Page 152 of The Unlikely Pair
I’m trying to keep my distance from Harry. I managed to restrain myself from reaching out to him after the Paul revelation, but it took all my self-control. I’ve constantly had to remind myself why this thing with Harry can’t continue.
I send a glance at Harry now. Is he as conflicted about this as I am?
But, of course, Harry looks completely composed. He’s even more impeccably handsome than normal in a black tailcoat and high-waisted black trousers, sitting with his father and mother and some members of the House of Lords.
It’s a reminder of exactly who Harry is. He’s the leader of the Conservative Party, but he’s also part of the aristocracy. He represents everything I’ve spent my career fighting against.
Luckily, it appears Callum has recently been reading about the history of Guildhall, so I can manage to keep my gaze away from Harry and focus on his interesting facts.
I’ve been here for so many events over the years but had no idea that it has been the center of the City of London’s governance since the twelfth century, and beneath the Guildhall yard lies the remains of London’s Roman amphitheater.
“And, of course, Guildhall was also the site of the trial of Lady Jane Grey, often known as the Nine Days Queen,” Callum tells me.
All Callum is doing is reinforcing how much I’ve forgotten since my History A-Levels.
“She was only Queen for nine days?” I ask.
“Yes. She succeeded her cousin Edward VI. He’d designated her his heir to try to prevent his half-sister Mary Tudor from ascending the throne because she was Catholic,” Callum says. He takes a sip of wine, his gaze sweeping across the grand hall as if imagining the trial that took place here centuries ago. “I feel kind of sorry for Jane, actually. She was forced to accept the throne by her conspiring father and father-in-law, knowing that most of the country supported Mary Tudor as the true heir. And sure enough, Mary amassed support and marched into London to depose Jane. Jane was tried for high treason here and then executed at the Tower of London when she was only sixteen.”
I blink at the brutal ending of Callum’s story. It’s a good reminder of how British politics have always been ruthless.
After dinner is finished, it’s time for the speeches.
The Lord Mayor speaks first about London and the global importance of our city. Then, the prime minister stands to speak, talking about the need for resilience and adaptability in an ever-changing world. Despite her polished delivery, Rosalia doesn’t have the same charisma and charm Oliver always had when giving a speech.
Oliver, who gave all this up for Callum.
Applause breaks out once the prime minister finishes speaking.
“Do you miss this?” I ask Oliver in an undertone.
“Sometimes,” he says. Then he glances over at Callum, who is reading the notes he jotted down on a napkin while the Lord Mayor and the prime minister spoke, and it’s impossible to miss the affection in Oliver’s eyes. “But I couldn’t have both, and there has never been a single day I’ve regretted my choice.”
Even though I’ve been restrained so far tonight, I can’t help glancing at Harry, my gaze snaring on him.
Could I make a similar decision? Give up politics for Harry like Oliver gave it up for Callum?
But even if I gave up politics, Harry and I still couldn’t be together. And would there be enough of me left for Harry to love if I gave up my career?
But the fact that the thought entered my head at all disturbs me. Who says Harry loves me?
Like he senses my eyes on him, Harry jerks his head up to my gaze.
Our gazes lock together, and an electric current surges through my body. The bustling banquet hall fades, and it’s just the two of us locked in a silent conversation.
For the first time this evening, my feeling of disorientation fades. Harry’s gaze anchors me.
Emotions well inside me, tightening my chest to the point I can’t breathe.
Oh my God, I miss him so much.
I would almost give up everything, all the trappings of civilization, food security, my guarantee of personal safety, if it meant I could be back in a remote cabin with him.
Crazily, it’stalkingto him I miss the most. Along with that feeling I’d gotten used to, that idea I had someone else on my team, someone I could always rely on.
Now I’m back to being a lone wolf. And I don’t like it at all.
Harry and I stare at each other for an inordinate amount of time before he quirks one eyebrow infinitesimally.
