“The woman,” I continued. “The American model. Is the child yours?”
Remy took a long swallow, grimacing as he set down the glass. “I don't know. It's... possible. We were together during the timeframe she claims.” His admission lacked the defensive posturing I'd expected.
I closed my eyes for a moment, absorbing this harsh truth. “And Helene?”
“Furious. Devastated. She says she’s done, Ricard. That she can forgive many things but not this, not another child, not the public humiliation.” His voice cracked, revealing the genuine affection for his wife that existed beneath his infidelities. “She’s taken the children to her parents’ estate in Montserrat and is refusing all contact except through her lawyers.”
The situation was worse than I'd feared. Helene was beloved in Avaline, her popularity consistently outranking other royal family members in public opinion polls. Her charity work with children's education had won international acclaim. If she truly left him, the damage to the monarchy could be irreparable. “What does Father say?”
“Furious as expected. He says I’ve disgraced the family name, endangered the monarchy.” Remy’s humorless laugh rang hollow. “All true, of course, but not particularly helpful in the moment. The entire Council of Ministers has been in emergency session for three days.” Remy swirled his drink, watching the amber liquid catch the light. “Father has even reached out to Cardinal Moreau about the implications for the Concordat.”
The mention of the Concordat, the centuries-old agreement between Avaline and the Vatican, underscored the severity of the situation. Divorce within the royal family would require special dispensations and potentially reopen negotiations that had remained settled since 1847.
“And Mother?”
“Disappointed. Concerned about the children, Helene, and the stability of the throne.”
“So you’ve fled the country,” I stated, struggling to mask my judgment. “Left them all to deal with the fallout while you hide in Dallas?”
Remy’s eyes flashed with indignation. “Je n’ai pas fui, Ricard. I’ve come to find you.”
The implication hung in the air. “Why? What could I possibly do to help this situation?”
He leaned forward, urgency sharpening his expression. “Because I’m considering renouncing my title.”
The words hit me like a physical blow. Renunciation was almost unheard of in our family, reserved for the most radical circumstances. “Renunciation?” I repeated, disbelief creeping into my voice. “You can’t be serious.”
“I’ve never been more serious in my life,” he confirmed, and I glimpsed the truth in his eyes. “The monarchy is at a tipping point, Ricard. Father’s health is declining. The people’s faith in the institution is wavering. This scandal could be the final push into obsolescence.”
I shook my head, grappling with his drastic suggestion. “And your solution is to abandon your responsibilities? To throw away centuries of tradition because you couldn’t keep your trousers zipped?”
The crudeness surprised him, but he didn’t flinch. “My solution is to step aside for the good of the crown. To allow someone more... suitable to take my place.”
The unspoken implication was unmistakable. “Non,” I said, the word escaping before I could consider it. “Absolutely not.”
Remy’s expression softened into sympathy. “It makes sense, Ricard. You’ve always been the responsible one. The people respect you. The parliament trusts your judgment. You haven’t been tainted by scandal.”
I laughed, bitterly. “This conversation is unbelievable.”
“I’m not asking for an answer now,” he said finally. “I know it’s a shock. But I wanted you to hear it from me first, to understand before the lawyers and courtiers descend.”
I stood abruptly, the gravity of his revelation prompting me to pace toward the window. The implications cascaded through my consciousness—not merely for Remy and myself, but for Avaline, for centuries of tradition, for the delicate diplomatic balance our small nation maintained within Europe.
If Remy abdicated, everything would change. As Duke, I had enjoyed privileges of my title while maintaining a degree of privacy impossible for the heir apparent. That would vanish. “When would this happen, this abdication?”
“Ideally, soon. Before Father’s anniversary celebration. It would give the family time to present a united front and control the narrative,” he said, his tone shifting with quiet determination. “The Royal Chamberlain has already prepared the preliminary paperwork, though of course it awaits your consent and Father's approval.”
I turned to face him, struck by the calculated nature of his planning. “You’ve thought this through,” I acknowledged.
He nodded, gathering his composure. “I’ve had time to consider our options. This seems the cleanest solution. A fresh start for me, a new chapter for the monarchy under your leadership.”
“And what would you do?” I asked, my curiosity piqued. “Where would you go?”
A small smile graced his lips. “America, perhaps. Or Australia. Somewhere far from the European paparazzi, where I could start over without the crown.” He glanced at me, sincerity shining through. “I’ve always envied you that, you know. Your freedom to travel, to live more normally when you’re away from Avaline.”
All my life, I had envied Remy his position and certainty of purpose. While he had envied my anonymity and freedom.
“I don’t know what to say,” I admitted, rubbing a hand across my face. “You can’t expect me to make a decision of this magnitude in a single conversation, Remy.”
