A Royal Entanglement: The Young Royals Book 2 (15 page)

My mother looked at me steadily and I feared she was reading far too much into this situation, but I couldn’t back pedal now, so I stood my ground and returned her gaze confidently and then she smiled.
 
Caroline Bingham stood and leaned in to kiss me on the cheek before walking toward the door.

“Dinner,” she said, “Thursday night.
 
It’s about time your brought your girlfriend home to meet the parents.”

“Sir,” Dayne said, coming into the office, “It’s after nine.”

I looked up from my work and blinked owlishly.
 
I had worked steadily since my mother had left and now it was dark and I had more than likely missed dinner.
 
I stretched, stifling a yawn and stood, tossing my pen on the desk.

“Time to go,” I said, grabbing my jacket from the back of my chair and slipping it on.

“I’ll have the car brought around,” Dayne said, stepping back out into his office.

I walked to the window that overlooked the lake.
 
Lights of the city reflected back at me from the calm surface of the water.
 
My eye was drawn automatically to the brightly lit Palace and I couldn’t help but wonder what Alex was doing.
 
Was she still in her office, or had she retired to her suite for the evening?
 
How had she managed the rest of the day?
 
I hadn’t even had a spare minute to call her and check that she was okay and I had forgotten to invite her to my mother’s dinner party on Thursday night.
 
I turned to pick up my phone to call her, but Dayne stepped into the room.

“The car is ready,” he said.

I nodded and followed him out.
 
As I slid into the car, I leant forward and spoke to the driver.

“Take me to the Palace,” I said.

Dayne raised an eyebrow at me and I just smiled.

“I want to see Alex,” I replied easily and he nodded and pulled out his phone to alert the Palace that we were on our way.
 
One does not simply arrive unannounced at the Palace, regardless how well-known you are.

The trip was relatively short and we were admitted to the grounds without too much fuss.
 
When my door was opened at the front steps of the Palace, Dayne tried to get out with me.

“You go home,” I said, “I will send for a car when I need a lift.”

“I don’t think you should be seen leaving the Palace in the early hours of the morning Sir,” he said cautiously.

I laughed and shook my head, “I won’t be staying the night,” I said, “It’s not that kind of visit.
 
I just want to check on her to make sure she survived the day.”

He hesitated before nodding and sliding back into the car.
 
I turned and followed a footman up the stairs and into the Palace.

“Lady Alexandra is in her suite,” the footman said as he took my coat.

“Thank you,” I said, “Is it possible to have a tray sent up, I haven’t eaten.”

“Of course, My Lord,” he said and bowed, turning away.

I made my way towards Alex’s suite, a different, silent, footman accompanying me.
 
When we reached her door, I stood back and let the servant knock and announce me.

“Lord Bingham to see you My Lady,” he said and I heard a murmured acknowledgement.

I waited, somewhat nervously, just realising that she might turn me away.
 
It was rather late at night and these were her private rooms and it would be entirely within her right to send me packing.

“You may go in, My Lord,” the footman said, stepping aside and letting me enter.

“Lord Bingham,” Alex said as she stood to greet me.

I was momentarily stunned by the sight of her.
 
I had thought I’d seen Alex in every one of her incarnations, but relaxed Alex I had never seen.
 
She wore simple linen pants and a long-sleeved t-shirt.
 
Her hair was down and curled softly around her shoulders.

“Lady Alexandra,” I said when I found my voice, “I apologise for the lateness of the hour.”

“Not at all,” she said with a soft smile, “Please, have a seat.”

I walked over to her, taking her hands in mine, and placed a gentle kiss on her cheek before sitting down in one of the over stuffed armchairs in her sitting room.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I asked for a tray to be prepared.
 
I worked through dinner and am quite famished.”

“That’s not a problem,” she said as she sat too, “I was just having a glass of wine, can I pour you one?”

I nodded and she reached for a second glass from the table beside her and poured me a generous glass of red, topping up her own glass at the same time.

I watched her as she placed the bottle back on the table seeing a slight unsteadiness to her actions.
 
When she looked at me again, I noticed a slight glazing of her eyes and I had to wonder how many glasses of wine she had already had.
 
She handed me my glass and then settled back into her chair with her own, tucking her feet under her.
 
I sipped the wine, surprised to find it was a very nice cabernet sauvignon and I closed my eyes for a moment to enjoy the complex flavour.

“Why are you here Freddie?” Alex asked, her voice soft.

I opened my eyes and looked at her carefully, “I wanted to check up on you,” I said with a shrug, “To make sure you survived the day okay and to invite you to dinner on Thursday night with my family.”

Her eyes widened alarmingly and she took a gulp of her wine.
 
She opened her mouth to answer but was cut off by a knock at the door.

“Enter,” she called.

A footman walked in with a tray of cheeses, crackers, some fruit and some crusty bread with oil and vinegar for dipping.
 
I thanked him as he sat it on the coffee table between us and he hastily made his exit.
 
I leant forward and cut some soft brie, spreading it on a cracker and popping it into my mouth, I really was hungry.

“Your parents want me to come to dinner,” she said when we were alone again.

I nodded, loading up another cracker before sitting back in my chair and taking another sip of my wine.
 
“My mother is most anxious to meet you.”

“I’ve met your mother,” she said, eyeing me over the rim of her glass.

“I pointed that out to her, but she insisted it would be different meeting you as her son’s girlfriend.”

She giggled and I stopped to stare.
 
I had never, in the six months I had known Alex, ever heard her giggle.
 
I’d heard her laugh, I’d heard her chuckle, but I’d never heard a girlish giggle escape those wonderful lips that were lightly stained by the cab-sav we were drinking.
 
I wanted to hear it again.

“Being called my girlfriend makes you laugh?” I asked before popping the cracker and brie into my mouth.

Her eyes were alight with mischief and she nodded, a grin splitting her face.
 
“It’s all so very ‘high school’ isn’t it?” she said, “I’m your girlfriend.”
 
She said the word a few times over-exaggerating the way her mouth formed the words and giggled again.
 
I was enthralled.

“Should I call you my
paramour
instead?” I asked.

Her cheeks pinked adorably and she laughed, “Definitely not,” she said.

“So what then?
 
How would your categorise our relationship?”

She stared intently at me as she thought about the answer to that question.
 
We hadn’t really had time to discuss any of the particulars of this relationship and we really needed to get our stories straight before the press started hounding us for details.

“Dangerous,” she said.

His eyes widened as I said the word. I don’t know what possessed me to say it, but it was true.
 
Getting involved with Freddie was dangerous.

“You think I’m dangerous?” he asked, surprised.

“No,” I replied and sipped my wine, although I should probably stop drinking, especially with him in the same room as me.
 
“Being in a relationship with you is dangerous.”

He put another cracker topped with brie into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully.
 
He swallowed and then sipped his wine and my eyes were drawn to the way his Adam’s apple bobbed.
 
He still had his jacket on, but he wasn’t wearing a tie and the top few buttons of his shirt were undone revealing a vee of lightly tanned skin and a hint of hair.
 
His jaw, chin and upper lip were darkened by his five o’clock shadow and his hair looked like he had been running his hands through it.
 
Whenever I’d seen Freddie in the past he had always been immaculately put together, like he had stepped off the set of a magazine shoot.
 
But I had never seen him at the end of a long day when he had relaxed his dress code.
 
I think I preferred him like this.

Our eyes caught and his darkened with something I couldn’t identify.
 
“Why is being in a relationship with me dangerous?” he asked, his voice low and husky.

“You are like the sun, Freddie,” I said, suddenly tired and melancholy, “You burn hot and bright and people look to you with awe.
 
And I am like Icarus, flying on wings of feathers and wax and doomed to fail at the hands of hubris.”