Page 79 of The Unlikely Heir
My stomach rolls. My hands shake slightly, threatening to spill my cup of tea, so I set it on the tea tray.
Dating? He wants me to go on a date?
The problem is, I don’t want to date any of the random men or women out there.
I want Oliver Hartwell.
I have no desire to see Raymond choke on his mustache, however, so I keep that particular fact to myself.
Raymond is looking at me expectantly, waiting for a reply.
“I’ll think about it,” I promise.
ChapterNineteen
Callum
The start of June is jammed full of events, like a royal piñata bursting with glittering engagements.
It starts with Trooping the Colour, where I stand on the Buckingham Palace balcony with Nicholas and Amelia, watching the fourteen hundred soldiers, four hundred horses, and four hundred-member brass band all in a display of pageantry celebrating my grandmother’s birthday, even though she was born in January.
The mall is lined with massive Union Jacks, the troops in bright-red tunics and black bearskin hats marching perfectly in time with the music from the band.
Standing in the drizzle, watching the RAF planes buzz overhead in the finale, my life in California feels so far away.
I’ve been messaging Scott regularly, but they’ve been benign, generic messages because, despite the loyalty he’s shown me, I’m still paranoid that anything I share with him might end up blasted across the tabloids.
I wish I could talk to Oliver. He would be able to anchor me. Without him, I’m adrift.
I’m still feeling that loneliness when my grandmother requests to see me in her sitting room the night after Trooping the Colour. Initially, our conversation is just about my upcoming investiture, but then she tilts her head to one side and asks me a question I’m not expecting.
“And how are you doing overall?”
The usual platitudes I give everyone except Oliver die on my lips when I see the concern etched on her face.
“It’s been an…adjustment,” I say.
“I understand. This is not an easy life, despite what many assume.”
“I like being able to speak up for those who do not always get heard,” I say.
Gran nods. “That is one of both the privileges and responsibilities of our positions. I have never taken that lightly.”
“I know you haven’t.”
My grandmother has devoted her entire life to serving the people of the United Kingdom. I don’t think anyone can doubt her devotion or the sincerity with which she undertakes her duties.
I look down at the patterned carpet, pressing my feet into the plush strands before I raise my gaze to hers.
“Do you ever get…?” I trail off because personal questions are not something we really do in our family. But she’s watching me, and her expression is soft enough that I find the courage to finish my question. “Lonely?”
She hesitates, and I feel my face flush. Have I overstepped?
“The position of monarch is often lonely, Callum,” she says finally. “The only way to stave off that loneliness is to find a partner prepared to support you in every way.”
I gulp. A partner. Right.
Her blue eyes find mine. “I was lucky with your grandfather. There were not many men prepared for their wives to overshadow them, particularly in that era. But your grandfather supported me wholeheartedly.” For a moment, grief deepens the lines on her face even further. I think of what I remember of my grandfather, a tall man with ruddy cheeks and laughing eyes.
