Page 31 of Her Royal Master
No such luck.
I shaved off the two month’s worth of scruff on my face.Not because I wanted to look good for the influx of paparazzi that I expected would soon be camped outside the manor gates.Only because I knew if I didn’t, the queen would screech until it happened.
After the Madison incident, she’d threatened to strip me of my title.
“Go ahead,” I’d told her.“I never asked for this life.”
She’d then gone on a diatribe about my responsibility to family and country and ended up crying over my wasted life.
Yeah.It was a good time.
I do believe she cares for me, and I know Kaspar does, which is the only reason I ever make half an attempt to redeem myself.
Except everyone knows I’m irredeemable.
I turned off the water and stepped out of the shower.
A tap sounded on my bedroom door.
I couldn’t force any sound of acknowledgement out of my throat.It just took too much effort.
“My lord?”Edwin, my butler tapped on the door.“The queen is on her way to the manor, sir.”
Of course she was.
“What is the news, Edwin?”I asked with a sigh, toweling off.
Edwin cracked the bedroom door and spoke through the gap.“A story broke during the night in America.Rolling Stone Magazinerevealed the truth about what happened withthat womanlast year.”He spat the words ‘that woman,’ his anger over what Madison had done always apparent.
I went still.“An exposé onMadison?”
“Yes, my lord.Interviews with her friends, past and subsequent play partners, photos of her in the BDSM scene.The press here are running the story non-stop.Support for you on social media is through the roof.”
My heart pounded.Not about the results of the story.About Chelsea.What she’d done.“Bring me the article, Edwin.”The urgency to connect with her, to read words she’d written had every cell in my body flaring to life.
I yanked on my clothing and stalked out into the living room in my bare feet to meet Edwin, who carried a laptop, open to the story.
By Chelsea Chase.I read the byline.
Chelsea Chase.I repeated her name in my head, loving that I finally had her full name.
“Get Samson to research this reporter, Chelsea Chase.She’s American.I need an address for her.And call over to the hangar to ready the jet.”
“Where should I say you’re going, sir?”
“Wherever Chelsea is.Find out.I leave immediately—as soon as you have the location.”
“Yes, sir.”Edwin bowed, moving swiftly away.
I re-read her name.Chelsea Chase.A sweet name for a beautiful girl.Why had she done this?Crazy girl.I didn’t need saving any more than my dog had.But she must have believed I did.
Sources close to the duke say it was out of an ingrained sense of chivalry that kept Halsburg from reporting the truth.“A gentleman never contradicts a lady,” or so the duke believes, said one close friend.
I sank into the closest chair at my dining room table, reeling.For the first time since the day I’d watched Chelsea run off theSweet Surrender,the constant ache in my chest eased.The heaviness in my limbs lifted.
Chelsea had gone to bat for me.
Ridiculous.
