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“Most of them. Some were hung in Buckingham Palace when I was growing up.”
An oil portrait of the queen and Julian—her sitting on a red velvet chair, wearing an elaborate crown, while he stood slightly behind her in full royal regalia—held a solo spot on a prominent wall.
“In case you were still confused about who’s next in line,” Dani whispered.
They strolled along arm in arm, looking at the other offerings. There was a photograph of Princess Catherine in her early twenties, at what looked like an official event.
“That’s a beautiful picture,” Dani said.
Catherine was listening to someone, and people were gazing at her, their admiration and respect clear and freely offered.
There weren’t any candid shots of Princess Bettina. Most of hersolo portraits were official ones where she was posed, her expression serious, but bored.
Dani stopped to examine several black-and-white photos of the entire family from decades past, including one where the queen was sitting on a settee surrounded by her entire family. It stood out because it was oddly casual and came close to giving off a “Royals! They’re just like us!” vibe.
From the corner of her eye, Dani caught sight of a face that was startlingly familiar, and she moved toward it, drawn. Jameson tensed, but he didn’t stop her.
And then there it was, an extremely large portrait of a breathtakingly handsome man. Golden blond hair that curled ever so perfectly over his brow. Bright blue eyes, ringed with lines, that proved he smiled often. A clean-shaven square jaw softened in amusement. The subject was glancing away from the viewer and had been caught mid-laughter. It was as if Jameson had donned a wig... and an air of cavalierness.
“Is that—?”
“Prince Richard John Alastair Lloyd. My father.”
“Wow.”
“He did tend to have that effect on women.”
“How can you blame them? Look at him.”
“I have,” he said.
“You look a lot like him.”
“So they say.”
The bitterness in his voice finally penetrated.
Oh.
It wasn’t Prince Richard that she was enamored of. It was the parts of Jameson she saw in hi—
The flicker of a flash bounced off the portrait.
Dani glanced around. They were the center of attention. And at that moment, hundreds of pictures were being taken of the two of them. Of Jameson staring up at his father with the bitterest of expressions on his face.
Jay would hate the idea of the media, once again, witnessing then feeding off his pain and vulnerability.
“Tell me something you loved about your father.”
His head jerked back. “Excuse me?”
“You’ve always focused on the bad things he did. But he was your father. There must’ve been some good things about him.”
He pinched his lips together and glared up at the painting.
“Many people found him funny and charming. Particularly women.”
Well shit, that didn’t help.If anything, the scowl made him look downright hostile.
