmuting the man into something more akin to an evil monster."

A shiver runs down my spine at Christian's words. It's like he's talking about Tariq...

"So, to help break the negative emotional associations I had built up, my councillor arranged a clandestine meeting where I would have the opportunity to face the man."

"How... How did that go?" I ask nervously.

"I was terrified, of course," Christian admits. "I had no idea what to expect and each scenario I imagined in my head was worse than the last. But, when I finally got into room where the meeting was to take place, I was surprised by what I saw. As rather than some hulking, shadowy fiend, it was a pale, somewhat diminutive man sat across from me."

"So… what did you do?"

"We simply sat at a table and stared at each other," he recounts. "He with more than a bit of contemptuous malice, I have to admit, but in that moment, I realised that he was a flesh-and-blood person who had fallen prey to the same misguided emotions as I — anger, fear, resentment — just manifested differently. And that helped set me onto the path of true healing. As ultimately, I was able to forgive him."

"Forgive him?" I gasp disbelievingly. "For trying to murder you?"

"Nobody acts in isolation," Christian advises calmly. "Even the most unconscionable horrors perpetrated by the villains of humanity — torture, mass murder, genocide — sprout from the basis of an emotional or psychological motivator such as love, fear, greed, jealousy... to name but a few. So, while we may disagree with and condemn the action retrospectively from the safety of the moral high-ground, it is very possible that had we found ourselves in a similar situation, we would end up being just as guilty as the person we are looking to condemn."

"So, what?" I demand testily. "I should feel sorry for Tariq for what he did to me?"

"Showing empathy and compassion towards our counterparts does not mean forgetting or excusing the harm suffered," counsels Christian. "But it will certainly allow you to start on the path of true healing."

I shake my head as I turn away. "I'm not sure Tariq deserves that..."

"It is by no means an easy assignment," he admits, laying a hand on my shoulder. "But even if you cannot find it in your heart presently to forgive him, do at least try to keep yourself open to the possibility down the line. You may be surprised by the results."

Looking up, I can see that there is sincerity welling on his emerald gaze. And — for once — I don't doubt the true intent of his words. "Thanks. I'll think about it."

"As diplomatic as ever," he smiles, the tips of his fingers brushing down my back as he drops his hand. "And, regardless of what you choose to do, I'll be right by your side to support you."

"Thanks," I mutter with what I hope is a genuine smile, suddenly acutely aware of the fact that with Drake’s abrupt departure, it’s just me and Christian amongst the trees. Taking a step back towards the way I’d come, I ask, "So, umm... How did you end up finding him?"

"Instagram," replies Christian with a wry chuckle as he falls into step beside me.

My head snaps up in bewilderment. "He posted his whereabouts?"

"No," he laughs, looping my arm through his in reassurance. "Not intentionally, at any rate. He took shelter on his cousin's yacht docked off the coast of the Palm Jumeirah, and—"

"What's that?" I ask with a frown.

"One of a trio of artificially constructed archipelagos located off the coast of Dubai," he explains. "They are so called for their shape, which resemble stylised palm trees."

"Sounds... fancy," I admit, while trying to maintain some semblance of platonic distance between the two of us.

"They really are a sight to behold," he affirms, pulling me back to his side. "But it is part of the reason why we were not able to locate him initially — we knew he has family in the Emirates, of course, but—"

"He does?" I interject in surprise. This is certainly news to me...!

"Yes," he nods. "His father is a Cordonian nobleman, but his mother hails from the House of Al Falasi, the branch of the Bani Yas tribe that also produced Dubai's ruling family."

My eyes widen. "So, his mom is royalty?"

"No," chuckles Christian. "She is not directly connected to the Al Maktoum dynasty. But her family is nevertheless influential in the region. Which is why when we hit a roadblock with the French authorities, we decided to focus our efforts on countries where we knew he had familial or business connections. The Emirates, however, boast a multitude of private airfields, not to mention water-based ports of entry, so attempting to narrow down Tariq’s possible time and method of arrival and determining where he went from there was providing to be a complex undertaking. Especially since we had to ensure to conduct our enquiries outside of the official channels."

"Specifically, via social media," I supply dryly.

"Yes," confirms Christian, only half jokingly. "When we realised that Tariq must have switched off or changed out his phone, Drake suggested that we set up a facial recognition-based search algorithm that could scour the various social media and news portals in a bid to help us pinpoint his exact location."

"That sounds... technical," I admit.

"A few years ago, it would have been, But the technology is relatively commonplace now, thankfully."

"So, you managed to get a hit?"

"Yes," he affirms. "One of his cousins on his mother's side posted a selfie featuring his new yacht a couple of days ago... and someone who partially matched Tariq's features was visible on the edge of the frame. But it wasn't until this morning that our man on the ground was able to obtain independent confirmation that it really was him."

"Wow..." I manage. "Talk about blind, dumb luck."

"Never underestimate the awesome power of serendipity," counsels Christian with a smile as we reach the edge of the trees again. "It certainly played a hand in crossing our paths."

I swallow nervously. "Yeah, I—"

"You have some nerve!"

Before I have a chance to realise what is happening, Madeleine has swooped in from seemingly out of nowhere to intercept us with all the wrathful precision of a homing missile.

"Ow!" I hiss, feeling the ends of her manicured nails sink into my arm as she wrenches me off Christian like I'm some kind of plague.

"One would think you would be grateful to His Majesty for his benevolent generosity in elevating your previously non-existent status to that of a duchess," she spits with barely disguised contempt as she pulls me nose-to-nose with her.

"Get off me!" I grit, trying to shake her loose.

"Madeleine..." interjects Christian from behind me in a voice that I only heard him use once before... in the hallway at Ramsford when he realised that Drake had brought me back to Cordonia. "You overstep."

But the Countess of Fydelia seems to hear neither of us as she tightens her claw-like hold on me. "Yet instead, you repay him by not only by hijacking a royal event to serve your own shameless self-aggrandisement—"

I shake my head in disbelief. "Wait... Wh—?"

"—but then you have the unmitigated gall—"

"Madeleine," says Christian again, more forcefully this time. "That is enough."

But Madeleine is oblivious to the quiet threat suffused into the sound of her name, choosing to continue her tirade instead, "—to sneak off into the bushes with my fiancé in order to do God-knows-what when he should be—"

"I said, enough!" snaps Christian, coming suddenly between Madeleine and me with a face of thunder.

The force of his command is loud enough to cause a few heads on the edge of the lawn to turn curiously towards us.

Even Madeleine startles somewhat in response to the uncharacteristically vehement order. But not enough to let go of me.

"Can you not see what she is doing?" she demands indignantly as she turns to face Christian. "Or does she have you wrapped so tightly around her finger that you cannot even—?"

"How I choose to spend my time with the Duchess of Valtoria in private is of no concern to you, Countess," interjects Christian bluntly. "Or do I need to remind you of the conditions of our engagement?"

Madeleine's alabaster cheeks flush scarlet. "No..."

"Then I strongly suggest that you unhand Lady Harper, and ensure that this kind of juvenile outburst does not happen again."

Madeleine's eyes blaze with cold fury. But she relinquishes her hold on me, nevertheless. "My apologies, Duchess..." she snips, her voice dripping with insincerity.

I reach up to rub the spot where her nails had been on the verge of puncturing my skin.

Bitch...

Christian nods tersely in approval. "Now that that is sorted, I believe our guests are waiting. Lady Madeleine, if you'd be so kind..."

Madeleine takes his arm with a look that could've killed. "Of course, Your Majesty."

"Lady Harper," acknowledges Christian with a dip of his head as he starts to steer his seething fiancée away.

Knowing that all eyes are still on us, I drop into a quick curtesy as they walk past, on one hand grateful to Christian for shutting Madeleine down, but on the other hand wondering how badly we kicked into a nest of hornets in the process.

As it is clear that Madeleine is still raging with jealous insecurity... Perhaps even more so than she had been back at her manor when she cornered me in the bathroom. And the fact that — despite the massive diamond on her finger — I now technically outrank her is definitely not helping the situation!

So much for making allies at court…

Blowing a wayward strand of hair out of my face, I turn back towards the festivities…

…only to be greeted by a wall of judgemental eyes, and more than a few camera lenses.

"Great..." I mutter under my breath.

Whether catching me with Christian had been the genuine straw that snapped Madeleine's cool, or whether she deliberately fabricated the showdown to undermine the positive reactions I got from the press earlier, the end result is the same...

I'm going to be on the front page tomorrow. Again.

Exactly in what form, I have no idea. But I've been at court long enough now to know that the whole thing will be blown completely out of proportion, and the resulting story will generate even more press frenzy.

But if there’s one thing that Drake has taught me, it’s that I cannot allow myself to give the aristos the satisfaction of ever thinking that they’ve managed to squash me into the dirt. Because that would undermine the entire reason why I came back to court in the first place, and given how close we now are to claiming back the truth, it would be a massive and premature admission of defeat.

So, raising my chin defiantly, I make my way back across the lawn to rejoin the remainder of the Festival.

The story continues in Chapter 17 - News Flash

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(Less Than) Noble Intentions only (let me know if you want to be added!)

@thetruthisthatiloveyou @anakjaybon-blog

#harper gale #drake walker #the royal romance #less than noble intentions #king liam #maxwell beaumont #bertrand beaumont #olivia nevrakis #trr fanfic #cfwc fics of the week #choices fic writers creations #choicesmonthlychallenge #choicesjanuary2024 #Spotify

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zoeywades-spouse · 1 year

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I love how if MC tells Liam that they cannot marry him because they’re in love with someone else he’s surprised but if it’s Hana or Drake he’s like makes sense, they’re both wonderful people who deserve happiness and I hope you find it with them.

However, if it’s Maxwell Liam literally just stares at MC in shock, completely bamboozled, blown away. Because out of all the beautiful and available nobles and people in the court MC literally fell for the most ridiculous person there

#Liam really was just like are you shitting me?#MAXEWELL??#choices #playchoices #choices stories you play #the royal romance #the royal romance 2 #trr #trr 2 #king Liam #maxwell beaumont

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storyofmychoices · 9 months

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Shadows and Deceptions: A Royal Murder Mystery (Masterlist)

In the heart of Cordonia's grand ballroom, an eclectic cast of characters gathers, their lives interwoven as a result of a shocking turn of events. Trystan Thorne, the exiled prince with a taste for mystery, Olivia Nevrakis, the snarky Duchess skilled with daggers, Tyril Starfury, the noble elf Lord a defender of the realm, Amalas, the enigmatic spy queen, and Prince Hamid, the charming and formal imperial prince. Amidst the grand party of the birth of King Liam's third heir, Princess Ariana, the joyous celebration is broken by a piercing scream, a dead body, and a room full of royal suspects.

Each section begins with a quote that provides some insight into the story. Most are by famous fictional detectives. Each post includes two sections (ie: I & II, III & IV, etc)

I. Every man at the bottom of his heart believes that he is a born detective. (John Buchan)

II. Have patience and endure; this unhappiness will one day be beneficial. (Ellery Queen)

III. From now on, it is our task to suspect each and every one amongst us. (Justice Wargrave)

IV. Truth arises from the seemingly irrelevant. (C. Auguste Dupin)

V. --- In the Ballroom with the Dagger? (Clue inspired)

VI. Put two and two together... sometimes the answer's four... and sometimes it's twenty-two. (Nick Charles)

VII. When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth. (Sherlock Holmes)

VIII. It is not the past that matters, but the future. (Poirot)

Series Information:

Books: The Royal Romance Series, Crimes of Passion, Desire & Decorum, Blades of Light and Shadow

Characters: Trystan Thorne (M, race not mentioned), Marguerite Thorne, Olivia Nevrakis, Queen Amalas, Maxwell Beaumont, Daniel, King Liam, Tyril Starfury, Nia Ellarious, Prince Hamid

Pairings: Olivia Nevrakis x Queen Amalas ; M!Trystan Thorne x (no gender given) MC (mentioned) ; King Liam x Riley (mentioned)

Total Word Count: 6,600

Rating/Warnings: Teen, mentions of blood, stab wound, knives/daggers (no graphic descriptions)

Series Video Edit

The loveliest and talented @secretaryunpaid created little mini videos/gifs for each section and edited them together into what would be an amazing commercial for this series. Check it out:

#playchoices #choices game #the royal romance #blades of light and shadow #crimes of passion #desire & decorum #choices fan fiction #tyril starfury #trystan thorne #marguerite thorne #nia ellarious #maxwell beaumont #olivia nevrakis #queen amalas #prince hamid #lovealexhunt #choices book club

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normal-thoughts-official · 2 years

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King Liam when you tell him you're in love with Drake: he's my best friend. He deserves love. I wish you two all the best

King Liam when you tell him you're in love with Hana: how could I ever hope to compete? She is perfect. I hope it works out

King Liam when you tell him you're in love with Maxwell:

[ID: Squidward staring at Mr Krabs in disbelief, his eyes bloodshot. End ID]

#playchoices #the royal romance #liam rys #maxwell beaumont #drake walker #hana lee #im absolutely crying comparing the reactions this is so funny fjffbidjdid #screaming #described

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cordonianroyalairlines · 5 months

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All I Want for Christmas Part 1

Series: Cordonian Royal Airlines

Fandom: The Royal Romance

Pairings for series: Various

Pairing for this chapter: Riley x Drake, Liam x Max

Word Count: 2,475

Rating: General

Warnings for this chapter: None

A/N: Listen. I had an idea for the @choicesprompts #rewritechallenge holiday edition. I had the whole scene in my head, but then I decided it needed a little lead-up. Then I decided the lead-up needed a lead-up and then these characters completely just took over, threw my script out the window, and took a whole detour to examine a little budding romance between Liam and Max when this story was supposed to be focused on Drake and Riley (and it still is, mostly).

Long story short, it got a little out of hand so I have split it into two chapters. I'm tagging all of the following:

@choicesprompts rewrite challenge, holiday edition TRR x Untamed Heart (one of my all-time favorite movies). @choicesficwriterscreations holiday prompt: Stuck together in the snow; @choicesdecember2023 Christmas and @choicesholidays: This is the worst Christmas ever.

“Goodbye, Mrs. Lassiter, have a pleasant stay!” Riley waved with a smile painted on her face as the last passenger debarked. The smile faded from her face as the guests disappeared down the jet bridge and her eyes took in the heavy snowfall blanketing the runway.

Max noticed her despondent expression. “You okay, Ri?”

She turned toward her best friend and coworker with a sigh. “Remind me again why I volunteered to work this flight?”

“Uh…because your sister is getting married in less than two months, and you needed the overtime to pay for the ridiculous over-the-top bachelorette party she wants.”

“Right. Amelia,” Riley nodded to herself, “I’m doing this for her.”

“I think you do too much for her, Ri,” Max clucked at her like a mother hen, “She takes advantage of your generous nature.”

“Oh, Max, it’s fine. You only get married once!”

He arched an eyebrow at her.

“Okay,” a giggle burst out of her, “Hopefully, she only gets married once!”

“Frankly, I’m surprised she found anyone willing to marry her. Is there something wrong with him?”

“Max!” Riley laughed as she thumped him playfully on the shoulder before turning serious. “I just hope we’re able to take off tomorrow as planned.” Tomorrow was Christmas Eve, and she had promised her mother she’d be home so she could spend Christmas day with her parents and siblings.

“I wouldn’t count on it.”

Riley turned toward the voice to find the pilot striding toward them. Captain Liam Rys stopped in front of the flight attendants to announce, “There’s a blizzard headed straight for us.”

“Maybe we could just fly out right now—” Riley started hopefully.

“That’s a negative,” Liam cut her off, “that would put me over my flight limit for the day. We’ll proceed to the hotel as planned and hope for the best but be prepared to spend Christmas here.”

“Remind me why you agreed to fly into Estonia, the blizzard capital of the world, two days before Christmas?” Max grumbled.

Liam’s eyes flicked to him in annoyance. “Because of the obscene amount of money Mr. Lassiter was willing to pay for me to do so. You’ll thank me when you get your next paycheck and there’s a substantial bonus on it, on top of the holiday bonus you just received.”

“It’s okay,” Max shrugged with a tinge of disappointment in his tone, “My brother is in Japan anyway.”

Liam’s expression softened a little. “I’m sure he wishes he could spend Christmas with you.”

“Well, he’s flying with Leo, which he loves. I’m just disappointed that we’re almost never assigned to the same flight.”

Liam averted his eyes, unwilling to tell Max that was on purpose. Bertrand had requested that Max not be on the same flight as himself after the younger Beaumont’s enthusiasm became embarrassing for him. Max had gushed to a passenger about his pride in his older sibling, proudly articulating that, “My brother’s the co-pilot. He’s really good at it. He’s almost good enough to be the pilot!”

Liam shuffled his feet awkwardly, then nodded at Max, “Yes, well…. See you at the hotel.”

“You will?” Max’s head whipped around in surprise. Liam had never expressed an interest in seeing him outside of work before.

“Well, he was a little snippy,” Riley observed as Liam disappeared down the sky bridge.

“But did he seem….I don’t know…interested in-“ a flush crawled up his neck and then flared across his face, “Never mind. Of course not.”

Riley’s brow furrowed. “Interested in what?”

“Nothing. Let’s just get this cabin cleaned up so we can go.”

***

Riley awoke the next morning to sheets of snow pouring from the sky, blanketing the city in white as far as she could see from her hotel window. Which wasn’t that far. The snow was coming down too fast and too thick for her to see past the parking lot.

“Shit!” She aggressively pulled the curtains closed and dove back under the covers.

***

“So, what have you two been up to all day?” Liam asked as the four-member flight crew sat down for dinner in the hotel restaurant.

“Well, I slept in, then I called my mom to let her know I wouldn’t be making it home today and probably not tomorrow either. Then I drown my sorrows in a steaming hot bubble bath.” Riley responded as she pulled the menu over to her.

“Yeah, but then we saw a movie,” Max reminded her. Turning to Liam, he rambled excitedly, “This hotel has a theater in it. There was popcorn and everything! And then we took a cooking class! Can you believe that? The hotel chef hosts a class here once a week, but they did an extra class today because it snowed everyone in.”

Liam smiled at Max’s enthusiasm. “That sounds like fun. Now I feel boring. I read all day. Drake, what about you?”

“What about me?” Drake was busy shoveling a complimentary roll into his mouth.

Riley laughed. “Have you not been listening to the conversation? He wants to know what you did to keep busy today, you dork.”

Drake grabbed his water glass and chugged the cold liquid down to cover the fact that he had not heard a word of the conversation since Riley stopped talking. He was still picturing her in that bubble bath. When he sat the glass down, he responded, “I did my usual morning workout. The gym here is excellent. Since I couldn’t go for a run, I hit the heavy bags and then swam a few laps.”

“How many is a few?” Max asked.

“Twenty.” Drake’s eyes flicked to Max as he answered before landing quickly back on Riley’s face searching for any clue that she was impressed, or at least interested in him.

Not that he cared. She was a coworker, and he didn’t date coworkers.

“All before lunch?” She raised an eyebrow.

He wasn’t sure if she found his morning activities impressive or stupid. Her expression gave away nothing. “I find it hard to sit still,” he answered.

Liam scoffed, “You sit in the cockpit for hours at a time.”

“First of all, that’s different. I’m doing plenty as you well know and second of all, that’s why I need more physical movement when I’m on the ground.”

“Makes sense to me!” Max nodded emphatically as the waitress arrived with the menus.

They ordered their food and ate while making companionable chit chat. After dinner, Max suggested they continue the night across the lobby.

The hotel bar was crowded. The four coworkers quickly parted in the crowd. Drake and Liam navigated to a small table in the back and ordered drinks.

“You don’t want to ask her to dance?” Liam nodded across the room to the dance floor where Max and Riley were laughing and twirling to the music.

Drake followed Liam’s eyes and froze as he watched her sway and shimmy to the thump of heavy base. “I don’t dance.”

“I’ve seen you dance.”

“Not well.”

“So, you’re worried about embarrassing yourself in front of her?”

“What? No!” Drake reached for the tumbler of single malt scotch as the server placed it on the table in front of him and took a long pull as his mind spun with ways to shift the conversation away from his nonexistent love life. “What’s going on with you and Max?”

Liam startled so hard that bourbon sloshed over the rim of his glass. He stared at Drake in a blind panic. “What do you mean?”

“I mean….you usually pay no attention to what the flight attendants are doing when we have layovers. Yet you invited everyone to dinner tonight and you’re the one that was watching them dance. I’m pretty sure you’re not into Riley because if you were, you wouldn’t be pushing me toward her. So that leaves Max. Tell me I’m wrong.”

He lowered his glass to the table with a sigh. “It’s that obvious?”

“To me, but I’ve known you for a long time, Li.”

Liam blew out a long breath. “Shit.”

“Why don’t you just tell him you’re interested?”

“No,” Liam shook his head vigorously, “I can’t do that!”

“Why not?”

“So many reasons! Starting with the fact that I’m his boss and that’s a sexual harassment suit waiting to happen.”

“Not if he likes you back,” Drake countered.

“That’s not likely.”

Again, Drake asked, “Why not?”

Liam scoffed as he gestured toward the dance floor. “I mean, look at him! He’s fun and popular and hilariously funny. And look at those dance moves! He’s interesting and cool. What could he possibly see in me?”

“Hey, don’t sell yourself short, man.”

“I’m a stick in the mud and you know it. I was the president of my debate team. He was the lead in his school’s production of Beetle Juice.”

“How do you know- “

“Bertrand told me.”

“So, you’ve been pumping his brother for information?”

“Not the point. He’s amazing and fun and talented and I’m….me.”

“Liam, come on, man, you-“

“When I was twelve, I read law books for fun.”

“Geez, okay. Never mind. You’re definitely going to die alone.”

“Shut up,” Liam laughed, “I know you think I’m being dramatic.“

“You fly planes for a living,” Drake reminded him. “In my experience, a lot of people find that sexy.”

“Yes, well, I know your experience is quite extensive in that area but-“

“Are you calling me a man whore?”

“If the shoe fits….” Liam muttered into his drink.

“Insult me all you want, but it isn’t going to change the fact that you’ve got it bad. You should just tell him.”

“Oh, okay, Mr. I don’t like Riley.”

Fuck. Drake took another long drink. The conversation had come full circle. His eyes drifted across the room to find her again. She was still with Max.

***

Riley led Max off the dance floor and to a table as she flagged down a server for some water. “What’s up with you tonight?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, you’ve been acting squirely all night and you keep looking around like you’re searching for somebody. What’s that about?”

Max flushed, “Ah….I think I might have a thing for Liam.”

“Wait…what?” Riley shrieked, then clapped her hands over her mouth.

“I don’t know….” Max dropped his eyes to the table. “I mean, you know, he’s hot or whatever.”

“Max!” She slapped his shoulder. “Since when? And why didn’t you tell me?”

He shrugged. “Just recently I’ve started to notice him more, that’s all. He’s always being nice to me and- “

“He’s nice to everyone.”

“I know, but it’s more than that! I can’t explain it, okay? It’s just…the way he looks at me sometimes….”

“I have never seen you act shy before! You hit on that model last week!”

“Oh, him? Yeah, but that was just--”

“That man is an international star, and you had zero qualms asking for his snap.”

“I know, but- “

“And he gave it to you!”

“Sure, but Liam isn’t just a pretty face, Riley! He’s so fucking smart and serious. He’s sophisticated, and there’s just no way he’d be into a goofball like me.”

“Ah, Maxey, anyone with half a brain would be into you.”

“You’re just saying that because you’re my best friend.”

“Yes. But also because it’s true.”

“No, it’s not. I’m the general fuckup in my family. Just ask Bertrand. Or my father.”

“Max, you’re not a fuckup!” Riley admonished. “You’re just different from your brother and father, thank God! I’m sorry, I know you love him, but Bertrand is the most boring man alive, and your father is a dick, so please don’t judge yourself by his opinion of you.”

“Bert’s not boring. He just had to grow up fast. My father put a lot of pressure on him and he, unlike me, rose to the challenge. I mean, look at us. He’s a pilot and I’m a flight attendant. Do you remember what my father said when I told him I wanted to be a flight attendant?”

“Yes, but on the bright side, it was the first time he acknowledged your sexual orientation.”

Max snorted, “That’s not funny, Riley.”

“You laughed.”

He bumped her shoulder with his own with an amused shake of his head, “If your point is that my father is a homophobic, controlling, abusive asshole whose opinion should mean nothing to me or anyone else with a lick of self-respect, then point taken.” He lifted his glass to her.

She lifted hers and tapped it into his with a grin. “My work here is done. Now go over there and ask him to shoot darts or something.”

***

“All right, well, this has been fun, but I’m going up to bed now.” Liam pushed away from the table and stood up, stretching as he did so.

“You really are a stick in the mud,” Drake laughed as the server cleared their table and asked if he could get them anything else. “Yeah, an unopened bottle of what we’ve been drinking tonight.”

Liam turned to go but froze as a voice that sent heat shocking through him spoke, “Hey…Liam….you wanna…go play darts or something?”

He turned to find Max smiling at him. Trying to push down the rising panic in his throat, his eyes flicked to Drake, who just gave him an amused smile, then back to Max, who looked uncharacteristically nervous. “Uh…. sure.”

“Great!” Relief washed across Max’s features. Then he remembered himself and begrudgingly turned to include Drake in the invitation. “Would you like to join us?”

“Nah, I’m good. You two go ahead. I’ve got a bottle of top-shelf whiskey, and this hotel has steak on their room service menu. I’ll be fine.”

“Okay then, goodnight and Merry Christmas,” Liam didn’t meet Drake’s eyes as he waved bye and then followed Max to the dart boards lined up against the far wall.

Drake chuckled to himself as he took the bottle from the server and thrust a handful of bills at him. He started for the door, then thought better of it and backtracked to the bar, reaching across and grabbing a clean tumbler to take to his room with him.

He had to dodge a bunch of drunk people on his way back, causing him to veer off course until he was damn near on the other side of the room.

It wasn’t so much that he saw her as he felt her presence. His head lifted and his eyes somehow went straight to her despite the dozen or so people between him and the table she was seated at. Without making a conscious decision, his body angled in her direction, and he made his way over to her, reminding himself the whole way that he didn’t get involved with coworkers.

#cordonianroyalairlines #trr au #the royal romance #drake x mc #drake walker #liam rys #maxwell beaumont #liam x max #christmas 2023 #drake x riley #choices fic writers creations #cfwc fics of the week

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bombomangooo · 2 months

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Lord Maxwell Beaumont, the loveable screwup!!

#choices #pixelberry #choices fanart #maxwell beaumont #the royal romance #fanart #my first post on this account … and it’s choices fanart #I can’t wait to draw more stuff #I’m multi fandom btw you’re gonna see choices stuff one day and Sally face stuff the next #finally finished #bombomangoo #digital art

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aria-ashryver · 5 days

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Big fan of

"MC who loves and celebrates Maxwell exactly as he is, doesn't try to change him, matches his energy"

and its glorious sequel

"Maxwell is so comfortable being himself around her and starts to foster a sense of self-confidence and self-worth beyond being just The Funny Guy Who is Good For a Laugh but No One Takes Seriously"

#choices trr #the royal romance #maxwell beaumont

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corgi-cthuwu · 10 months

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It's just one of those days

I'm in my delulu era

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angelasscribbles · 14 days

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Behind Closed Doors Chapter 1: The Invitation

Series: Behind Closed Doors

Fandom: The Royal Romance

Pairings for this chapter: Riley x Max, Liam x Max (he hopes)

Word Count: 916

Rating: R for mature themes

Warnings for this chapter: sex is alluded to

A/N: I teased this one a long while back. Finally had some inspiration for it, so here's the first chapter!

A/N2: This story explores a bit of relationship anarchy. Here's a link if you want to learn more.

Series Premise: Six people come together in a kaleidoscope of shifting boundaries.

My other stuff: Master List.

Riley’s eyes widened as her mouth fell open. “Wait…you want me to go to the palace with you?”

“Yeah,” Max nodded, “I need a wingman, Riley, and you’re really good at it!”

“But—”

Max took in her hesitation and a startling thought occurred to him. “Oh! Is this awkward because we…because of…”

“Oh, good god, no!” Riley threw her head back and laughed. It was a full-throated belly laugh. Her hand landed on his bicep as she leaned forward to catch her breath. “I love you, Max. Truly, deeply, madly, but as friends! You know that!”

“I know.” His fingers scratched at the freshly shorn hairline along the back of his neck as a flush raced across his face. “I just wanted to be sure…after what happened last month…”

Riley stepped closer and traced a finger across his lips. “I don’t regret it if that’s what you’re worried about.”

He shivered as her touch sent a sliver of desire sparking through him and, without much conscious thought, his arm shot out to pull her in even closer. “Does that mean we can do it again sometime?”

She laughed again as she gazed up into the cobalt-blue eyes that were as familiar to her as her own emerald-green orbs. Max had been her best friend since they met in a ridiculously overpriced private kindergarten.

Neville Van Couer, big for his age and just as disagreeable then as he was now, had yanked Max’s stuffed octopus from his arms and was holding it above his head, taunting him with it.

“Please give back Sir Inks a Lot.” Max’s trembling voice betrayed his fierce determination not to cry. “My mom gave him to me.”

“Oh, are you going to cry, little crybaby? It’s just a stupid toy. I tell you what—”

“Give it back.” A firm, uncompromising voice cut in.

Neville spun to find the interloper. His malicious grin widened when his eyes fell on the slight girl with the wispy brown hair. “And what are you going to do about it if I don’t?”

Without warning or preamble, the girl moved. She darted forward so quickly that Neville had no time to process what was happening. A sharp blow to his stomach sent him pitching forward, grabbing his midsection as the toy was ripped from his grasp.

“Here.” The girl thrust the plushie out to Max.

He wiped the moisture from his tear-streaked cheeks with one hand as he reached out for his beloved Sir Inks a Lot with the other. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” She gave him a bright smile that washed all of his sadness away. “My name’s Riley. Want to play with me?”

“We can do it anytime you want.” She assured him. “It’s not like we’re not good at.”

Max smiled at the reference to their romantic and sexual past.

They had lost their virginity to each other in high school and spent six months exploring everything the other had to offer. Then Max had confessed to being bisexual and wanting to explore with other people. Primarily men. His relief when Riley had agreed to break up romantically but remain friends had been overwhelming. She was and remained the closest friend he had.

A month ago, they had gotten drunk and fallen into bed together. It had felt good, comfortable, and familiar. He loved her.

That didn’t mean he wasn’t in love with Liam and that’s why he needed her support at the upcoming Beltane Ball that the palace held every year.

His arms tightened around her. “So to be clear, you know I love you and you’re okay helping me try to get Liam’s attention?”

Her grin widened until her cheeks hurt. “Boy, yes. Did we or did we not discover relationship anarchy at the same time?”

Giddiness crashed through his chest. The idea that you could love people but still remain autonomous was brilliant enough. Add in the deconstruction of things like relationship hierarchy and mono-normativity and, well, it had been paradigm-shifting.

“Okay,” he nodded as relief washed over him. “I would never do anything to hurt you, Riley!”

“I know.” She leaned up and kissed him softly on the lips.

He melted against her for a moment, then drew back. Because he had to know for sure everything was okay between them. “Then why the hesitancy when I asked you to go to the ball with me?”

“Because I’ve never been to the palace, silly!” Her family was insanely wealthy, but not noble.

“Oh, yeah!” Max tended to forget the difference in their social status. Mainly because it didn’t matter to him. People were people and titles like Duke and Count meant nothing when it came to what kind of person someone was. After all, Neville was noble.

“Oh, yeah! I mean…what do I even wear? Do I need to know how to curtsy? What if—”

Max cut her off by jerking her back into his embrace. “Don’t worry, padawan. We have two weeks. I’ll teach you everything you need to know!”

“Great!” Riley bounced on her toes, excitement swirling through her midsection.

The palace! What an exciting adventure!

She threw her arms around him. “We could make a week of it! Go into the city. Shopping, dining, museums, the theater….”

He dipped his head toward her, his lips bare inches from hers. “Can we share a room?”

“Oh, we’re going to share a lot more than a room!” she assured him just before their lips crashed together.

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playchoicesconfessions · 6 months

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Sent by anonymous

‘I will never understand the romantic appeal of Maxwell Beaumont.’

POST/CONFESSIONS DO NOT REFLECT THE MOD’S PERSONAL OPINIONS!

#choices the royal romance #the royal romance #choices trr #trr #maxwell beaumont #playchoices #choices #choices stories you play #confessions #mod bruffle

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lizzybeth1986 · 4 months

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Maxwell and Penelope: When You Like Your Side Character So Much, You Gift Her a Shiny New LI

Series - TRR's Alternative LIs: The Romances that Didn't Happen

Previous - Liam and Olivia: When You Prefer the Side Character to the Main

A/N: There won't be a lot of exploration on Maxwell x Penelope, as there is very little the pair gets in canon. I will be largely looking at their individual characterizations and the changes and retcons made there. There will be a lot of exploration on Penelope x Ezekiel.

CW: Mentions of Penelope's actions as part of Constantine's nefarious plot against the MC in TRR1 & 2, mentions of Penelope's social anxiety.

(Screenshots from the Skylia YouTube Channel, Drake playthrough)

Compared to the other three alternative romances, Maxwell x Penelope turned out to be a bit of a one-chapter wonder. It was extremely short-lived, and the only indication that it had ever happened was one conversation between Penelope and the MC in TRR2 Ch 6, after which there is no reference to it, ever again.

In my mind there are two major factors behind this pairing being left behind, which I will get into later in this essay. However, what I find even more interesting is what the narrative and the writing team did with Penelope after they set aside that subplot. What did TRR3 give her in lieu of this alternative romance, and why, and what does it tell us about the narrative that she alone got that?

But before we can get into that, we need to look (separately) at how Maxwell and Penelope were written in TRR1, and how it culminated in the characterizations they got by TRR2.

The Evolution of (White) Side Characters

One thing that fascinates me about TRR1 is the trajectory of some of the characters, when you observe them on rereads. We often go into those rereads with a strong impression of their character type (or stereotype), before we learn to our surprise that the initial writing doesn't always match the image we carried in our heads.

In the case of some side characters, we may find traces and hints of a totally different characterization, before the team zeroed in on a trope or characteristic that may have hit the right chord with the audience. When done right, this could result in a more rounded character. But in the wrong hands, the writer may keep falling back to that one trope that made the character click, and turn them into caricatures instead.

Maxwell and Penelope are representative of different tiers of side characters, at least in TRR1 - which means that what we may expect in terms of treatment will vary as well. Even before TRR2, Maxwell was more LI-tier adjacent; until he got his LI-upgrade in TRR2, he was a frequent presence in the story and the MC's life, enough that his fans started a "Make Maxwell an LI" campaign. Penelope (along with Kiara) was a far less important character with infrequent appearances.

So of course their trajectories wouldn't be the same. It's interesting, nonetheless, to see how the writing changed over the course of the series, what parallels or complementary traits made the team consider Penelope as an alternative for Maxwell by TRR2, and why they ultimately let go of the pair after one chapter.

As we go through these stories, I think I'd like my readers to keep one thing in mind throughout - Penelope is an anomaly as a character. There are very specific things she is given that at least one other character in the same position doesn't get. Why?

I might not be able to give the answer in this specific essay, but I do think it's a question we need to keep asking ourselves as we go through her story.

Maxwell and Penelope - TRR1

A truly interesting thing about Maxwell was that he was initially not even conceptualized as a prominent character in the books! In their promotional interview for TRR2, Kara mentioned this about the creation of his character:

Excerpt from The Royal Romance: Book 2 interview.

Maxwell was initially conceptualized as a fun foil for Bertrand, the MC's tentative guide for the social season - who the writers considered too stiff and boring to stand alone as a character. Owing to his proximity to both Liam (close friend) and the MC (sponsor), it made sense that Maxwell was a part of the group scenes from the jump.

Going by the interviews, clearly Maxwell's 'fun nature' was his main USP for the writers. TRR1 does try to balance this aspect of his personality with scenes where he shows perceptiveness (such as pointing out opportunities to ally with Kiara or Penelope), but as time goes on he is viewed more and more as the 'funny guy' of the group. He also has a side-story connected with his older brother, who isn't very impressed with his work during the social season (tbh, for good reason!). This side story allows us to view him with sympathy and perhaps overlook all his failures as a sponsor (and there are many examples of this throughout TRR1. Most of the opportunities to connect with the main LIs emerge from all the times Maxwell failed to adequately guide her - teaching her the Cordonian Waltz, explaining the significance of the Regatta Race, finding the right tents, telling the MC to get swimwear for a beach party!).

Of course, because TRR2 (where the Beaumonts are her staunch allies from the jump, even before the LIs return and pledge their support shortly after) and the "Make Maxwell an LI" campaign created such a strong impression on the fandom, people remember him most as the "person who was always there for the MC".

Though he doesn't become an LI in TRR1, we do get our first ever hint of the possibility midway through the book:

(Screenshots from the HIMEME YouTube Channel)

Most of the people I know joined the TRR fandom either in the middle of Book 1, or after Books 2 or 3 - therefore, much of what I'm about to say next is down to conjecture. It is possible that either some stans did pop up in the initial chapters, resulting in the hint in Ch 8, OR that the writers tentatively teased this pairing with the dialogue at the Lythikos Ball, and were gratified enough by the response to continue teasing it. By TRR1 Chs 10 and 11, there was already plenty fanfic on Maxwell x MC. The writers were clearly encouraged enough by the response to toss a few more hints (the MC asking Maxwell about taking his shirt off at the beach, the implications of the MC telling Maxwell she is falling for someone else). Before the fandom knew it, Maxwell had already become the beneficiary of two diamond scenes focused on him in TRR1 (a flashback scene that introduced Savannah, and having fun sliding down banisters in the finale).

Penelope's trajectory in Book 1 didn't experience as meteoric a rise in popularity, but there were changes made throughout the series until she did become somewhat popular. Her trajectory could be categorised in three parts:

1. A minor noble who was very poised and proper (snobbish, if you weren't fitting in well enough)

2. Adorable ditz

3. The lady with social anxiety (TRR2)

From their entrance in TRR1 Ch 3, both Penelope and Kiara were written as extremely minor characters compared to the three frontrunners (and one female LI) of the social season. They accept early on that they don't have much of a chance in the competition, and are the first contenders (barring Hana) that the MC can get on her side. They represent the opinions and mindsets of the royal court.

Because of this, Penelope and Kiara initially appeared almost indistinguishable from each other. The only thing that seems to set them apart is perhaps the introduction Olivia gives at the Masquerade, pointing to Penelope's lineage and Kiara's linguistic skills and diplomatic pedigree. She was the titled one, Kiara was the "smart" one.

(Penelope's scenes from my failplay, in order:

1 & 2: Ch 3, while speaking about Olivia's connection to the Prince, and if you ask her and Kiara why they allow Olivia to call them 'harpies'

3 & 4: Ch 4, Penelope's response to the MC saying, "Penelope, hands off my man"

5 & 6: Ch 6, if you don't fall in line behind the Queen and bump against her instead

7: Ch 6, when Olivia is shocked that Liam chose the MC

8: Ch 8, reaction to Olivia kissing Liam)

Penelope's early scenes in TRR1 didn't showcase the traits she is now so well-known for. She wasn't the "adorable ditz" until the Applewood chapters; in fact her scenes in the first half often showed her as poised and very proper. At the Masquerade she calmly points out to the MC that there is no reason to be offended, when Olivia bluntly declares that no one else has a chance with Liam. She expects decorum from the MC when she cuts in during her dance with Liam, and even comments on the inappropriateness of some of Olivia's behaviours and cautions her when she gets a chance. If your MC makes mistakes in public in certain scenes, Penelope doesn't hesitate to laugh at her.

Her allyship scene in Ch 10 hinges on the MC's ability to convince Penelope of the advantages of supporting her, and rescuing the lady from a crab bite. She is extremely rude in certain options, and ends their conversation with the sentence "I'm not nice" if she isn't convinced the MC is worth supporting. In fact, she is allowed to call the MC a commoner wench in a certain dialogue option!

(Screenshots from my failplay. The top half shows a response to one of the MC's dialogues (she is merely sad if you choose the second one). The second is the end of the conversation when the MC asks for her support)

In a failplay especially, she can be very, very mean-spirited, which is truly ironic given her later characterization as someone who is herself uncomfortable in court and makes more than her fair share of silly mistakes. Fortunately for most of the players, the more "positive" version of the scene sounds a bit more like she's scared and uncomfortable and not equipped to handle the rigors of court. Which makes the "adorable ditz" direction that PB takes, post Regatta, a bit more believable.

Once Penelope is no longer a contender, both she and Kiara recede to the background. You don't see much of her in Applewood and Ramsford, but the little you do see primes us to view her as "sweet and silly" with a bit of a poodle obsession. Two very good examples of this is the "cheating scene" at the pie competition (TRR1 Ch12) and the aftermath of the Beaumont Bash (Ch 16). At the pie competition, Olivia and the MC can team up to distract Penelope so they trick the rival team into adding salt in their pie instead of sugar, by getting her to talk more about her poodle obsession. At the end of the Beaumont Bash, she is shown exchanging drunken chatter with a horse. The book also makes her preoccupation with poodles way more obvious, where before it was brought up only once at the Masquerade Ball.

Discrepancies between portrayals in the first book vs the latter ones is par the course for TRR. Every character has those in some way or form. Maxwell's story in TRR1 and 2 at least could make sense with enough headcanons to fill in the gaps (for why he was inefficient in his support of the MC, for why his relationship with Drake was so fraught) and his characterization is a little bit more consistent. But Penelope's, on closer observation, is a complete mess and her story doesn't make any sense when put together.

Maxwell and Penelope - TRR2

Compared to the other three pairings, Maxwell x Penelope doesn't go beyond a single chapter.

(Screenshots from Skylia's YouTube channel)

This solitary hint pops up in TRR2 Ch 6, right after the Big Clue about Penelope's social anxiety. We're given the usual options one gets for alternative LIs - a "matchmaking" one, a gently discouraging one and an insulting one, the last two of which could be read as jealousy from the MC's end. In fact, the MC's third dialogue option in this scene is so mean spirited that Hana is required to soften the blow!

There's something interesting about the matchmaking response for this scene, and I think it says plenty about the writers and the lasting impression of these characters they wanted us to have.

"You're both a bit silly...but in a way that works." It's a reading of Maxwell and Penelope that leans very strongly into their potential as comic relief, that views the two characters as alike. Both "cute", both "silly", both there to give the characters (and readers) the occasional laugh.

Is this completely accurate to their characterizations in TRR1? Probably not. But it's clearly what the writers imagined would work well for those characters.

Interestingly, TRR2 is also where the team seems to experiment more with these two characters, and finds the characterizations they think would land with the audience. Maxwell's changes are related more to the belated buildup the narrative was giving him to be an LI, and most of Penelope's was related to her role in the plot against the MC. Maxwell is given more heroic traits (eg. the Savannah storyline and his involvement in the investigation) to beef up his story a bit, and plenty of hints are scattered specifically to tease a romantic route with the MC for more than half the book. The narrative also leans far more into his position as comic relief than TRR1 does, making it his most identifiable trait.

There are tiny nods to his "perceptiveness" (Liam mentions it twice in TRR2), but he does a lot of things that you wouldn't see a TRR1 Maxwell do, like tossing a bruschetta at a foreign dignitary or playing with food to get the forgiveness of his friend (btw the Drake Maxwell friendship reads very differently from the first book; they're remarkably chilly in their vibes towards each other initially. Of course, one could headcanon what caused a rift, but that's still us doing the work instead of the writers!!).

Because so much time has to be spent bringing Maxwell's romantic route up to speed with the rest, the progress of the relationship is different from the other three and his romantic scenes cost less (until TRR3 Ch 10, his first 30 diamond scene). Much of this is par for the course for an LI who has entered the game late. In addition, the narrative also tries in TRR2 and 3 to balance his role as the MC's sponsor with his new role as LI, and it doesn't always land (eg. his excitement for Liam's proposal to the MC two chapters after becoming an LI, or his weirdly impersonal reaction in the TRR3 Ch 11 Armory diamond scene in his playthrough, in response to Madeleine mocking Liam for the MC favouring Maxwell). In part this is a result of laziness from PB's end, and in part it's because navigating Maxwell's new role itself may have been a tricky business.

Penelope's TRR2 trajectory, in contrast, is the textbook definition for "throw spaghetti against the wall and see what sticks". Hints of her involvement in the plot don't even show up until Ch 6, just one chapter prior to the reveal. The reasoning given for Penelope's actions in TRR1 - social anxiety - also directly contradicts what is shown of her during the timeline when she was supposed to have been involved in the plot. TRR1 Ch 14 and the Coronation at the finale shows her acting calm, collected and enjoying herself. A lot of Penelope's actions in TRR1 and 2 - esp at the Coronation and in Fydelia - cast an extremely poor light on her when you take into account that she knew the MC was innocent, and that she'd played a part in framing her. From the way the reveal of her condition was done, and the way we're expected to brush her wrongdoing aside immediately, it's clear that Penelope's "social anxiety" was more about tossing in a last-minute Hail Mary to excuse her actions, rather than any real interest in exploring the subject.

Given the sloppy execution of this reveal, it is entirely possible that Madeleine could have been the "lady" in initial drafts (the strongest evidence of this is TRR2 Ch 1's "constitutional clause", which is never referenced again once Madeleine is no longer a suspect), and they made a switch in the nth hour.

It is also possible that writers in the team liked Penelope enough that they wanted readers to still like her after she'd betrayed their MCs. She hasn't been referenced or mentioned in any team interviews, but the writing speaks for itself. No matter what she's done, the narrative insists the MC center her, sympathize with her, and coddle her. I will speak more at length on how in the TRR3 section.

Why did Maxwell x Penelope Not Take Off?

(The first three screenshots are from the Abhirio YouTube Channel, and the rest are from the Radiance Guardians YouTube Channel)

Unlike in the case of the other pairings, not a lot was said in the fandom about this pair either way, even among Maxwell stans. You did have the occasional "hands off my man!" post from a Maxwell shipper, but not to a great extent. At this point many of them were still unsure whether a Maxwell route would be finalized, and even kept Liam as a standby in case all that teasing from the team came to nothing.

Again, most of the theories for why this pairing had just one scene are mere conjecture, since there isn't much evidence overall. But looking at the placement of this scene and what happens before and after it, I can think of two possible reasons why it was nipped in the bud:

1. Maxwell being a late-in-the-game LI could have made balancing an actual romance route and interactions with an alternative love interest tricky in the long run. As it is, his writing was subject to gaffes and mistakes in TRR3 even without this added storyline. It's possible they decided to just ensure that they got Maxwell to the point where he could have his own 30-diamond love scene (which happened in TRR3 Ch 9 btw (half a book after Drake and Hana got their first 30-diamond scenes), and not focus on anything else.

2. This teaser scene came up in Ch 6. Ch 7 is when Penelope is revealed to have tricked Tariq into coming to the MC's room, and paid the photographer to take intimate photos of her. Now to be fair, the narrative does insist she be sympathized with rather than judged. But I do think a subplot like that would automatically make her an unpopular candidate for any LI, much less one who hasn't even been clearly established as an LI yet! Having Maxwell fall for a woman who did the MC dirty wouldn't reflect very well on him, social anxiety or no. In fact, in Ch 8, Maxwell's reaction to the news is the strongest - he calls Penelope "a few dogs short of a pack", "downright diabolical" and even suspects she was lying about having poodles.

3. It is just as likely that Maxwell x Penelope was never a serious consideration for the writers in the first place. Possibly, Penelope's scene here was simply another hint in a rising pile that teased a Maxwell romance route. Players often do get an added pleasure from watching their MCs mouth a catty dialogue or two to a romantic rival, so this scene may have been more for the benefit of a Maxwell stan who wanted to "fight for her man" rather than an actual possibility if he wasn't getting picked.

Whatever their reasons, Maxwell and Penelope's chances as a couple ended pretty much in the same chapter that it began. It didn't create much of an impact, and no one really seemed to notice this pairing, or the lack of it. It basically started and finished with a whimper.

TRR3 and Beyond - Penelope and Ezekiel (ft. A Flanderized Maxwell)

Penelope is an anomaly among the side characters (and even among certain mains!) in both series'. She is the only person seriously involved in the plot against the MC, who needs massive coddling to even answer our questions about her betrayal (if not, Hana has to take over for you). She is the only lady-of-the-court who can refuse to attend your wedding. She is the only lady-of-the-court who can choose to travel with the entourage to another duchy, despite not being part of the Unity Tour. She is the only one among the three former ladies-in-waiting who can openly complain about Madeleine's bullying, and expect protection against her from the group. Until TRH2, Penelope was the only side character for whom massive divergences in the narrative would be made as well, to accommodate her comfort and mental health (More on that in this essay).

She is also the only alternative LI to be "rewarded" with a brand new character, crafted specially for her.

Until TRR3 Ch 7, the fandom didn't even know Kiara had an older brother. Even though the person we know best in Castelserraillan is Kiara, we actually spend less than a minute with her, and far more time with Ezekiel Theron. There is an entire diamond scene that's about pampering and complimenting him, making him comfortable around us, getting him to open to us - even though his sister was the one injured at Homecoming Ball. And of course, the entire reason for Penelope to even be present at Kiara's estate is so that she and Zeke can be paired up by default! Even at the Food and Art Festival, Kiara's only real default dialogue apart from winning over her mother (or not), is about moving Penelope and Ezekiel's romance along.

Both Penelope and Ezekiel join the Unity Tour only by option, so the narrative puts in a great deal of effort to get the romance going (by having Penelope only stop at Kiara's estate by default) and allowing the two to still have a fledgling courtship going on if they weren't together at the Unity Tour (Penelope still gets to meet people who inspire her into dog fashion and she and Zeke still show their interest in each other, propelling the parents to discuss their match).

The only thing we know about Ezekiel, and pretty much the only thing that really matters, is that he loves animals. In a court that views Penelope's love for dogs as an oddity, Ezekiel is a character tailormade to romance her. He rarely features in scenes that don't show her (the only exception is the menagerie scene in Ch 14), he rarely has dialogue outside of his scenes with her, he doesn't even have a personality beyond what would best suit Penelope. This character exists only to romance Penelope, which is depressing esp when you consider that she is a white woman, and he is a black man - and she is clearly the only one who even matters in this relationship!

There wasn't any real reason to give Penelope a partner. "Penzekiel" doesn't really do much for the story in general, and not a lot would change if you dropped them. But the narrative deems it essential to give her a "reward", which is ironic considering what she put the MC through and how much we had to coddle her for her to even consider cooperating, either in the investigation or during the Unity Tour. Presumably this "reward" is for her "niceness" and "sweetness", which only works because the narrative completely erases her misdeeds in the social season after TRR2. She never has to remember what she did, nor does anyone in the core group remind her.

With regards to Maxwell, by TRR3 he is a full-fledged LI who gets a wedding with his MC, in certain playthroughs. Much of his playthrough focuses on trying to catch up with the other 3 LIs - you can sleep with them if they're your fiancé/ée, but you have to wait until Ch 10 to sleep with Maxwell. The narrative mentions him taking up "responsibilities" for House Beaumont in lieu of Bertrand, but without any real scenes that show us what he is doing, nor any tangible results (we will not talk about Maxwell's book here!).

He doesn't have any alternative romances. In fact even his romantic playthrough is kinda bare - his only individual scene is the Armoury scene which isn't even about him, and there were glitches that were very noticable particularly in his and Hana's playthroughs. There are no references at all to the alternative romance Maxwell was given in TRR2; it's almost as if that option had never existed.

Penelope being a romantic option for Maxwell doesn't stop the two from having friendly exchanges in TRR3 though. Maxwell was not only allowed - but expected - to treat Penelope with sympathy and respect.

(First set of screenshots is mine, the second is from Skylia's YouTube Channel)

Not only Maxwell, even Drake - who hates most nobles - is shown being extremely protective of Penelope in both TRR3 (promising Penelope to protect her against Madeleine) and TRH3 (showing anger at Guy's blackmail of Penelope and her family). The narrative is very clear that we are expected to make Penelope feel safe, even if she has never made us feel anything but unsafe.

This relationship - and the level of coddling that Penelope has always received from TRR2 onwards - continues into TRH, where she and her beau Ezekiel are shown together, there are occasional updates on their relationship when either one appears in a chapter, and where they eventually marry and start a family. An interesting pattern begins to emerge once we get into TRH.

(Screenshots from Skylia and HIMEME's YouTube Channel)

As the only courtly lady in a relationship in TRH, Penelope gets a nicer, cleaner, more luxurious and more drama-free parallel to the MC's romantic journey. Like the MC, she finds a suitor who falls for her and wants to be with her. Like the LI, he eventually stages a grand proposal for her (TRH2 Ch 18), after they have spent a significant amount of time together. Like the MC, she has a widely publicized wedding (though tbh Penelope's was better customised to her tastes, and as the MC we put even more work into her wedding than we ever did our own!! (we were both her bridesmaid and her officiant, our daughter is the flower girl, we give her the perfect bachelorette, we rescue her from her asshole ex-husband, we help her select lingerie!!!)). And when the MC announces her second pregnancy, Penelope announces to us her first. Penelope's storyline has all the romantic trappings that the MC had with her LI, but without the tension, the conspiracies, the attacks and kidnappings, or the constant fear that someone is out to get her and her family.

Penelope is basically treated like MC-lite. Quite the upgrade for a mere side character who actually did us dirty at one point.

Does Maxwell - her potential LI for all of one chapter - suffer as a result of this upgrade? Apart from the Flanderization, I would say no, he actually didn't.

He doesn't get the lavish Drake treatment, true, but he is centered in the issues that bother him. The MC, by default, has always been expected to defend him to Bertrand from TRR1 onwards, and often argues that Maxwell tried as hard as he could to help her, even when he didn't. Her sympathy towards him whenever Bertrand justifiably berates him for his negligence is by default too. And while he improves in TRR2 and (somewhat) 3, in TRH3 the entire group is thrown into this position again. Even though Maxwell exaggerates events in his friends' lives to an insulting degree in his book and the subsequent movie adaptation, the group often brushes their discomfort aside and supports him instead. And even though his lies in said book about Bertrand (TRH2 Ch 11) indirectly cause the latter to give up his lands to their father (resulting in Bartie Sr's attempt to usurp the throne), the MC spends all of the next book comforting him, involving him in her investigations, and patting his hand sympathetically while he moans about the father who killed the former queen of the country, all while ignoring the son of the woman Bartie Sr. killed, and raging against the elder brother who is secretly supporting them (even after the reveal, the group judges Bertrand heavily and even suspects him of being part of Via Imperii in TRF). Very little is said - either by Maxwell himself or by anyone else - about his role in facilitating this awful takeover.

All in all, Maxwell may have not gotten an alternative LI at the end of the day, and his overall LI path was pretty messy - but there was some thought and consideration put into his writing. The focus on Penelope and her new romance never actually harmed Maxwell.

Fandom

As I've mentioned before, Maxwell wasn't an LI in the beginning, but rose to LI status in Book 2. While the writers did make claims once in their TRF finale livestream that they had planned to make him an LI all along, I find that a bit hard to believe. From the way the hints were dropped it's way more possible that this was a development that came up once enough people in the fandom found him attractive enough to be LI material.

As the Make Maxwell an LI campaign grew in popularity, the fandom often held a rosy view of him, calling him "the only valid white guy", celebrating his queerness (as they should! It was hinted that he was pansexual in TRR2 Ch 18), showered him with sympathy and called Bertrand names for berating him. None of the nitpicking that certain other LIs would get for not supporting her properly, ever touched Maxwell. Nor did the fandom - who did criticize him quite a bit for his trashy book, and protested his Flanderization - ever view him with anything besides sympathy when he struggled to believe his father was evil, after he'd encouraged his brother to make said father the head of Beaumont House. This was the same fandom that didn't hesitate to find the most nonsensical excuses to trash Liam.

The Maxwell-Penelope scene was a fun way for some Maxwell stans to allow their MCs to act a bit possessive of him, and they were very critical of Penelope's betrayal later. But the overall response to Penelope's storyline was overwhelmingly positive. Many related to what she said about suffering from social anxiety, and especially to the lines about her emotional support poodles (ironically in another book, Sloane Washington got scant sympathy or respect despite clear indicators that she suffered from social anxiety too), and were quick to forgive.

(I must confess I was among this portion of the fandom too, but with the belief that she would address it more strongly herself in TRR3)

Fandom didn't mind buying into the canon myths that Penelope was a "sweet, naive" girl, and part of this is understandable because not many got to see what she was like in the failplay. So it was easier to presume that she would still take a little responsibility and wholeheartedly regret her actions, without seeing the failplay scenes where she is shown expecting to be treated like royalty by the woman she screwed over. Penelope and Ezekiel were viewed by most as a cute pair, with some (justifiably) liking this interracial match initially. Many readers who were fond of Penelope even criticized Kiara for being "mean" to her or "joining in Madeleine's bullying of her", when Kiara's behaviour was clearly more protective than harmful.

There was a slight rise in a general negative attitude towards Penelope in TRH3, when she could prioritise her wedding over the looming terror of the MC's child being taken away from her, and only speak up when the MC encouraged her at the altar. But very often people who made these criticisms clubbed her and Kiara together, as if they were a single unit...as if their actions and choices throughout the series were the same. As if Kiara got the same concessions and pampering that Penelope did. In reality, the choices the two women made - and the narrative treatment the two women got - couldn't be any more different.

Individually, Maxwell's and Penelope's stories show us what happens when the writers of a story lean too much towards fandom adulation, and allow it to dictate the way their stories will go. In both cases PB found a beat that the readers liked and stuck with it, never expanding beyond that one trait and causing the two to be caricatures of themselves. In Penelope's case especially, once her anxiety story resonated, the narrative used that to encourage readers to pamper her ad nauseum, and justified her lack of genuine care for anyone but herself through constant reminders of her mental health condition.

I will repeat the question I'd asked at the beginning of this essay - What did TRR3 give her in lieu of this alternative romance, and why, and what does it tell us about the narrative that she alone got that? That's a question I hope you'll keep asking in the next two essays.

Next - Hana and Madeleine: When You Reward Your Favourite Bully with One of Her Victims

#maxwell beaumont #penelope ebrim #the royal romance #the royal heir #the royal finale #essay series: trr's alternative lis

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karahalloway · 1 month

Text

(Less Than) Noble Intentions: Chapter 18 - Diplomatica

Fandom: TRR

Pairing: Drake Walker x F!OC (Harper Gale)

Masterlist: (Less Than) Noble Intentions

Chapter Summary: Harper, Olivia and the Beaumonts arrive in Rome... but not everyone is happy to see them

Word Count: 5,300

Rating/Warnings: None (for once 🤣)

Chapter theme song:

A/N1: Lots of Italian and random cultural/historical tidbits in this... but, then again, we are in Italy, so the foreign language aspect will be a bit of a running theme through the next few chapters (sorry...not sorry - I actually learnt some Italian in the process!)

A/N2: @aussiegurl1234, before you ask, yes, I HC that Vito bears a striking resemblance to Michele Morrone 😆

Chapter 18 - Diplomatica

"How is it hotter here than in Cordonia?" I gasp as I step out onto the jet's airstairs.

"Italy is a peninsula," Olivia says from behind me, slotting on a pair of Versace cat-eye shades. "It is more exposed to the anti-cyclones that blow up from the Sahara."

My mouth drops as I make my way down onto the steaming tarmac. "This heatwave... is coming from Africa?"

No wonder it feels like the inside of a furnace!

"It certainly isn't coming from the Arctic!" bemoans Bertrand as he shields his face from the intensity of the rays with an upraised hand. "Though what a welcome change that would be!"

"Brr...!" objects Maxwell with a shiver. "No thank you! I've had my yearly fill of sub-zero temps at Olivia's!"

"You're welcome," comes the snippy response as the Duchess of Lythikos strides past us.

"That said, turning the mercury down a few notches wouldn't hurt..." I remark, squinting accusatorily up at the beating sun.

"The summer heatwaves have been growing longer and more intense over recent years," Olivia advises from up front, "leading to consequent effects on food and water security, power generation, infrastructure, not to mention the added burden on the healthcare system across Europe. It is one of the items on the agenda for Christian's roundtable with the Italian Prime Minister tomorrow."

I frown as I arrive at the passenger-side door of the first in a trio of waiting Porsche Macan GTS's. "I thought this was supposed to be an engagement tour..."

"It is," she confirms as a black-suited Italian sporting close-cropped hair and aviators opens the door for her. "But any foreign visit involving a high-ranking head of state is — by its nature — a diplomatic event as well."

"I guess that makes sense," I concede, sliding into the relative reprieve offered by the SUV's A/C system. "Though you said Christian is meeting with the Prime Minister tomorrow... I thought that was supposed to be today. Did something change?"

"No," derides Bertrand as he settles in next to me. "Today, the King is partaking in a meet-and-greet with the Italian President, followed by a private audience with the Pope while the future Queen is fitted for her wedding trousseau, capped off by dinner and a performance of Tosca at the Teatro dell'Opera in the evening. While tomorrow we have been invited to brunch at the Cordonian Consulate, after which the King has a round-table discussion with the Prime Minister, and day will be closed out by a state gala."

"Oh," I mutter sheepishly. "So, the Prime Minister isn't the same as the President...?"

"The Prime Minister is the head of government, while the President is the head of state," the elder Beaumont instructs as Maxwell squishes himself into the backseat on the other side of me. "The roles are quite distinct."

"Of course they are..." I huff under my breath.

Seems like in addition to Olivia's list of influential Cordonian nobles, I will also need to memorise a textbook on European constitutional history...

Though, now I am doubly glad of the business-like, but nevertheless stylish pale pink, high-necked pencil dress that Bertrand foisted on me this morning — it definitely would not have been great to show up underdressed to such a high-level meeting!

"But we must hurry!" the elder Beaumont proclaims. "We are due at the Presidential Palace in just under an hour, and we still need to fight our way through the notoriously infernal Roman traffic!"

"Not to worry," Olivia assures us with a sly smirk from the front passenger seat. "Vito here knows all the shortcuts."

"That sounds ominous..." I mutter, reaching for the seatbelt on instinct.

"I prefer 'expeditious'," she counters, turning to Vito, who has now taken up position behind the wheel. "Andiamo."

"Certamente, Duchessa," he nods, throwing the car forward with a violent depression of the gas pedal.

The sudden acceleration yanks an inadvertent gasp from my lips as I'm thrown back in my seat... just like on that afternoon in Ramsford when Drake pulled the same stunt on the Beaumonts' driveway.

I feel my throat tighten as I glance inadvertently out the window. God, I hope he's okay...

I know in the back of my mind that I'm probably making myself anxious for no reason. Drake is an adult, perfectly capable of taking care of himself... including in close-quarters situations. He's demonstrated that to me plenty of times.

Yet, I still can't help but worry about him. Especially when he's off in a foreign country (all by himself for all I know...), having left with basically no good-bye, and with definitely no assurance of when he expects to get back.

And while I know that he is doing this for me — so we can collar Tariq and extract whatever information he has in relation to the plot to influence the outcome of the social season... and to answer for what he did to me in Applewood — the wait is killing me. I have no idea where he is, what he is doing, and whether he even has his phone turned on, given the high-stakes nature of his self-appointed task.

Which is why I have held off trying to reach out to him (...even though the baser, needier part of me is itching to do exactly that), as I don't want to be the one to interrupt a crucial moment by setting his phone off with an ill-timed call or text, especially considering the three-hour time difference...

I heave a breath.

I just have to trust him. Like he asked me to at every turn of this increasingly bumpy road that we've been travelling since I left New York. And hope that we are finally on our way out of the woods.

Exiting the boundaries of the airport, Vito navigates the Porsche onto a highway where we are able to pick up some speed. Olivia uses the opportunity to open up her phone, throwing some questions in Italian to her associate every so often as we cruise along. Bertrand is similarly occupied, while Maxwell has slipped on some Bose headphones and is bobbing away to the beat.

Which leaves me to stare somewhat aimlessly out the window, watching the scenery roll by in a bid to keep myself distracted.

But the reprieve ends up being somewhat of a welcome one. The various warehouses and road-side auto lots surrounding the airport quickly give way to a tree-lined thoroughfare, and I find myself basking in the calming effects of the greenery, not having expected to encounter such a bucolic sight on the road to a major urban centre.

Eventually, though, the vegetation gives way to the crumbling walls of some kind of expansive estate that we end up following for a good few miles until the asphalt road changes over to cobblestones and we pass in front the gates of a red-bricked stone fortress that looks like it's been plucked straight from the set of Game of Thrones.

"Wow..." I can't help but breathe as I take in the sight of the towering structure simmering under the light of the mid-morning sun.

"Le mura aureliane," advises Vito from up front, catching my awed expression through the rear-view mirror. "Costruita dall'imperatore Aureliano per difendere Roma dai barbari."

I nod distractedly, craning my neck as we turn a corner to follow the path of the ancient structure that is somehow still standing despite the clear ravages of time and weather.

Nothing lasts like this anymore...

Making another turn, we pass beneath an arched portion of the wall, and the road before us opens up into a leafy boulevard that takes us into the city proper. And from there, it's one jaw-dropping piece of architecture after another jostling for space between more modern buildings and seemingly never-ending rows of trees.

"I didn't expect Rome to be so green..." I admit to no one in particular as I eye up the unusual-looking shrubs.

"You can thank the Ancient Romans," supplies Bertrand without glancing up from his phone. "They planted the now-iconic stone pines in scores along the major roadways in part to serve as ornamentation, and in part to provide a steady supply of pine nuts, which are an essential ingredient in many dishes, including pesto and various pies and tarts."

"It certainly was worth the effort," I agree, watching the evergreens drift past on either side of us.

Though, as Bertrand predicted, the closer we get to the centre of the ancient capital, the increasingly chaotic the traffic becomes, with cars, buses and mopeds all vying for space on the roads, requiring Vito to make recourse to his own horn as well as various offensive gestures in order to narrowly avoid a slew of accidents... and I suddenly have a slightly better appreciation for why Drake drives the way he does. Because based on my experiences first in France and now in Italy, it appears that on the Mediterranean, might equals right when it comes to priority on the road, and unless you're forceful, you ain't getting nowhere.

Managing to finally extricate ourselves from the constraints of a complicated intersection, we end up on a quieter road running parallel to a long patch of bunkered-looking grass on our left.

"What's that?" I ask, tapping Vito on his shoulder.

"Il Circo Massimo," he advises.

My eyes widen. "That's the Circus Maximus?"

"Sì," he nods. "L'antico stadio romano costruito per le corse dei carri."

"Unbelievable..." I murmur, slumping back into my seat in awe.

There is nothing comparable back home — even the oldest still-extant pre-Columbian structures date to only the first millennia A.D. Whereas here we are, casually cruising past a seminal piece of history that is still embedded into the fabric of the city nearly three thousand years after its construction. And we haven't even seen the Colosseum, or the Forum yet!

Rome really is the Eternal City...

Leaving the green fields of the Circus behind us, we enter a more urban-looking environment as we start to climb a hill. The white- and sand-coloured buildings cluster closer together, and the general architecture becomes more uniformly Baroque, until we arrive in a large plaza dominated by a massive, Neo-Classical structure that towers over everything else.

"Il Vittoriano," Vito offers without prompting.

"Is that where we're having brunch with the President?" I ask, slack-mouthed as I stare up at the imposing building.

It certainly looks impressive enough to house the head of a country!

"Of course not!" admonishes Bertrand. "The Vittoriano is a symbolic collection of monuments built to commemorate the rule of King Victor Emmanuel II and the unification of Italy. The President resides at the Quirinal Palace, which is located on a wholly different Roman hill!"

"Oh," I mutter sheepishly.

"Like she is going to know the difference," scoffs Oliva from the front. "They don't even teach The Art of War in her schools... How can you expect her to know anything about Italian history?"

"Italian history is foundational history!" insists Bertrand. "The Romans were instrumental in shaping not just the course of European, but Northern African and Middle Eastern events for millennia! How can they neglect to teach American children about this?"

"Because the focus is on US history," I tell them wearily as Vito navigates us to the other side of the square.

"Surely that is an afternoon's worth of lessons at most?" the elder Beaumont queries sceptically. "Your country was only founded in the conventional sense of the word in the mid-1600s..."

"Most Americans haven't been to Europe," I remind him, watching the rows of buildings flick past on either side of us as we begin the ascent up another hill. "They don't necessarily have a basis of comparison."

"Sounds like your curriculum is somewhat lacking in scope, then..." he surmises with pursed lips.

"Yeah, well..." I retort dryly, "I don't write the textbooks. Though, speaking of education, is there any chance for some sightseeing? It would be a shame to spend two days here and not actually see anything..."

"While I wholeheartedly approve of the sentiment," Bertrand replies, "I am afraid that you will have to make do with the cultural experiences offered by the various host venues on the official itinerary. Which — I admit — are no Pantheon, or Sistine Chapel, but are impressive and important cultural artefacts, nevertheless. The Quirinal Palace, for instance, so named for the Quirinal Hill on which it sits, is actually the sixth largest palace in the world and has served as the primary residence of such notable figures as—"

I let out a low exhale as Bertrand launches into a full-blown historical recital. And while the details are definitely interesting, I didn't come all this way to listen to a one-man rendition of a Roman guidebook.

Which makes me all the more determined to find some kind of opportunity to slip away from the official tour — even if it's just for an hour to toss a coin into the Trevi Fountain — so that I can experience something of the magic that this breathtaking city has to offer.

When, I have no idea, given the busyness of our schedule, but I managed to orchestrate an escape plan to see the capital back in Cordonia, so I'm confident I'll be able to pull something similar... albeit without Drake's help this time. But despite the set-backs, I'm not about to miss out on this kind of once-in-a-lifetime experience...

With my intention firmly set, the car rounds an uphill corner, and we are suddenly on the edge of yet another expansive plaza secured by a rim of strategically placed concrete planters and a pair of police cars.

Vito pulls to a stop and slides the window down to exchange a few quick words with the officer who has come to greet us.

"Passports," instructs Olivia, reaching into her purse.

Opening up the white, Medusa emblazoned Versace clutch sitting on my lap — which I am sure cost more than what I would've ever made in a month working as a waitress back home, but which Bertrand had insisted on as a 'necessary' Italian-themed accessory — I pull out my shiny, new Cordonian passport and pass it to the front.

Maxwell and Bertrand do the same, and there is a couple of minutes of tense silence while the stern-looking officer inspects each document to verify our identities, while another policeman does a circuit 'round the car with a convex safety mirror.

Finally, the policeman hands the passports back with a curt nod, and waves us through.

"Were they not expecting us?" I query as I slot my credentials away again.

"They were," Olivia advises. "But we are arriving separately from the royal delegation, so the State Police are obligated to run a security check."

"Why?"

The Duchess of Lythikos scoffs back at me. "To ensure that we are not terrorists trying to kill the President with a car bomb... Or did that part go over your head?"

"No..." I hit back sarcastically. "I meant why are we arriving separately?"

She looks back at me with an arched brow. "Would you have preferred to deal with the press?"

"I... No," I admit.

She turns back to the front with a smirk. "Didn't think so."

Vito pulls the car to a stop in front of a small courtyard decked out with a red carpet and intertwined streamers made out in the colours of Cordonia's and Italy's flags. Allard and Schweitzer — who had been travelling in the car behind us — appear to open the doors for us.

Bertrand scoots out of the backseat first, before turning back to offer me his hand.

"Thanks," I say with a sincere smile, grasping his fingers to help pull myself up.

"Always my pleasure," he replies with a genuine smile.

Smoothing my skirt, I gaze up at the somewhat understated-looking entranceway, suddenly nervous about the prospect of acting as a newly-minted ambassador of Cordonia. I mean... three months ago, I was bussing tables at a dive bar for less than minimum wage, and now here I am, decked out in clothes that cost more than the rent I was paying for a fifth-storey walk-up, about to have an official meeting with a foreign country's head of state.

To say that I feel like a fraud is a massive understatement.

"What are you waiting for?" asks Olivia, breezing past me with all the confidence of a woman who's done this a hundred times before... probably because she has. "For the grass to grow?"

"I—"

"I heard the President loves chocolate bomboloni," offers Maxwell enthusiastically, linking his arm through mine to tug me down the length of the red carpet.

"What's...that?" I ask, forcing myself to swallow down the sudden dryness in my throat.

Maxwell's face collapses into an aghast look of shock. "Only the best pastry-based dessert! Second only to cronuts, of course!"

"That's definitely a high bar to hit," I admit.

"Think mini doughnuts with gooey chocolate filling, dusted with powdered sugar," he explains. "They literally melt in your mouth!"

"Except we are not here to indulge infantile cravings for sugary treats," reprimands Bertrand as we pass through the arched doorway. "We are here to partake in important discussions relating to matters of state, and t—"

"Pfft," scoffs Olivia. "Speak for yourself, Beaumont. These meetings are dull as shite. I'm here for the sweets."

I can't help but snort at the unexpected riposte... as well as the resultant sight of Bertrand's jaw hitting the parquet flooring. And I unexpectedly find myself feeling better about the whole experience. Because despite whatever nerves I may be feeling, the fact that Olivia and the Beaumonts are with me means that I am not alone in this.

Passing into the coolness of the building, we are greeted by a middle-aged woman who proceeds to lead us through a veritable rabbit warren of ante-rooms and corridors before we finally arrive in an expansive room dominated by a pair of jaw-dropping crystal chandeliers suspended from a vaulted, hand-painted ceiling.

"La Salle Bronzino," informs our guide, indicating that we should step through.

"Wow..." I breathe, trying to take in the opulence with as much composure as I can.

A slew of camera shutters click to life upon our arrival.

Jerking my gaze down from the delicate, celestial fresco above me, I spot the handful of photographers aiming their lenses at me.

I stifle a groan as I plaster a demure smile onto my face. "I thought you said there wouldn't be any reporters."

"This is an official state visit," Bertrand hisses out of the corner of his mouth. "Of course, there will be reporters!

"Just not as many as there would have been outside earlier," Olivia assures me.

My shoulders slump in acquiescence. "Take the wins you can get, I guess..."

"Ah, you made it!" exclaims Christian, striding up to us with a jovial grin. "Traffic wasn't too terrible, I hope?"

"Nothing Vito couldn't handle," Olivia assures him, dipping into a chaste curtesy as the photographers snap eagerly away.

Christian turns to me with a good-natured chuckle. "And Lady Harper... First impressions haven't put you off, have they?"

"No," I assure him, bobbing down politely as well, knowing that everyone in the room now has their eyes on us. "The exact opposite, actually."

"Excellent," he beams, holding my gaze for a second longer than he did with Olivia. "I have to admit that I have a bit of a soft spot for Rome, myself."

"It really is a—"

"Darling," interjects Madeleine with a steely smile, appearing at her fiancé's shoulder. "You really should focus your attentions on the President. He has been gracious enough to open up his home for us, after all..."

Christian's nostrils flare with the briefest flash of irritation as he pulls back slightly. "Quite. Let us go make the necessary introductions."

Madeleine bristles. "That is not what I—"

Deftly ignoring her, Christian extends his arm decisively towards an elderly man wearing a sombre suit and gold-rimmed glasses. "Shall we?"

"I guess so?" I concede, already feeling myself being steered past the silently fuming countess.

"Now remember," Bertrand mutters next to me as Christian leads us down the length of the room. "In the context of a formal conversation, it is always lei — never tu — when addressing your counterpart, so for the love of all that is holy, please do not—"

"Singor Presidente," proclaims Christian as he pulls to a stop. "Permettetemi di presentarvi altri membri della nostra delegazione."

The President raises his head dutifully. "Certamente."

"Questo è Singor Bertrand Beaumont, duca di Ramsford, e suo fratello, Maxwell."

The Beaumonts bow their heads dutifully.

"Beaumont..." the President frowns. "Sai, mi suona familiare. Sei parente di Signor Bartholemy, per caso?"

"Sì," Bertrand confirms. "Egli è nostro padre."

The President is nodding in recollection. "Sì... sì... Ha accompagnato il re precedente in molte occasioni. Sei molto simile a lui."

"Sì, la somiglianza di famiglia è forte," Bertrand acknowledges.

"E questa è Singorina Olivia Nevrakis, duchessa di Lythikos, un mio carissimo amico, e fedele sostenitrice del famiglia Rys."

Olivia holds out her hand. "E' un piacere conoscerla, Signore Presidente."

The President drops a chaste kiss on the back of her hand. "Il piacere è tutto mio."

"E finalmente," concludes Christian, "questa è Singorina Harper, la nuova duchessa di Valtoria."

The President's brows arc inquisitively. "Singorina Harper... You are... American? No?"

"Sì," I affirm as I offer my hand out. "Ma ho praticato mio Italiano..."

The President's mouth cracks into a genuine smile. "And you are doing very well, Singorina! Tell me, have you visited la città eterna before?"

"No, this is my first time," I admit, also switching to English, now that the formalities are over and done with. "But even the ride from the airport was utterly magical! It's like stepping into history!"

"Sì," the President affirms with a grin. "Us Romans are unspeakably lucky to be able to call such a beautiful city our home. It is a place of many treasures."

"What is your favourite part of the city?" I ask.

The President blinks in surprise at the unexpected intimacy of the request. "That is a difficult question... But if I am forced to choose... it would have to be this little forno next to la Fontana di Trevi which makes a very unique — and very delicious — pistachio croissant. It is not for every person, but if you have a spirit of adventure, then I suggest you try it."

"Thank you," I say with a sincere smile, filing the suggestion away. "I definitely will!"

"I cannot say that I have had the pleasure of sampling this treat, either," Christian admits, with a knowing glance down at me. "But Lady Harper has excellent taste in pastries — she was actually kind enough to introduce us to an American delicacy called a cronut. It was a big hit all around."

"A cronut?" queries the President. "I cannot say I am familiar..."

"Don't worry," Maxwell assures him with a conspiratorial grin. "We'll bring you one. If you'll trade us some bomboloni in exchange?"

Bertrand's already sunburnt face reddens further. "Maxwell! You cannot entreat the President t—"

"You like bomboloni, also?" interjects the President with keen interest.

"Of course!" Maxwell affirms enthusiastically. "Anyone who doesn't like them clearly has something wrong with them!"

"Sounds like you have excellent taste in pastries as well, Signore Maxwell!" chuckles the President.

The conversation continues to revolve around our shared food interests for a few more minutes, until an aide clears his throat from behind the President.

"Accettare le mie scuse," he apologises. "But I am being advised that it is time for the photographs and the speeches."

"Of course," nods Christian graciously, indicating that the President should lead the way to the front of the room where a small podium has been set up.

As the two men peel away from the group, I cast my eyes 'round the space and spot Hana standing by one of the large windows. Giving her a wave, I use the brief break in the proceedings to make my way over to her.

"So, what's the view like from this side of the room?" I ask by way of greeting.

"Quieter than your side," she admits wryly. "You certainly seemed to be having an engaging conversation with the President!"

"We discovered a shared love for sugary treats," I admit. "You should've joined us — you could've bragged about that baking championship that you won."

"It's alright," she demurs with a blush. "It's actually been nice to take a moment to step away from the crowd."

"Oh?" I ask, laying a concerned hand on her arm. "Is something wrong?"

She heaves a breath, as if debating whether to tell me. Finally, she says, "I have been fending off suitors."

My brow shoots skywards. "How many proposals have you had?"

"Since I arrived...? Probably twelve..."

My eyes bulge. "Twelve! That's like two a day!"

"Yes," she concedes with a weary exhale. "Lady Madeleine has been extremely gracious in personally introducing me to numerous eligible bachelors—"

"—but none of them are Maxwell," I surmise.

Her eyes flick up to mine before dropping back down sorrowfully. "No. But for the sake of my parents, I must entertain every available option in an honest manner."

"That definitely sounds exhausting..." I concede. "But hopefully now that we're out of the country, you can catch a bit of a break."

"I am not so sure..." she admits. "I have been advised that a number of well-connected Italians will be in attendance at the opera tonight..."

"Pfft...!" I scoff. "Just take the night off... Pretend to be sick... Run off with Maxwell to get some gelato... Actually enjoy being in Italy!"

Hana blushes. "I—"

The chime of a bell rings out across the room, interrupting our conversation.

Looking up, I see that all heads have turned dutifully towards the twin forms standing on the dais as they prepare to address the congregation.

"Vostra Altezza Reale, colleghi delegati, Signore e Signori," greets the President, "È un onore, per me, ospitare la delegazione reale di Cordonia, nostro vicino e stretto alleato per centinaia di anni. È passato troppo tempo da—"

As the speech winds on, I find myself tuning out, given that I am only able to understand every third or fourth word. But, not wanting to come across as rude by continuing my catch-up with Hana, I instead try to occupy myself by examining the two large tapestries suspended on the walls.

A round of applause draws me out of my reverie, and I join in on auto-pilot as the President hands off to Christian. Several more minutes of lilting Italian fills the room, during which time I move my attentions to the Roman-looking busts, wondering which emperors they depict.

Finally, the speeches come to a close, and I heave a sigh of relief.

"Did you understand any of that?" I ask Hana as the President presents Christian with some kind of medal, and the two men pose for photos.

"Of course," she nods. "My parents—"

"—have been giving you Italian lessons since before you could talk?" I finish dryly.

Hana's cheeks dimple. "Not quite that young, but yes. I am what they consider 'proficient'."

"Meaning, you speak it better than I speak English," I joke.

She snorts in response. "I wouldn't say that..."

"But it's true," I say with a smirk, happy to see that Hana's time back at court has not completely crushed her sense of humour.

"Ah, I've missed talking to you, Harper," she says with genuine feeling. "The last few days have felt so busy that I feel like we haven't spoken in months!"

"Yeah, tell me about it..." I agree with a huff. "In the space of a week, I've become a Cordonian citizen, been granted a duchy, gone from number five to number one on Madeleine's shit list, and—"

Hana's eyes widen. "It's not that bad, surely...!"

"It's probably worse," I admit. "And being on the front page of the Cordonian Sun — again — is probably not helping matters either..."

"Yes, I saw that article..." she commiserates with feeling. "I'm sorry that the press are treating you in that manner again."

"Hey, it's not your fault," I assure her. "But the press aren't all bad — I managed to convince Ana de Luca to help us track down the photographer who took those pictures of me and Tariq, and she actually came through yesterday."

"That's great!" she enthuses. "I have to admit that I have not had much success on my side... Madeleine does not permit her ladies-in-waiting to handle any of her private correspondence, including her mobile phones and laptop. And she has only talked to us about the upcoming events on the tour..."

"Well, it was a bit of a long-shot, anyway," I concede with a shrug. "But who knows? We might get—"

"Pardon," interrupts Kiara with a pointed cough. "But the Queen requests your presence."

I roll my eyes with a scoff. "She's not married to Christian yet..."

"But she will be soon," she reminds me pointedly. "So, it is actuellement in your interest to remain on her good side, given that you are now a duchess."

I feel the corner of my mouth scrunch into a mou of dissent, but I force myself not to pick apart the many things that are wrong with her statement. "Fine. Where is Her Majesty?"

"Bidding adieu to the President," she advises. "She has asked that in the meantime I gather the ladies who are to accompany her to the wedding boutique."

"Does she really need an entourage to go shopping?" I ask as we start making our way back to the double doors at the far end of the room.

"It is tradition for the suitors who were not picked at the end of the social season to assist the queen-to-be in the preparations for the wedding, including selecting her bridal gown and trousseau."

"Wonder how many times that's gone wrong before..." I mutter under my breath.

"It is a ritual de beaucoup d'importance," Kiara insists seriously. "The former suitors — and their families — demonstrate their public support for the union via the personal assistance they provide the bride and groom in the lead-up to the big day, as well as in the act of taking on key roles during the ceremony itself."

"Let me guess..." I grumble. "We're all going to be maids of honour, too..."

"In Cordonia, the correct term is 'witness'," she corrects. "They are the ones chosen by the couple to countersign the marriage certificate. Mais oui — it is likely that one or two of us will be called upon in such a manner."

"Great..." I sigh, arriving at the entranceway where Penelope and Olivia are already waiting. "All the things we get to look forward to..."

"Oh, Lady Harper!" squeals Penelope in excitement. "I love your dress! How do you always manage to find such super chic pieces?"

"Uhh..." I say, genuinely taken aback by her enthusiasm. "Bertrand picked this, actually..."

Olivia snorts derisively. "You mean Lord Tweedle-Dee? Please... That man has worse fashion sense than Jared Leto."

"Actually, he—"

"If you lot are quite finished with your asinine chit-chit," snaps Madeline as she strides imperiously past us, "you can pick up your feet. We are already running late for my appointment... Which took months to schedule, so don't you dare make me miss it!"

I meet Hana's gaze with a fish-eyed look. "Ever heard the term 'bridezilla' before?"

"No," she admits with a frown. "But it sounds scary..."

"Oh, trust me!" I assure her as we bring up the rear. "It is! Especially since it sounds like Madeleine is planning to take the concept to a whole 'nother level..."

The story continues in Chapter 19: Field Day

A/N: Translations for the Italian below:

At the airport: Andiamo - Let's go

Certamente, Duchessa - Certainly, Duchess

En route Lemura aureliane. Costruitadall'imperatore Aureliano per difendere Roma dai barbari. - The Aurelian Wall. It was constructed by the Emperor Aurelian to defend Rome against barbarians.

Il Circo Massimo - The Circus Maximus

Sì. L'antico stadio romano costruito per le corsedei carri. - Yes. The ancient Roman stadium constructed for chariot racing.

Il Vittoriano - This is a colloquial nickname for the Monument to Victor Emmanuel II

At the Presidential Palace Singor Presidente. Permettetemi di presentarvi altri membri della nostra delegazione. - Mr President. Allow me to introduce some additional members of our delegation.

Certamente - Certainly

Questo è Singor Bertrand Beaumont, duca di Ramsford, e suo fratello, Maxwell. - This is Lord Bertrand Beaumont, Duke of Ramsford, and his brother, Maxwell.

Beaumont... Sai, mi suona familiare. Sei parente di Signor Bartholemy, per caso? - Beaumont... You know, that sounds familiar. Are you related to Lord Bartholemy, by chance?

Sì. Egli è nostro padre. - Yes. He is our father.

Sì...sì... Ha accompagnato il re precedente in molte occasioni. Sei molto simile a lui. - Yes... Yes... He accompanied the former king on many occasions. You look a lot like him.

Sì, la somiglianza di famiglia è forte. - Yes, there is a notable family resemblance.

E questaè Singorina Olivia Nevrakis, duchessa di Lythikos,un mio carissimo amico, e fedele sostenitrice del famiglia Rys. - And this is Lady Olivia Nevrakis, Duchess of Lythikos, a dear friend of mine, and loyal supporter of the Rys family.

E' un piacere conoscerla, Signore Presidente. - My sincere pleasure, Mr President.

Il piacere è tutto mio. - The pleasure is all mine.

E finalmente, questa è Singorina Harper, la nuova duchessa di Valtoria. - And finally, this is Lady Harper, the new Duchess of Valtoria.

Sì. Ma hopraticato mio Italiano.* - Yes. But I am practising my Italian. *Italian speakers will note that there is a grammatical mistake here (the correct phrasing is 'Ho praticato il mio italiano'). However, the mistake is deliberate because Harper learnt Italian literally an hour ago, so she's not going to be perfect at it!

La città eterna - the Eternal City (nickname for Rome)

Accettare le mie scuse - [Please] Accept my apologies.

Vostra Altezza Reale, colleghi delegati, Signore e Signori. È un onore, per me, ospitare la delegazionereale di Cordonia, nostro vicino e stretto alleato per centinaia di anni. Èpassato troppo tempo da— Your Royal Highness, fellow delegates, ladies and gentlemen. It is my honour to host the royal delegation of Cordonia, our neighbour and ally for many centuries. It has been far too long since—

Permatags

(Less Than) Noble Intentions only (let me know if you want to be added!)

@thetruthisthatiloveyou @anakjaybon-blog

#harper gale #drake walker #drake walker x mc #the royal romance #less than noble intentions #maxwell beaumont #olivia nevrakis #bertrand beaumont #hana lee #king liam #madeleine amaranth #Spotify

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harleybeaumont · 8 months

Text

Never Have I Ever

Chaper 20 - Watershed

Book- TRR

Series- Never Have I Ever

Pairings- Bertrand x MC

Chapter Synopsis- What started out as a humiliating ordeal with Savannah has turned into a huge realization for Bertrand.

Chapter Warnings- language, sensuality

Rating - Mature

Word Count- 2,980

A/N- I know it's been a MINUTE since I posted, but I'm back and ready to continue this story! Since it's been a while since I posted the previous chapter, I'm going to include a snippet of what happened at the end of chapter 19 to refresh your memory.

_______________________________________________

Bertrand closed his eyes tightly and imagined Riley in front of him. Instead of the overwhelming scent of Chanel No. 5, he caught the faint note of Riley’s floral shampoo. Suddenly he could taste Riley’s strawberry lip gloss. He caressed her cheek, knowing there were adorable tiny freckles beneath his hand. He ran his fingers through her golden locks which were probably just let out of a messy bun or braid. He felt her arms wrap around him and she whispered against his ear, “Do you want me, Bertrand?” His mind flashed back to Riley laying beneath him, her plump lips curving into a sexy grin as she uttered, “fuck me, Bert.”

Savannah whispered against his ear, “Say my name. Tell me you want me.”

Bertrand smiled with his eyes still closed tightly and replied, “I want you, Riley.”

__________________________________________________

Chapter 20 -Watershed

Bertrand flailed his arms in an attempt to steady himself as Savannah quite literally tossed him out of her bedroom and into the hall. “Savannah, can we just talk about-”

“No, we cannot!” She shrieked, looming in the doorway with her blouse still unbuttoned.

A creak in the hallway snapped their attention to a very startled Riley, who was holding a bag of Chewy Chips Ahoy, attempting to return to her room to watch some trash TV with a late night snack.

“Oh, isn’t this just perfect!?” Savannah spat, now directing her ire at Riley.

“Savannah, please lower your voice! People are trying to sleep and we don’t want to cause a scene.” Bertrand whispered with his hands held in front of him as if trying to calm a wild animal.

“A scene? A scene?! I’ll give you a scene!” Savannah shouted, picking up a vase from a nearby table and raising it over her head, poised to hurl it down the empty hallway. Suddenly her entire demeanor changed and she took several deep breaths. “No.. No. Lady Savannah Jane Walker is better than this. That’s right. She’s a lady. She doesn’t need to lower herself to yelling and screaming and throwing things. Especially not over a man who turned out to be nothing more than a lying, cheating scoundrel.”

Riley watched the scene before her in utter confusion and brought a cookie to her mouth, chewing slowly. This was wilder than anything she could have seen on TV.

Savannah took another deep breath before fixing Riley with a murderous gaze. “And don’t worry, he’s all yours!” She spun around, stomping into her bedroom and slammed the door behind her, leaving Bertrand and Riley alone in the hall.

“Riley.. I..” Bertrand started, but Riley nodded her head toward her bedroom which was thankfully at the other end of the hall from Savannah’s.

“Come on. It’s probably safer if we talk away from.. Whatever that was.”

Bertrand dropped down onto Riley’s bed with his head in his hands.

She touched his shoulder softly, “What happened?”

He sighed and mumbled without lifting his head, “Utter humiliation. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Riley?!” Savannah snapped, breaking the kiss and jerking away from him.

“What?”

“You just called me Riley!”

“I’m certain I did no such thing.”

Savannah’s brows furrowed and she looked as if she might physically hurt him. “You did! You son of a bitch! I knew you had a thing for her!”

“No! It’s not like that!”

“So that tramp got her hooks into you!”

“Savannah, that’s not-”

“Don’t lie to me, Bertrand! Are you two having sex?”

“I-I-I.. no?”

“Oh my god! You are!”

At that point, Bertrand could do nothing but drop to his knees and beg. “Please don’t tell anyone!”

Savannah’s mouth fell open and she ran her hands through her hair, pulling slightly so several strands stuck out wildly. “You think I would tell people about this?! This is humiliating for me! The man I’m courting is sleeping with common trash! My reputation would never recover if people found out! Why this whole thing makes me-”

Savannah suddenly stopped and took several deep breaths, speaking with an eerily calm voice. “No, no. Calm down Savannah. You can fix this. There are still several eligible men at court. What’s that idiot’s name? The one who is going to be an earl? Neville? Yes. Yes. We can do this. There’s still time for you. You’re young and beautiful. You’re going to be a countess.”

Bertrand watched her with wide, and slightly fearful eyes before saying, “I am truly sorry for-”

Savannah’s expression once again turned heated. “Oh, you're going to regret this! When I think of all the time I wasted with you, you pathetic, stuttering mess of a man! Get out of my sight!”

He jumped up and rushed for the door and Savannah shoved him roughly into the hallway.

Riley rubbed his back soothingly, trying her best to comfort him. She wished she could have been a fly on the wall for whatever weirdness happened back there. “Ok, we don’t have to talk about it.” She smiled and held out the bag, “want a cookie?”

Bertrand looked up from his hands and burst into laughter and Riley couldn’t help but join in. He smiled genuinely, clearly thankful for some relief from the earlier tension.

“I should probably go.” Bertrand shook his head, looking back down at the floor. “This has been an.. unusual night.”

“Understatement of the century.”

He stood and headed for the door. “I apologize that you had to witness all of that. And I truly hope that you are feeling better than you were earlier today. I was quite worried about you.”

Riley smiled and held out her arms. “Come here.”

Bertrand returned her smile and stepped toward her, easily melting into her embrace. His heart instantly stopped racing. His body erupted in goosebumps and he felt warmer and safer than he had in his entire adult life. He wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her neck, breathing in everything about her. The warmth of her embrace and the softness of her skin sent him into a comforting and calm place that he didn’t ever want to leave. Despite the horrible night he had, everything was suddenly right with the world and he couldn’t have been happier.

After a few moments, they separated and Bertrand headed back to his own room. As soon as he locked his door, he slumped into a chair, groaning as a new and bittersweet realization overtook his entire being.

There was no use denying it anymore. Riley was his calm, his home. And he was in love with her. Hopelessly, desperately, madly, and completely in love.

_________________________________________________

The following day, the court returned to the palace to prepare for Liam’s upcoming coronation, but the Beaumont’s stayed behind a few more days to attend some upcoming appointments. Bertrand was thankful for some time away from the court, in particular, Savannah. He desperately needed time to think about.. Well, everything.

Bertrand had spent the last four months implausibly falling in love with the woman he had been training to be a queen. When Maxwell convinced him to sponsor this woman, the only reason he allowed it was because having someone from his house be chosen would be a way to secure his legacy. But each day spent with Riley, made him care less and less about his legacy, and more about something new. Something he had never cared about before.

His own happiness.

Growing up, Bertrand always struggled with the guilt that inevitably accompanied any sort of happiness. His childhood and teenage years were almost completely devoid of any sort of joy. Under the scrutiny of his father, he had grown up far too quickly. There was always something he needed to improve on, and his father made sure to inform him of this on a daily basis. His adult life was spent going through the motions of trying to keep house Beaumont in good standing. There was no time for frivolity or romance in any way. Not until people in court began questioning why he hadn’t chosen a wife, did he begin to accept Savannah's persistent propositions for a date.

What was he supposed to do now that everything had changed?

______________________________________________

Riley knocked on Maxwell’s ajar bedroom door, pushing it open when he didn’t answer. “Max? You in here? Ready to go?”

A retching sound from his adjoining bathroom caught her attention. She peered around the corner and found Max slumped over the toilet. “Max, are you ok!?”

“Ughhhh.. Don’t look at me.”

“Aw, honey, what happened?”

“Armando has a stomach bug.”

Riley ran some cold water over a washcloth and blotted his forehead and neck, “Ah, that makes sense. Since you always have your tongue down his throat, you caught it too.”

Max coughed and waved Riley away, “Thank you, but I don’t want you to see me like this. I’m too hideous!” He sniffled dramatically, “Remember me as I once was, Riley. The cool, sexy, charismatic, life of the party.”

“Max, you’re going to be ok!” Riley tried not to laugh at his melodrama. “I’m going to get you some sprite and crackers and pepto bismol. Do you want me to call the doctor?”

Max put his head in his hands, “No, Armando said his is almost over, so it looks like a 24 hour bug.”

After a few moments, Riley returned with a tray full of snacks and medicine and placed it on the nightstand. She turned down his bed, clicked on his TV and lowered the lights. Max staggered into bed and pulled the sheet up to his chin. “Thank you. You’re an angel, you know that?”

She placed the washcloth on his forehead and chuckled, “I don’t know about that.”

Maxwell gasped, “Oh no! Your appointment at the boutique is today!”

“I’m sure I can reschedule.”

“No way! Do you know how many favors I called in to get you into Levre Rouge Boutique at such short notice? You have to get a killer dress for the coronation and show up all those snooty, prissy twats!”

“But.. I don’t want to go alone.”

“Ask Bertrand!”

“Do you think he’d really want to go dress shopping with me?” Riley laughed skeptically, but paused when she noticed the thoughtful look on Maxwell’s face.

“I think he’d be happy to do literally anything with you, Riley.”

Her heart fluttered and she couldn't keep the smile from her face. She patted Maxwell’s hand and made her way to the door, still unable to stop grinning. “You’ll let me know if you need anything, right?”

“I will.” Max smiled and settled into bed. “Now go get something sexy, bitch.”

______________________________________________________

Bertrand waited in the crisp, white and red sitting area of the fanciest dress shop he had ever seen in his life. Levre Rouge Boutique had dressed princesses, celebrities, heiresses, and everyone in between. Whatever they chose for Riley to wear to the coronation would surely be jaw droppingly gorgeous. Not that she needed a new dress for that.

“Ready for the first one?” Riley sashayed out in a sleek, forest green dress that hugged her curves all the way down to the top of her thighs, where a long slit began, ending in a pool of silk at her feet.

She stuck out her leg, allowing the slit to open completely and Bertrand swallowed hard as his eyes betrayed him, taking in every inch of skin he could. “It’s um, um..”

She grinned and waved him over to her side in front of several floor length mirrors. “Come over and see it properly.” She twirled and flared the dress out. “It’ll need to be taken in a bit, and it’s way too long, but the seamstress said they can have any alterations done overnight. Apparently you Beaumont’s have a lot of clout around here for some reason.” She winked and nudged Bertrand, who hadn’t taken his eyes off of her. “That.. was a joke. I mean, obviously you have clout being nobility.. Bert, you ok?”

He cleared his throat and met her eye line, desperately trying to avoid the ample amount of cleavage protruding from the top of the gown. “It’s lovely. I mean, you’re lovely. I mean, you look lovely.. In the dress.” Bertrand cringed. Somehow he always made a mess of everything he said when she was around.

She smiled and took his hand. “Thank you.”

A plump woman with gray hair pulled into a tight bun blew into the room in a cloud of tape measures and fabric. She spoke to Bertrand with a melodic french accent, “We are honored to have you here, Your Grace. And what do you think of your date's dress? You two will surely turn heads at the coronation in a gown this exquisite.”

“Oh,” Riley turned toward Bertrand, and the two blushed simultaneously, dropping one another's hands and stepping back. “We’re not-”

“She's not my-” Bertrand started. “She's my, uh..”

“Friend!” Riley finished for him. “He’s helping me find a dress. We’re friends.”

“Yes. Friends.”

The woman regarded them skeptically, but grew wide eyed as she seemed to finally recognize Riley. “Oh, mon Dieu! I apologize. When Lord Maxwell contacted me, I did not realize I would be dressing the prince's American suitor! I am so embarrassed. I should have known-"

"It's fine," Riley assured her with a smile. "Don't worry about it."

Yvette regained her composure and turned to Bertrand slyly, "Date or not, you must admit that the green brings out her beautiful eyes, no?”

Bertrand met Riley’s emerald eyes and smiled. “It does.”

Riley grinned back at him and turned toward the mirror. “Madame Yvette, I’m a little worried this one might be too revealing for the occasion. The slit is so high. Would it be inappropriate to wear in front of royalty?”

Yvette tapped her cheek thoughtfully, “Oui, you may be right. Follow me, darling, we will find you something perfect.”

After an hour and a half of trying on dress after dress, Riley had narrowed it down to two. “Bert, I can’t choose! Which one is your favorite?”

“Oh, I don’t think it should be up to me,” Bertrand shook his head.

“Well technically you are paying for it,” Riley wrinkled her nose slightly. “Which I still feel bad about by the way.”

He smiled, “And I’ve told you before, don’t worry about that. Which one do you like the best?”

“Ah, I don’t know! Let me see the other dress one more time!” She changed out of the sequined, mauve gown and back into the scarlet one, then reemerged into the dressing area where Bertrand was waiting patiently. “I’m sorry, this must be so boring for you. We’ve been here forever and I’m so indecisive.”

“You cannot rush perfection!” Madame Yvette mused as she adjusted the dress on Riley, tucking and pinning fabric until it fit just right. “And this, darling.. This is perfection.”

Bertrand simply watched in awe of how gorgeous Riley looked in absolutely everything. He had seen her in ballgowns, pajamas, jeans, and absolutely nothing at all and she was always resplendent. And not just in her appearance, in everything about her. The way she carried herself, the way she could find the good in any situation, the way she cared about everyone.

His heart clenched as he imagined the two of them as a couple choosing an outfit for a ball they would be attending together. They would dance and laugh and everyone would be jealous of him for having the most perfect woman in the world on his arm. It was never going to happen, but it was an amazing thought.

Madame Yvette was called away for a phone call, leaving the two alone. Riley made her way from the platform to the couch where he was sitting and held out her hand. “Dance with me.”

Bertrand was sure he gulped aloud, but he stood immediately. “Dance? Here?”

“Ya, then I can see if this one feels right for a ball. Let’s give it a test drive.” She held her hand out and smiled, “please?”

Bertrand shook his head and grinned, before grasping her hand and wrapping his other arm around her waist. He looked down shyly and Riley leaned her body closer to him.

“Doesn't the fabric feel good? I’ve never worn material so soft and silky before.”

Bertrand nodded, still unable to look in her eyes.

She moved even closer to his body until there was no space left between them. “Touch it.”

He tentatively ran his hand down the fabric of her lower back, sucking in a sharp breath when she took his hand and brought it down further.

“It’s.. quite nice.”

Riley lay her head against his shoulder and he held her close as the two swayed together to the soft jazz music playing over the boutique's speakers. “I bet this seems silly, doesn’t it? Spending all this time picking out a dress.” Especially since there is no way I’m going to marry Liam.

“Nonsense. Besides, any time I spend with you is enjoyable.”

Riley felt a warmth in her chest at his words. “Bertrand, you’re too good to me. I really don’t deserve everything you guys have done.”

Bertrand stopped dancing and looked into her eyes, more serious than she had seen him before. “Never.” His thumb traced softly across her cheek and he leaned in closer. “You deserve everything and more.”

His pulse was pounding as she smiled sweetly at him. He swallowed hard, speaking directly from his heart for once. “Riley.. I need to tell you something. I-”

“Have we made a decision, madame?” Yvette called out from the hallway as she made her way back to the dressing room.

Riley and Bertrand jumped away from each other quickly and Bertrand took out his phone in an attempt to appear nonchalant. Riley looked down at her dress and smiled. “This is the one.”

_______________________________________________

When they arrived back at the estate, it was already dinner time. Riley quickly popped into Max’s bedroom to check on him, and found him sound asleep in bed.

“I’m starving.” Riley sighed as she made her way toward the kitchen, taking a seat beside Bertrand at the bar.

“What would you like to eat? The chef has left for the night, but I can call and have something delivered for you.”

“Anything.. But you pick! I am mentally drained and honestly don’t think I could make another decision tonight if my life depended on it.”

Bertrand opened his mouth to protest, but paused as an idea hit him. “I know just the thing,” he smiled shyly and pulled out his phone.

He was going to have to step way out of his comfort zone for this.

#never have i ever #bertrand x riley #bertley #trr fanfic #the royal romance #cfwc fics of the week #bertrand beaumont #maxwell beaumont #bertrand x mc

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kristinamae093 · 8 months

Text

Ghosted

Ghosted - Always Watching (Chapter 8)

Series Summary - Prince Liam fell for Riley Brooks hard and fast. A marriage filled with love and devotion was within his reach. But everything changed when she vanished just before the end of the social season. As everyone voices their concerns regarding her scandalous departure, a confession from an unlikely source turns Liam's world upside down and makes him question everything around him.

Book/Pairing - TRR - Liam x MC (Riley Brooks)

A/N1 - This AU starts right before the beginning of the engagement tour. There is a two-month lapse between the coronation and where we pick up, but we will stray from canon. Please excuse any errors found.

Characters belong to Pixelberry.

The morning after the discovery of the maid’s body, Liam sat with Olivia, Drake, and Maxwell inside the study at the Applewood estate. Liam canceled the barn raising scheduled for the day early that morning. He told the press it was because of inclement weather, which was not necessarily a lie, although it wasn’t the entire truth.

Liam realized they could not keep the murder under wraps forever. Only a few people knew the real reason for the cancellation, including those in the safe room, Drake, Olivia, Maxwell, and the guards. He planned to keep it that way until they knew who was responsible, and then he would happily release that information to the public. He visited with Rhonda’s family briefly and told her husband they would receive a stipend from the crown, as well as college funds for her children.

They all believed that the incidents shared a relation; the only steady lead they had regarding Riley wound up dead days later, and that was no coincidence for anyone. Olivia explained to Liam in great detail her observations at the crime scene; after hearing her retelling, he too believed the area was staged, but he couldn’t make too many conclusions until Bastien presented him with the evidence.

The bloodied dress put a sense of urgency on things, but the murder really made everything more critical. Whoever was behind this was clearly not playing a game and didn’t want their plan to be uncovered. He was growing restless, not knowing the extent to which this treachery ran.

It appalled him that all of this happened right under his nose. The doubts about the narrative against Riley were always there, but this runs deeper than just wanting a particular woman to sit on the throne as Queen. Whoever orchestrated all of this was an enemy of the Crown, and Liam was determined to rid that negativity of his court.

Another part of his impatience was purely the need to see with his own eyes that Riley was safe. The guilt he felt for turning his back on her crept up on him at random times throughout the day, but he was trying to push that aside and focus on locating her at any cost. He hoped that whoever was responsible hadn’t been able to locate her either; he prayed with everything in him that after she arrived in New York, she found a safe place to retreat, far away from the turmoil that was unraveling around him.

“OH! What about this one?” Maxwell exclaimed, as he sat next to Drake and scrolled through an online catalog of outfits for an upcoming gala.

Drake rolled his eyes. “Please stop showing me this crap. S’long as you wear something, I don’t really give a shit what you show up in.”

“What are you going to wear?”

“Clothes, most likely.”

“Clothes, most likely.” Maxwell mocked under his breath.

“What was that?” Drake snapped.

“Nothing! Oh, this has a matching one! Look! Ohmygosh we could match! Twins!” Maxwell exclaimed as he once again shoved his phone in Drake’s face.

Drake grimaced at the sight before him. It was a set of bright blue ocean wave suits, complete with a bright orange squid bow tie. “God, no. Not even if you paid me.” He replied as he shook his head.

“Oh, come on, Walker. You can be a sea creature instead of one who drags his knuckles on the ground.” Olivia added with a smirk.

Drake flipped her off. “Fuck. You.”

Olivia snickered. “I’d rather take a lava bath, but thanks.”

“I’ll see if Bertrand will match me,” Maxwell said with a mischievous grin.

“Good luck with that, Beaumont,” Drake answered.

“It could go better than you think, honestly. He’s been super nice to me ever since we told him about all this stuff with Riley. I miiiiight be able to get him to do it.”

“I’m taking pictures if it happens, hands down,” Drake chuckled.

Olivia subtly rolled her eyes. “Stay away from me, regardless of what you wear. You too, Walker.”

“Way ahead of you there, Ice Duchess.”

Liam stayed quiet; although he still held rage with Bertrand and his tasteless actions, he hadn’t given his status as Duke much thought. Although it had not left his mind, for now, especially for Maxwell’s sake, he was keeping his inner thoughts to himself.

A knock interrupted them from their uplifted moment. Liam stood and granted them entrance, and Bastien appeared with a bow. “Your Majesty, I was hoping to give you an update on the homicide.”

“Of course.”

“We have no clear suspects. However, we discovered a murder weapon.”

Olivia’s ears perked up from her seat, and Liam’s eyes widened. “You did?”

“Yes, sir. We found it in the woods near the area, and I sent it off for analysis. It was a black knife with gold trimmings; I believe it to be the same one used in the earlier ceremony that night.” Bastien held out a folder to Liam, who accepted it and started looking through it immediately.

The picture at the start revealed the murder weapon, which was the same knife used to cut the apple with Madeleine, but covered in blood from the tip to the hilt. He flipped further and felt his stomach churn at the images of the crime scene. The first few photos were of the maid’s face and he could recognize her, but barely. As he proceeded, he suddenly pulled the file away from his face with a grimace as he saw the cause of death photographed.

“I apologize, sir. I should have given you a warning beforehand.”

Liam swallowed thickly and with a deep breath resumed, but a tad more prepared for the sight this time. “My God…” He gasped. “What – How – I –” He stammered before closing his mouth with a shake of his head.

“We still don’t know a lot, sir, as it’s still the early stages of investigating. But we are working around the clock to ensure we receive a solution promptly. Obviously, we’re certain the cause of death was the wound in the jugular, however, we have sent the body for analysis as well. When I spoke with the other staff, they recalled seeing her earlier in the day, but her whereabouts past three p.m. are unknown.”

“Is that everything?”

“For now, yes. I will let you know something else as soon as I know.”

Liam resumed his venture through the folder and furrowed his brows at some of the random items photographed as evidence; the things Olivia noted were present, as well as what appeared to be a cap for a tube of lipstick with a clear set of fingerprints. Of course, the suspect could have dropped the item, but it seemed conveniently placed within the other markers. The only thing that implied relevance was a bloodied shoe print. He could tell it was a woman’s, as the base was short and narrow, not to mention the pinpoint of a heel. However, it was still an odd discovery given that there appeared to be no other signs of blood anywhere else except on the body itself. “Bastien, are you questioning the legitimacy of this crime scene? At all? I see multiple red flags here just at first glance.”

“We found a few things out of the ordinary, but I have sent everything for analysis. I’m confident either way, the forensics will produce some kind of answer.”

Liam nodded, sufficed by his response. “Have you looked for Riley? Or Tariq?”

“I have attempted but have found no new leads. However, I am still continuing even with arrangements for the tour and the homicide investigation. I am doing everything in my power to provide you with some answers.”

“Thank you, Bastien. Just… keep me updated…” Bastien nodded and bowed before he exited. As he did, Liam stood staring blankly at the door behind him, his mind a jumbled mess of chaos that seemed to only get worse by the day.

Drake cautiously approached Liam. “You alright, man?”

Liam laughed sardonically. “No, Drake, I’m not… How am I just supposed to wait? How long is it going to take Bastien to find something?”

“I’m not sure, but what else can we do?”

Liam ran a hand down his face and let out a frustrated sigh. “I don’t know. If I did, we’d be doing it.” He snapped, but immediately caught himself and retracted. “Sorry, Drake. I’m just…”

“Na, it’s cool. I get it. I wish there was something we could do, but… it sounds like we’re just waiting until Bastien can get those reports back.”

“Goddamnit,” Liam growled as he slammed his fist down on the desk he stood beside. “I– I can’t just sit here and wait. I need to do something now."

“Perhaps we should seek outside help,” Olivia interjected.

“What do you mean?”

“I have an acquaintance who is somewhat of a… ‘private investigator’. He’s not cheap, but he’s worth every penny. He can look into Riley and Tariq’s locations, for sure, as well as whatever else you may see fit…”

“I’m not against the idea… but how would that even work?”

“We can figure out the details later, but I have somewhat of a cover already thought of. I can easily say he’s my driver, or bodyguard, or anything, really. Who’s going to question me? Honestly?”

“Much as I hate to admit it, maybe she’s onto something, Li,” Drake interjected with a sour face. “Bas clearly has his hands full, and I know you wanna get some kind of answer.”

“See? Even the cave dweller agrees!” Olivia exclaimed, earning her a middle finger from Drake. “Plus, perhaps having another set of capable eyes around will do us some good.”

“I want to agree, I really do. It’s just… the last person to get involved with this was… well, you know. Do we really want to put someone else in danger like that?”

Olivia snickered. “It’s cute of you to worry, but he’s more than capable of defending himself.”

“I don’t know…”

“Do it, Liam! DO IT! Or I will myself!” Maxwell exclaimed.

“No offense, but how are you gonna pay him?” Drake asked.

“Perhaps he would be interested in a one-on-one interpretive dance class; we could trade one service for another.”

“Hate to break it to you, but your dance class ain’t worth shit.”

Olivia rolled her eyes but approached Liam and blocked Maxwell and Drake from view, forcing him to focus on her. Of course, her top priority was ensuring Riley’s safety, but in addition, she had her own questions regarding her blackmail. She would help Liam with anything, but this was more than merely a favor; it was personal. However, Bastien’s competency was undoubtedly questionable in Olivia’s mind. She couldn’t rule him out as a suspect, but she didn’t exactly have something concrete to tie him to anything. For the time being, she needed a second set of capable hands.

“Liam, we have to act on this now. Whoever did this is actively covering their tracks. If we don’t do something, we may never figure this out.” Olivia pleaded.

Liam swallowed thickly and kept his gaze trained on the floor. “I know…”

“So, let my associate come and assist us. If he doesn’t provide answers, I’ll pay his service fees out of pocket. But of course, I’ll be working alongside him.”

“I trust you, Olivia, I do. However, I’m worried that putting another person into the equation may end up biting us in the ass in the long run.”

“I understand, but again, he’s highly trained and knows what he’s doing. All we have to do is keep his cover intact until we can locate one of them. We can’t tip the mastermind off and give them an opportunity to bury this deeper. As long as everyone in this room keeps their mouth shut about his true purpose, we should have no issues.”

Liam looked away with a heavy sigh; although he remained hesitant to add another person to this mess, the thought of getting any kind of answer outweighed any con he could think of. And, he trusted Olivia to steer him correctly. He finally said, “Okay, do it...”

“I already did, Liam. He’ll be in the country this evening, hopefully,” Olivia smirked. “Now, we need to address the next order of business…” she trailed off as she approached the window and stared out. “Whoever did this killed that maid to send us a message; I think we need to send one back.”

Liam’s jaw fell open. “What?! Why would you think that, Olivia? We–”

Olivia held her hand up to stop him. “Let me finish; we need to send a message while doing ourselves a favor. The tour leaves for Italy in four days, but that can not happen, Liam.”

Liam furrowed his brows. “You want me to cancel the tour?”

“No, I want you to rebuild it to stay in the country. Think about it; you’re technically still going along with their plans, but perhaps throwing a wrench into them. You’re showing that you’re willing to play along for now, but you won’t back down entirely like they assume you’ll do.”

Liam shook his head. “I don’t think that’s smart, Olivia. We don’t know what they’re capable of or what lengths they’ll go to.”

“I’m aware of that, but it’s not like you’re canceling everything; you’re simply rerouting, so to speak. The results will still be the same; you’ll ‘marry Madeleine.’ How you get there shouldn’t matter.”

“Isn’t that suspicious? To suddenly keep the tour within the country?”

“It would be, but I thought ahead and I think I have a decent proposal laid out.” Olivia produced a file and handed it to Liam. “How are we going to figure this out internationally? We have to stay here…”

Liam opened the folder and saw a detailed explanation for the sudden changes, as well as a list of future events to be held within the duchies. “Wow,” He responded with wide eyes. “This – this is convincing, and you’ve practically already planned everything… When did you have time for all this?”

“Last night. I wanted to come and find you right after Walker and I left the crime scene, but I assumed my plan would get a stronger reaction if I laid it out for you. All you have to do is make the calls…”

“I think it’s a solid move, Li,” Drake interjected. “You’re standing your ground but yet still giving the appearance that you’re moving forward for the ‘greater good of Cordonia.’ I’ll help you take care of anything you need help with, or try to at least. But she’s right; we won’t find any more information about what happened to Brooks globe-trotting.”

“Trust me, I don’t want to leave, but we already set these events! What am I supposed to do to–”

“You need to pull your head out of your ass, Liam.” Olivia interrupted. “You’re the King and I think this would be a lot easier if you’d start acting like it.” She saw Liam contemplating her statement and stepped closer to him with narrowed eyes. “It’s time you put your fucking Crown on and show these assholes that you won’t back down. What’s really important to you here, Liam? Do you want to figure this out, or are you going to let them use your duty to control you – again? I lay the plan out for you and when my associate joins us, we are that much more prepared if they were to strike back, but we can’t pussyfoot around anymore. You wanted to do something now, so do it.”

Liam stared at her for a long moment as her words echoed in his mind and a newfound determination took over him. His nostrils flared as his hands balled into fists at his sides. The bright blue orbs that were previously dimmed seemed to darken even further. Olivia was right; this was his country, his call, and the ball was now in his court.

Liam never said a word, but soon marched over to the desk and picked up the phone. He listened intently until someone answered the other end of the line. “Buonasera, Francesco. I’m afraid I’m going to have to cancel our pre-scheduled festivities...”

Liam, Drake, and Maxwell worked the rest of the day and into the evening to cancel all the tour’s events, and were well on their way to planning what Olivia had mapped out. With the newly produced schedule, they would have much more time to focus on their investigation while still keeping the same number of events as before.

Liam’s determination in his decision stood firm, however, he couldn’t deny feeling apprehensive as well. He was sure there would be retaliation in some form and was unsure as to just how far they would go. However, the power he felt at that moment was something he wasn’t used to. Since his ascension, he’d signed treaties and other small documents, but this was the first time he was going to assert his authority in such a large capacity. Adrenaline ran through his veins and for the first time, he felt like a King.

The door to the study was suddenly flung open without warning, startling everyone inside. Madeleine marched into the room with a red face. “What the hell, Liam?!” Constantine trailed not far behind her, although his expression was one more of confusion than anger.

“Ah, I take it you’ve learned of our changes?”

“There will be no changes! We’ve had this planned for weeks! We’re not canceling within a few days–”

“I already did.”

The color drained from Madeleine’s face. “No, you didn’t.”

Liam indignantly laughed. “Oh, I sure did.”

Madeleine’s cheeks heated further, nearly purple. “What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

Constantine put a gentle hand on Madeleine’s shoulder. “Language.” He scolded. Madeleine stepped back with her arms crossed over her chest. “Liam, I want to believe you’re not doing all of this for an irrational reason.”

“I’m simply doing what’s best for Cordonia.” Liam shrugged.

Madeleine scoffed and shook her head. "Unbelievable! Have you completely lost your mind? How is this what’s best for anyone?!”

Constantine turned and gave her a warning glance. “Although I do not agree with her delivery, I echo Countess Madeleine’s question.”

“First off, explain to me how an international tour is beneficial to Cordonia at this current moment. The only event that even made a difference was the charity banquet in Paris; the rest of it was just a bunch of bullshit. This way, we can rally our people behind us.”

“It was for publicity, Liam!” Madeleine exasperated. “We need to worry about our international standings, which are going to be shit now that you’ve–”

“Our key priority is the Cordonian people. My father pointed out to me that the citizens doubt our union already, and I can’t say I blame them. It isn’t a secret that you weren't my first choice, not even the second.” Liam had to hide his smile as he stood from his seat and crossed the room to stand in front of Madeleine.

He forced the softest tone he could when he spoke again. “I want to do everything I can to ensure this works. I know I haven’t done my part, but this is my first step in making amends. Although the international publicity would be good, we need our homeland’s support more. We can enlist in media coverage so we can still get the word out, but Madeleine, we need to stay here. Cordonia needs us right now; Cordonia needs to see its future leaders united. We have to show them we are going to lead them together.” He swallowed down the lump of bile in his throat.

Constantine observed Liam’s body language during their interaction. Never had he seen him so confident about a decision; he looked regal, authoritative, not a hint of doubt to be present. Liam made undeniable points, and he had preached to both of them to do more to keep the people's faith in their union. However, he couldn’t help but feel like Liam could have ulterior motives for the sudden change.

Constantine arched his brow. “That’s why you’re doing this?”

“Yes, father. I just want to ensure the right people are supporting us. We need strength internally. I’ve adapted all the best traditions into our stops along the tour to honor those who have come before us. And, well–” Liam sighed and looked away. “I need to show the Cordonian people I am in the right mind to lead them. They’ve questioned me since my coronation. I have to show them I can do this… I can’t do that from Italy or Paris...”

Constantine eyed Liam sternly for a long moment. Throughout his life, he could force Liam to break with only a glance. It never worked on Leo, but Liam always cracked under the pressure if he was hiding something. However, Liam showed no signs of hesitation and there were no slips in his facade. He looked regal, poised, composed, calm, and firm, with just a hint of vulnerability. Since he passed the signet ring to Liam, he was practically begging him to get his head together, and the man standing in front of him appeared to be doing just that.

Liam knew exactly what Constantine was doing as soon as his brow arched. It’s the same glare that had gotten him into trouble multiple times growing up and he expected to endure the stare as soon as he told his father the news. It took all of his restraint, but he never let his carefully placed expression stray from his features. He silently prayed Constantine couldn’t notice the sweat profusely forming in his palms, though.

After a long moment, Constantine’s face broke out into a small smile. He stepped forward and patted Liam on the shoulder. “I believe this is an excellent idea, son. You have my full support.”

Liam had to fight hard to hide his surprise. He expected more of a fight from Constantine, but perhaps Olivia provided the perfect excuse. He slightly bowed and said, “Thank you, father.”

“Let me know if you require any support in the plans.”

“Thank you, but we’re nearly finished.” Liam turned to Madeleine, who stood with her arms still crossed over her chest. “What do you say, Madeleine? You’re free to look over the arrangements if you’d like. We’ve left your bachelorette party on the same day as before, but the location is open to the entire country… Just say the word and I'll have the jet prepared...”

Madeleine rolled her eyes. “I don’t get why you want to cancel an international tour so we can go to the same old duchies–”

“Countess, your King made his wishes known and his reasons are relevant. Do you wish for the people to doubt your reign as Queen?” Constantine asked with his hands clasped behind his back. “Perhaps after the coronation fiasco this would have been the best solution, anyway.”

“Fine, we can proceed with your new plans.” Madeleine finally relented. “But there had better be media coverage, Liam.”

Liam fought the urge to roll his eyes. Instead, he nodded. “You have my word.”

Constantine smiled and put a hand on both of their shoulders. “I’m proud of both of you. You’re going to change the course of Cordonian history, the two of you. Have you prepared a statement, son?”

“I’m working on it,” Liam answered. “Would you like to be present with me, Madeleine? Perhaps it would be better if we announce the changes together.”

Before Madeleine could respond, Constantine did so for her. “Yes, that’s a splendid plan. Do use urgency so we may stay on track. Be sure to extend invitations to our international counterparts who we expected to see along the tour, though.”

Liam nodded, and Constantine exited with Madeleine at his side, who trampled away with heavy footsteps. Drake audibly gagged as soon as the door closed behind them. “That was hard to watch.”

Liam shuddered. “Tell me about it. Do you think they bought it?”

“I think so,” Maxwell answered. “Your dad seemed really into the idea, honestly… and as long as it’s heavily publicized, Madeleine will be happy.”

Liam rubbed his hands together. “Right… Right… You’re right…”

“Calm down, Li. You did good.” Drake patted him on the back. “They bought it and I think you made a smart move by enlisting Maddy to make the statement with you.”

“I agree. It’s showing the mastermind that although I’m changing things up, Madeleine is on board. That’s who they’re concerned about, anyway... I’m hoping that having her support on this will work to our advantage.”

“Damn straight. Now, we gotta hurry and throw all this bullshit together so you can get your statement out there.”

A few hours later, Olivia was on her way to meet with her contact on the outskirts of the city limits. Her acquaintance was someone she worked with in the past and trusted to assist them. He helped her look into the source of her own blackmail after she hit a wall. Olivia only traced it back to three different middlemen; had it not been for her associate’s aid, she never would’ve found the others. He didn't classify himself as an investigator, spy, or hacker; simply a jack of all trades. His skill set and knowledge were insurmountable, and Olivia knew he would be a worthy asset.

Olivia pulled up to an empty parking lot aside from one other vehicle. A tall man in a black leather jacket stepped out and adjusted his shirt underneath as he did so. He took off his sunglasses and leaned against the side of the car. She exited her own SUV and made her way over, all the while looking around to ensure they were alone.

“Thank you for meeting with me, Ray. I have a job for you.” Olivia cautiously spoke as she reached him.

Ray smiled and bowed to her. “What can I do for you, Duchess?”

“I need you to look into the whereabouts of two people. The first is Tariq, second Riley Brooks.”

Ray nodded. “I was wondering if you were going to seek help there.” Olivia’s brows furrowed, causing Ray to chuckle. “Please, anyone could tell those photos were fakes or set up. It seems likely that the one who leaked the story is the same person who blackmailed you.”

“It’s not just the story, Ray. We think someone removed her from the situation. We found this–” Olivia produced the trash bag with Riley’s contaminated dress and held it out to Ray, who took it and glanced at the contents. “–inside a shed, along with all of Riley’s other belongings.”

“A shed?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Your guess is as good as mine.”

Ray gave her an unsure expression. “I don’t like that, Olivia. That instantly gave me an unsettled feeling. There’s a reason her stuff is there.”

“Trust me, I know...”

Ray once again looked inside the bag. “You haven’t sent this off anywhere? To check the DNA?”

“I intended to, but then I was called to a homicide for the only solid lead we’ve had regarding Riley.” Ray didn’t even try to hide his shock, which caused Olivia to chuckle. “Yeah, tell me about it. Obviously, we’re thinking it’s all connected, but…”

Ray noticed Olivia’s hesitant expression and inquired, “What?”

Olivia sighed and explained to Ray all the things she observed the night of the maid’s murder. When she finished, she added, “I was going to have Bastien send that dress off to forensics, but after his futile behavior, I don’t think I want him near it. He’d probably fuck around and lose it or something.” She rolled her eyes.

“I can have it sent to the lab I use if you’d like. If I tell them it’s a stat order, I should only have to wait a few days.”

Olivia nodded. “Yes, do that.”

“You got it. Now, have there been any leads into either of your missing persons?”

“All Bastien has found is that Riley landed in New York the morning after the jamboree.”

“Nothing on Tariq?” Olivia shook her head. “Hmm… I find it odd that there would be no trace of him.”

“I can confirm on my end I found the same result when I searched.”

“I’ll begin at once. And you want me to travel with you?”

“Just for now. If we’re correct once the news breaks of the tour’s new destinations, there may be retaliation. I’m not sure what that could look like at this point and I need more people around who can properly assess situations. Honestly, finding Riley’s dress and leaving it opened my eyes to the fact that we’re all emotionally involved in this. There’s no reason for it to have sat in there a second longer once we found it, but we were all so stunned nobody was thinking. I hate to admit it, but even myself included.”

“I can see why; it’s a lot of information to learn at once and not a lot of it makes any sense from where I’m standing. But I agree that having someone with a firm and clear mindset could benefit you.”

“I’m counting on it.” Olivia handed him a thick folder. “Here is your dossier to cover you throughout the tour. You are now Harold Marshowitz, my new bodyguard. Alternative forms of identifications are in there as well as any security clearance you may need.”

“Got it.”

“Great, let’s get moving.”

“Wait–” Ray stopped her. “While we’re free to speak openly, I wanted to bring forth another potential lead I see…”

Olivia arched her brow. “I’m listening…”

“Have you looked into that article? At all?”

“What do you mean?”

“It had to come from somewhere; it didn’t just appear. Not only did someone have to take those photos, but there was a story attached to it. Someone concocted that; I’m unsure if it’ll be the same person, or…”

Olivia shook her head as frustration washed over her. “No, I hadn’t even thought about that…”

“As you said, you’re all emotionally involved in this. I’m not, so I can see things a little more clearly…” Ray trailed off, then hesitantly spoke. “I’m, uh – a little surprised that the guard didn’t think of that.”

“Bastien is an idiot, but something about his demeanor lately has struck me as off… I don’t know if he’s developing dementia, or if it’s something deeper…”

“All the more reason to have me around,” Ray smirked.

“Is that something you can look into? The article?”

Ray flashed her a cocky smile and straightened his jacket. “Who do you think you’re talking to?”

Olivia rolled her eyes. “I’m trusting you, Ray. I need you to come through for me.”

Ray placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “All jokes aside, this is what I live for, Olivia. I love sinking my teeth into a juicy mystery. I will find them, you have my word.”

Out of sight, a figure was lurking in the shadows not far away, intently watching and listening to the meeting. As Olivia and Ray vacated the area together, the peeper clenched their jaw and repetitively punched the tree they stood beside. After removing their surveillance equipment and slamming it to the ground, they started vigorously pacing.

Everyone assumed Liam could start asking questions, but his duty and broken heart were supposed to keep him blinded. The expected time for his inquiries was long after the wedding when the job would be fully completed. However, Liam and his collective group of friends were making progress in their search and had uncovered too much in a short period; not everything, but it wouldn’t be that hard to find the rest of those answers, especially now that he brought on a competent professional to help. Considering how early it was in the tour, the possibility of him figuring it out suddenly skyrocketed.

As a result, the entire operation was in more danger than ever before; that was not an option for anyone involved. They served the deception all around; if the mission was uncovered, multiple people would go down for it, and they would face the wrath of more than the current monarch.

It wasn’t hard to guess where their investigation would lead them next, and that meant another loose end just identified itself. The unknown person brought out their phone to make a call, which was answered on the first ring. “We have a tremendous problem…”

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