Page 134 of The Unlikely Heir
We arrive in one of the sitting rooms, and I collapse onto an overstuffed chair.
My grandmother sweeps into the room, followed by Clive and two courtiers with a dignified air.
I’m immediately on my feet, bowing to her.
“Hi, Gran,” I say.
“Callum.” She comes forward, placing a small kiss on my cheek before taking a seat on one of the sofas.
“Now, what is all this about?” Clive asks. “I’m interested to discover what’s so important that it takes precedence over our response to Albert’s interview.”
“Oh, trust me, this issue is going to make the fallout of Albert’s interview look like a sneeze compared to a hurricane,” Raymond says.
Clive frowns. “What is it?”
“Callum’s just told us he’s been dating someone in secret.”
Clive’s gaze drifts between Raymond and me, his brow furrowing.
“I’m taking it that this is not a nice dating story that will provide the distraction we desperately need right now?”
“Oh, it’ll definitely provide a distraction if it gets out. Callum, why don’t you tell everyone who your secret boyfriend is?”
“Boyfriend?” Clive squawks, but I ignore him to look at my grandmother.
It’s her that I address my next words to.
“I’ve been seeing Oliver Hartwell.”
My grandmother has had a lifetime of training to school her emotions. Her eyebrows move up infinitesimally, but that’s the only physical manifestation of her surprise.
Meanwhile, Clive is spluttering away in the background.
“Is this some kind of sick joke? The Prince of Wales and the prime minister?”
“We’ve been together since Balmoral,” I say quietly, but it’s like a bomb going off. Clive reels back.
“You need to end it. End it now and hope no one ever finds out about it. The implications of this getting out…” Clive closes his eyes like his vision has been clouded by thoughts of a future scandal.
I glance back at my grandmother. She’s staring at me. And for a moment, I don’t see Queen Katharine, the reigning monarch representing a thousand-year institution. I just see my grandmother, who looks tired but concerned for me.
“Is it serious?” she asks quietly.
I don’t hesitate in my reply. “Yes.”
Gran’s blue eyes lock onto mine. “Oliver is a good man, Callum. But it’s not possible for you to be together if he remains in politics. You know the importance of the separation of powers between the monarchy and the government and how the royal family has to remain politically neutral. Is he prepared to quit politics?”
The thought of asking Oliver to quit politics for me makes my whole face go numb. Being a politician is such an essential part of who Oliver is. I think of the passionate way he talks about all the reforms he wants to pass, the people he wants to help.
He’s the prime minister. I know Oliver loves me, but can I seriously expect him to give up leading his country just for me?
What’s the alternative? I step down from succession so I can be with him?
I can’t do that to my grandmother.
Until now, Oliver and my relationship has been messages exchanged in the late hours of the night, whispers on pillows, and intimate moments in privacy.
Now it feels like our relationship is spread out on the table to be dissected under harsh fluorescent lights.
