Page 66 of Cross Me

“Yes,” Edward said encouragingly. I dared to open my eyes. But where Edward’s face was blank, Clara’s eyes had widened.

She knew. Somehow she knew. She didn’t speak and we both waited, frozen in horrified realization, until Edward coughed.

“Is this some weird married thing I have to look forward to? Do you read each other’s minds now?”

This time there was no laughter. Clara didn’t even crack a smile. Edward reached a hand out to her and she grabbed it like he’d offered her a life preserver.

“Who is it, X?” she whispered. Edward had faded from the room. It was only her, waiting for me to say what we both already knew. A name. But not that of the stranger she’d expected.

How had she figured it out?

“She worked on the staff and then moved outside London to give birth. She’s lived there with her son—our brother—ever since. Her name is Rachel and her son’s name is—”

But Clara stole the name from my lips. “Anderson Stone.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CLARA

Going to cry at my best friend’s house used to involve a smaller security detail. I’d taken Elizabeth with me, though. Even I had to admit that warranted more concern. Someday, my baby would take the crown her father wore. It was a heavy responsibility, not only protecting her now, but also figuring out how to give her as normal a life as possible. That was something Alexander had never had, which was why we were in this mess now.

For the moment, I needed to sort through the mess in my brain, and I couldn’t do it alone. I wasn’t sure what I was going to tell Belle. Somehow the truth seemed so strange I didn’t know where to begin.

“We’ll be out here,” Norris assured me as I did my best to avoid the photographers that had arrived shortly after us and had set up camp across the street. They tailed us from Buckingham. I knew Norris had it under control, and I was grateful he was here. Alexander had insisted when I’d told him I wanted to see Belle this morning. I’d agreed, which was pretty much where our conversation had ended.

It wasn’t that I wasn’t speaking to him, but rather that I was avoiding him. I’d listened to his rationale and half-hearted excuses when he’d told us the truth the night before. But none of it accounted for why he’d continued to keep the truth from me. I needed to clear my head and talk it through.

Belle pried open the door and shooed me inside, flipping off the photographers for good measure.

“They’re going to love that,” I said, shifting Elizabeth to my other hip and dropping my diaper bag in the foyer. It was getting harder to maneuver her with her little brother or sister growing so quickly.

“One of us has to behave, and thankfully it’s not me.” She held out her hands, and I passed Elizabeth over. She grabbed Belle’s face and giggled in approval. Belle put on a sing-song voice that didn’t mesh with the women who’d just flipped the Vs at a dozen paparazzi. “Uncle Smith is ready for your play date.”

“Smith is home?” I hadn’t expected that. Then again, I’d never been exactly clear on what he did.

“He’s retired from law and become a proper gentleman,” she informed us, still cooing at Elizabeth.

“Did I hear you call me a gentleman?” Smith asked distastefully as we entered the parlor. He was lying on the floor, surrounded by cushions. He pushed up from the ground, displaying impressive biceps that strained against his t-shirt. So that was what Belle saw in him.

“In all the ways that count to anyone but your wife,” she told him reassuringly.

“Good. Don’t sully my reputation.” He gave her—what seemed to me—a rather chaste kiss on the cheek. Belle held out Elizabeth and he hesitated, turning to me. “May I? Belle said you two needed to talk.”

“Of course.” I swallowed back my anxiety. There had always been a dangerous edge to Smith Price, but if Belle had chosen him, I trusted him.

Elizabeth studied her new handler before smacking him on the nose.

“Lizzie!” I said, unsure whether there was a point to reprimanding her at this age, but feeling compelled to do so. Smith only laughed.

Looking around, I realized that he’d arranged a cluster of pillows into a makeshift baby fortress. He waved us off. “Go talk. I’ll call up if I need you.”

“Is he going to be okay with her?” I asked, my nerves showing themselves.

“He’s been dying to practice since we found out we’re expecting. It’s adorable, really,” she whispered as we headed up the stairs. Her eyes moved wistfully toward the first floor, but she shook herself as if clearing cobwebs from her brain. “Office or bedroom?”

“It doesn’t matter.” I just needed to talk. I didn’t need a prime location.

She surveyed me for a moment. “Bedroom. I think the office will stress you out.”