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‘Is this one of those grown-up games like doctors and nurses? Or should I say, jailer and captive?’ Lance’s mouth twisted into a wicked smirk. ‘Though I would have thought being the jailer was moreyourstyle. Of course, for an exquisite young woman like Lise, I can see why exceptions could be made. She really is delicious company. Even I—’
‘Lance. Enough.’ Rafe’s voice was a low hiss. He stormed towards his friend and Lance threw back his head, roaring with laughter.
‘How the mighty has fallen.’ He raised his glass in a mocking toast. ‘Drop the jealous husband act. You’ve always had your life so carefully planned, pardon me if I’m not entertained by this turn of events.’
‘You know my thoughts on love.’
‘I wasn’t talking about love, were you?’ Lance cocked his head. ‘How quaint.’
‘Remind me, why are you still in the country and how can I have you deported?’
‘You’re King. Call Security.’
‘I expected you to escape after the reception, being allergic to weddings as you are.’
Lance began peering under dust covers. ‘I’ve been checking out the wildlife. It’s most distracting.’
That was the friend he knew. Lance loved women and women loved Lance, only none of them could pin him down. ‘You had something sensitive to discuss.’
‘Yes. Down to business.’ He slipped a piece of paper from the inner pocket of his suit jacket. ‘Someone wants to leave the country and can’t access their passport.’
Rafe raised his eyebrows and leaned forwards. ‘What are you up to and is it legal?’
‘Looking out for your interests, and it’s perfectly legal. You have enemies.’
‘I had enemies at school.’ Rafe snorted. ‘They’re still there, the same bullies. What’s new?’
Lance looked serious, a state of being Rafe knew his friend tried to avoid although he was a serious man deep down. His friend might have carefully cultivated the image of a rich and lazy dilettante. He was none of those things.
‘They’re consolidating. The Queen’s an unknown. People are taking sides.’
A chill ran through him. Rafe had suspected as much, though the thought that people were choosing sides already was concerning. There was a lot to do to save the economy. He needed cooperation, not frustration.
‘The little bird I’m helping doesn’t want to be used as a pawn in someone’s game. If you sign this form, I’ll have a replacement passport tomorrow and we’ll be gone.’
‘Why didn’t you ask Her Majesty, since she’s such a fine new friend?’
Lance handed Rafe the paper. Rafe looked at the name. Raised his eyebrows. ‘Sara Conrad?’
He shouldn’t be surprised. The Crown Prince had kept mistresses, even during his engagement. It was a well-kept secret, but Rafe had a way of finding these things out because knowledge was power. He wondered now whether Sara had ever loved Ferdinand, contrary to Lise’s romantic delusions about her brother’s relationship with her friend.
‘Now you know why I didn’t ask Lise. I’ll leave her to her grief, uninterrupted.’
Rafe agreed. Lise was so mired in her own sadness she mightn’t understand others moving on. ‘You and Sara?’
His friend had a reputation, which he upheld with impunity. When younger, Rafe had tried to keep up, until he’d realised it was a fruitless endeavour. Lance took things to an entirely different level.
‘You know how aristocrats do things. She fears plans are afoot to marry her off again.’ Aah. That was why Lance had helped her... The sour taint of bile rose in Rafe’s throat. No matter the truth of Sara and Ferdinand’s relationship, a woman’s fiancé had only recently been placed in the ground. That she’d be married off again disgusted him. ‘People are trying to create new allegiances. I’m helping a damsel in distress and thwarting an attempt at a power block.’
Rafe rubbed his hands over his face. Their argument in Lise’s suite, the shadows at the door. If their enemies thought there were cracks, they would hammer deeper wedges into them.
‘Have you a pen?’
Lance whipped one from his pocket. Rafe took it, scrawled his signature on the page and handed it back.
‘Thank you, my friend. Do you need me to leave so you can make peace with Lise?’ Lance downed the last of his wine and clapped Rafe on the back. ‘I’ve heard making up is half the fun of a fight.’
Rafe shook his head. ‘Dinner’s waiting and I refuse to disappoint the chef.’ Even more importantly, he wanted to hear more about the ‘whispers’ Lance claimed to overhear. Time for Lise, later. He’d eat some food, tamp down his anger. Let Lise think she’d won for tonight. But tomorrow? He was having a conversation with his wife.
