Page 22 of His Royal Secret (His Royal Secret 1)

She lifted her face to look at him. Very steadily she said, "I'm sick."

"Yes," Dr. McKay said. "But that doesn't mean you can't get better."

Indigo breathed out, a sigh of relief. "Thank you."

Finally everyone has admitted what's really wrong, Ben thought. That's the first thing she needed.

They separated from Indigo more easily than Ben would have thought. She was grateful to sink into her new, twin-size bed, in a small white room, as long as she was promised a good-bye. James walked away haltingly, and together they went into Dr. McKay's office for the "medical history," such as it was.

"I can't say precisely when her self-harm began." James sat in his chair, elbows on his knees, the words spilling out of him unchecked. Ben had never seen him so completely unguarded with anyone else; it was a sign of how shocked and desperate James truly was. "I first noticed it when I was home from university approximately a year after our parents' deaths. She wasn't yet cutting herself, but she had these horrible bruises up and down her arms. I found out she was slamming the door on her own forearm, repeatedly."

This didn't faze Dr. McKay. "Had you noticed signs of instability from her before your parents died?"

James looked up at the ceiling, as if searching for guidance. Ben simply kept rubbing James's shoulder, remaining silent. "She was always--I suppose you would say 'highly sensitive.' Even when she was a baby. I remember Mum saying she was quick to startle and slow to soothe. But nothing out of the usual way, I don't think."

"What else has been done for her?"

"Very little, I'm afraid." James's face betrayed such incredible shame. "She's always been frightened of outsiders, and of course the family tends to prioritize privacy over, well, honesty. I read what I could on the Internet--I'm sorry, I know how utterly pathetic that is, but it's true. I tried to make her feel safe, and hoped she'd get better, but that's not likely to happen. Not on its own. Losing Hartley finally made both of us see that, I think."

Dr. McKay kept on with his quiet questioning. Ben noted that at no point did the doctor say "Your Royal Highness" or call James "sir." Probably this was merely because the young man knew no better, but Ben thought it was a good sign. Indigo needed to be free of all that protocol and artificiality. For a while, she needed to be treated like anyone else in her situation, and it seemed that Dr. McKay could provide that.

Finally James went to say good-bye to Indigo in her room. Ben understood, without having to be told, that this was something brother and sister needed to do alone. James gripped his hand for a moment, his expression nearly as lost as his sister's, before he walked back upstairs to her and left Ben alone with Dr. McKay.

"Excuse me, Mr. Dahan," the young doctor said. "I realize you're a relative newcomer to the situation, but sometimes outside perspective is valuable. Is there anything you could add to what your partner has already told me?"

"I'm not sure, Dr. McKay."

"Please, call me Colin."

"Colin, then." Ben thought about it for a moment. "James is the most devoted of brothers. But I think sometimes he has fought so hard to protect his sister that he's sheltered her from everything, even the experiences that might have made her stronger."

"That's not an unusual reaction. Honestly, it sounds so far as if he's handled it better than most. Things like letting her keep a blade, allowing her to lock herself in from time to time--those are powerful messages about autonomy, and precisely what most people in her situation are denied. Still, there's only so much he could have done on his own."

"Another thing--" This wasn't in the news yet, and Ben felt unsure about mentioning it, but what the hell. The headlines were going to explode tomorrow. "The king has recovered. The regency will end as of Monday. James understands that Princess Amelia needs treatment, but the rest of the family will not. You may run into interference from them next week. If that happens, to hell with courtesy. Raise the biggest, loudest stink you can. We might not be able to make them see sense, but perhaps they can be shamed into decency. If you're unwilling to do that based on my say-so, talk to James. He'll tell you the same."

Colin looked intimidated, as well he might after being told to face down the king of England if necessary. But he simply nodded. "We protect our patients here. Rest assured of that."

Ben decided that choosing this place, even from a brochure, even in a hurry, might prove to have been the best move they could have made. Then again, someone else had selected St. Maur Hall. Well chosen, Hartley, Ben thought. Well done. Even after his death, the elderly butler continued helping his beloved princess. .

Once Colin had gone, Ben went out to the front hall to await James. By now it was nearly 1 a.m. Most of the staff had cleared out, but a few remained. Ben felt both as if he needed to sleep for about a hundred years and as if he would never be able to sleep again.

Then James emerged from the stairs. His face was pale, and he looked so desperately afraid that Ben actually felt his lover's fear lancing into him, like a pain beneath his ribs. "Is she all right?"

James nodded. "She's ready. I only wish I were." Then his lower lip trembled, and Ben could see that he was at the very brink of his self-control, on the verge of losing it completely. A few lingering staffers were standing around witnessing this, and Ben could not stand for them to see James so vulnerable and so exposed.

He went to James, resting his forearms on James's shoulders, cradling his face in his hands--sheltering him, so that nobody else could see. "It's all right," Ben whispered, very close to James's lips. "She's going to be all right now."

"We don't know--"

"We have to hope."

James continued to struggle. A single tear trickled from his eye, and Ben kissed it away. After a few more moments, James choked out, "I just feel like some sort of monster, doing this to her."

"You're not doing this to her. You're doing it for her."

With a sigh, James buried his head in Ben's neck and embraced him tightly. Ben hugged him in return, stroking his hands up and down James's back. "You've done the right thing," Ben repeated, over and over. "You've done the right thing."

If the others watched, fine, let them watch. Let the headlines claim they were making out while the princess went to the asylum. Let them all tell their lies, as long as James knew the truth.

Chapter 7

The Bishop's Move

Thanks to some quick work by Kimberley, James was able to put out two official statements even before the tabloids had begun their screeching. The statement from Kensington Palace was, in effect, the one that spoke for Indigo herself; James kept this simple and precise. Her Royal Highness Princess Amelia has voluntarily entered treatment at a clinic specializing in anxiety disorders and self-injury. She has done this with the full support and understanding of her family. Please respect her privacy during this process.

His own statement was more personal, and if anyone at the House didn't like it, too damn bad.

I wish to express my love, support, and admiration for my sister as she begins the long process of recovery. Mental illness has for too long been stigmatized and relegated to silence, when it is an illness like any other, equally deserving of our understanding and our sympathy. I take the greatest pride in her courage and trust that the people of Great Britain will join me in wishing Princess Amelia a swift and complete return to health and happiness.

As fate would have it, James's bad luck was Indigo's good fortune. Although she appeared on all the tabloid covers the next day, the story of her hospitalization was folded into an even bigger piece of news--the impending end of the regency, which had no doubt been leaked to the papers by Prince Richard or someone in his camp. Most of the headlines were variations on a theme: MONARCHY IN CRISIS or FALL OF THE HOUSE OF HANOVER?, that sort of thing. The power struggles between Richard and James had always been a poorly kept secret, but apparently Richard no longer wanted it so secret now that he looked like he might win. James decided he didn't mind being picked over by the vult

ures one last time, if it provided Indigo with a bit of shelter from the press when she needed it most.

While the two of them worked in his office, Kimberley said, "The official meeting to sign the act ending the regency will be at 2 p.m. on Monday, sir. I'm afraid that conflicts with Mr. Hartley's funeral."

"Then I shall attend the funeral. Please give my regrets to the prime minister."

Kimberley gave him a look. "Sir? Are you quite certain?"

"Absolutely." Attending a servant's funeral in the first place was an enormous breach of protocol; no royal had done so in nearly one hundred and fifty years. Yet Indigo had begged James to go in her stead, and even if she hadn't, James would have felt Hartley deserved the honor. "My presence at the funeral is necessary. My presence at the signing of the Act is not."

"It may be interpreted as a sign of . . . shall we say, reluctance."

James shrugged. "Just this week, I don't give a damn about interpretations."

"Then as long as you're feeling daring, Your Royal Highness--" That got his attention, as it was no doubt meant to. Kimberley had a challenging look in her eyes. "As you will no longer be head of state come Monday evening, would you reconsider the possibility of doing a television interview? Your role would no longer preclude it, sir, and now you could not only discuss your decision to come out, but also your sister's true condition, the transfer of power, so on and so forth."

Clarifying matters about Indigo was reason enough to brave even a public discussion of his loss of power. James sighed. "Maybe you're right, Kimberley. If you could set that up for late next week, I'd appreciate it. Any day after Tuesday."

"To whom would you prefer to speak, sir?"

He considered for a moment. It was less a matter of wondering whom he trusted to handle his own story, more whom he trusted to handle Indigo's. "Gavin Carmichael, I think. He's always been fair with us, and he's not likely to conduct any sneak attacks."

"I shall contact ITV immediately, sir." Kimberley paused. "Will the matter with the Church be settled by then?"

"What a tactful way of asking whether I'll have already been asked to give up the throne." James smiled. "The answer is yes."

Kimberley looked taken aback, but she said only, "Then you'll really be able to speak your mind, sir."

James could have laughed, but then he thought, I actually could.

The idea was almost too much for him to wrap his mind around. Telling the truth? The absolute truth?

You haven't had much sleep, he reminded himself.

"Sir--if I might--I had a question to ask." Kimberley sounded unexpectedly grave. Then again, now that James thought about it, she'd been oddly quiet all morning. Was she upset that he'd taken Indigo to hospital without checking with her first? Surely not, and it was unlike Kimberley to sulk in any case.

"Certainly," he said. "What is it?"

She hesitated, fiddling with the silken scarf around her neck, before she finally straightened in her chair. "Your Royal Highness, I must ask if you were aware that, at the time of his death, Niall Edgerton was under surveillance by MI5."

At first James's brain refused to put the sounds into words, so alien did they sound. "What?"

"It took some digging to get that information, I can tell you." Kimberley's smile was quick and cool. "He'd been watched for a period of nearly two months before his death and was in fact being followed at the time of his fatal crash."

James had to brace himself against his desk. He felt faint. "The crash--it wasn't--nobody actually--"

More gently she said, "No, sir. A security camera from a nearby petrol station captured the wreck itself. No other vehicles were in contact with Mr. Edgerton's motorcycle at the time of the accident. He appears simply to have lost control."

It was a mercy, but a small one. James still felt as though his breath had been stolen from him; his heart was racing. "Kimberley, I had no idea."

"I realize that now, sir, and I apologize for having doubts. But very few people would have had the authority to order such surveillance."

"I understand, of course." Very few people indeed, and obviously Kimberley lacked the authority to find out who had been behind it--or why.

She continued, "For what it's worth, we've heard no more about him from the Enquirer or any other tabloid. This suggests their lead has already gone cold. While we cannot be certain they have no solid information, I believe the wisest course of action at present is to let the matter lie. If we react to it, they'll only realize they're on to something, sir."

James nodded. "Of course."

He had to let Niall lie there, dead but somehow newly unburied, lying there to strike James with grief and guilt all over again.

***

"I'm sure it was routine," Ben said that night over dinner, after James had vented. "Niall's a former employee who suddenly starts cashing checks from the palace? That's got to raise a few red flags."

"He was supposed to know how to get around those flags." James looked like absolute hell--not as bad as he had last night, but Ben suspected last night was as bad as it got. "Niall had worked for the Keeper of the Privy Purse, after all. He knew more about my money than anyone outside Coutts."

Ben took another bite of the beef the cooks had sent up, richly flavorful and so tender he could have eaten it with a spoon. Glover had decanted the perfect wine. And despite the horrific scene last night, their mutual exhaustion and James's present worry, he couldn't help feeling a deep sense of relief.

"There's no point in thinking about it any more at present," James said firmly, doing that compartmentalization thing he was so good at. "I haven't even asked about your meeting with the team from the trust."

By this he meant his charitable trust. Originally they had meant to attend the meeting together, but James had been forced to spend the afternoon defending Indigo's hospitalization to the rest of his family. Ben had gone it alone, and--"It went beautifully."

"Really?" James perked up at that, and even took a bite of his food.

"Yes, really." Ben had thought he'd feel awkward, like a pretender, someone horning in where he didn't belong. Instead he'd known that this was probably the final meeting of this trust he'd ever attend, given that the title of Prince of Wales was likely about to shift to someone else. So he'd simply jumped right in, stated his thoughts clearly and concisely without any attitude. To his surprise, everyone had been on the same page within about half an hour. "They actually listened. You've got a strong team."

James had begun to smile, though somewhat ruefully. "How are you so bloody cheerful?"

I'm not, Ben's instincts supplied, but he pushed them down. For James, he needed to stick to the truth. "I suppose I can't help feeling like the days of liberation are at hand."

"It would feel that way to you, wouldn't it?"

The odd note in James's voice made Ben take his hand. "I'm not blind to how unjust it is for you to lose your throne. And I know this has to be extremely strange for you. But remember what we were talking about before Glover interrupted us last night? If all this has to happen, and now it looks like it does, at least it sets us free. We can think about what comes next for us, James. For the first time in your life, you can chart your own course."

James didn't seem to know what to do with that. "It's a little late for that, really."

"Please. You're only twenty-nine years old. You've got plenty of time to do anything."

"They're not just going to boot me out, you know. I'll be expected to keep up certain royal functions, to live in one of the approved residences, so on and so forth."

"Expected to isn't the same as have to." They'd kept James locked behind the palace walls so long that he could hardly see beyond them. Ben leaned forward, gently insistent. "If they're going to steal your birthright from you in the name of bigotry, then as far as I'm concerned, afterward, you're free. Completely free. Come on, James. If you could do anything in the world--anything besides what you already do--what would it be? Once you told me you

wished you'd been a professor." He smiled a little. "That was one of the first secrets you ever gave me."

James hesitated. "I've been out of university for years now. It's not as though I could just pick it back up."

"So take some refresher courses. If they'd bend the rules for anyone in the world, it would be you."

"Do you think?" A small smile began to appear. "I've tried to keep up a bit. I think . . . well, I don't think I'd be lost if I returned to school. But no. That's ridiculous. I'm supposed to go from being Prince Regent to being just another graduate student?"

Ben shrugged. "You've got to go from being Prince Regent to being something else. Why not that?"

It was hard to tell whether or not James was taking this seriously, but at least he seemed to be amused. "I suppose you'd come live with me at Cambridge. We'd take a little cottage and ride our bicycles about town. Would that suit?"

"Sounds good to me." They'd probably still have some paparazzi to deal with, but this time the press really would wander off eventually. He who would be king was a fascinating figure. He who would never be king, less so--and, more to the point, his pictures would command a much lower price. "I'll take a job, put you through school."

"Hardly!" James had begun to laugh. "They may get my crown, but trust me, Ben, they're not getting my money. Some of that's mine alone, and every pound of it comes with us."

Ben leaned forward, resting his forehead against James's as he made a face. "Then forget the job. I'll loll around naked on a bearskin rug, eating bonbons and waiting for you to take a break from your studies and ravish me again."

"I like the sound of that." Then James paused. "Wait. I thought ravish meant rape."

"Really? I thought it just meant, you know, enthusiastically."

"I'll drag out the OED later." James leaned back in his chair. "Maybe I wouldn't want to go back to school right away, though. It would be fun to travel without any official duties, any schedule, any staff. You could take me some of the places you've lived."

"I'd like that." Ben turned back to his food, appetite returning along with their spirits.

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