Page 26 of The Duchess Effect
It should’ve made the misfortune easier.
It didn’t.
He wished he’d had the chance to talk to her this morning. Hearing her voice helped ground him, reminded him of life beyond the Buckingham Palace gates. But she’d told him she was going to be out of touch for a couple of days. She’d text him but there was nothing like hearing her voice.
Except seeing her face.
Or having her with him.
Another glance at the closed door and he reached into his inner blazer pocket and pulled out his phone. He was ridiculous, reduced to checking her Instagram feed like some lovestruck fan.
The most recent post showed her in the cabin of a private plane, one foot—clad in black high heels, with straps that wound up and around her calf—perched on the cream-colored leather seat, a black romper molded enticingly to her curves.
His body stirred.Beautiful.And all mine.
But she was projecting Duchess instead of Dani.
She’d been hired to perform for a private birthday party in Dubai. He’d been amazed that she’d even consider traveling halfway across the world to do a few songs for a handful of people, but she’d tilted her head and said, “They’re paying me a grip! Forthreesongs. You don’t turn down that type of money... unless you’re a member of the royal family.”
When she’d told him how much an oil tycoon was willing to pay her to give a mini concert for his wife, a huge Duchess fan, he’d blinked, then promptly disagreed with her.
“Members of my family would certainly fly around the entire world for that amount of money.”
And probably had.
After the performance, she was heading back to New York for her meeting with Genesis. Between the travel, her work, the time difference, and preparation, he didn’t expect to talk to her for a few days.
He didn’t know how he’d bear it.
“Her Majesty the Queen.”
Jameson hadn’t seen his grandmother since he’d walked away from her at the tribute ball a month ago. He’d expected her to look the same as she had then. As she always did.
Imperious. Regal. No-nonsense.
Queen Marina II was still regal. She’d been the ruling monarch for more than three decades; one didn’t just lose that presence, even in the face of other emotions. She was only of average height, but with her trim figure impeccably styled and her cloud of silver hair, she always seemed taller. But she looked weary, as if she carried the weight of the entire Commonwealth on her shoulders.
The palace had recently announced the impending birth of the third in the line of succession to the British throne. What could she possibly be worried about?
He stood, as he always did when meeting with his grandmother, but instead of sitting down, she walked over and gazed up at him. Emotions darted across her features, too quick for him to discern, before she masked them. Nodding once, she ended her scrutiny.
What was that about?
He waited until she’d perched on the edge of her chair, before retaking his own seat.
“Welcome home.” Her voice was cool and measured, as if he’d imagined the moments before.
“Thank you, Your Majesty. I wish it would’ve been under better circumstances.”
“Yes, I heard, and I’m sorry.”
He didn’t respond but she must’ve read the skepticism in his narrowed eyes and pursed lips.
“I am,” she insisted. “I may not have understood your need to renounce your duties and immerse yourself in the scholarly world, but I know how much you loved it.”
He swallowed past the sudden lump in his throat. “I did.”
“It’s for the best, really. Now you can continue on as one of my Counsellors of State,” she said with finality.