“There is nothing to discuss,” Richard said. “The last time I checked, it’s completely acceptable to have dinner with whomever I like.”
Eleanor picked up her own copy of the Evening Standard and peered at the photo they’d run of Jane. She was attractive in an earthy way, and was apparently an accomplished equestrian. She’d also been nicknamed Pain Jane for the amount that men and women alike were drawn to her despite their other attachments.
“She’s always been trouble,” Eleanor said. “Didn’t her previous husband work for Putin?”
Richard rolled his eyes. “No, Mother,” he said. “Pucci.”
Eleanor shrugged as if this were mostly the same thing.
Richard stood up. “I cannot believe you’re angry about my having dinner with an old friend,” he said. “This is controlling even for you.”
“She’s an addict. She can’t help but shop,” Eleanor snapped. “It’s one thing to socialize with her at an event, but this cozy public dinner, then taking her home with you? Ending up in the paper? It’s unbecoming.”
Nick flinched with his whole body. I found myself pretending to be entranced by a figurine of a shepherdess on the side table to my right.
“Unbecoming?” Richard echoed. “I’ve never done anything unbecoming in public in my life. I never even tried to remarry because you said it was inappropriate with the boys so young. Then you said it was inappropriate after we told the truth about Emma. Then you told me it was inappropriate after the wedding, when Christiane was supporting me during the trauma this one caused.” He pointed at me.
“The Greek monarchy disgraced itself,” Eleanor sniffed. “You can’t be part of that.”
“And now Christiane is engaged to be married to that prat who keeps saying he’s descended from Napoleon, and I”—and here, he had the good grace to look melancholy—“am still married to a woman who hasn’t spoken to me or recognized my face for half my life.”
“You said it, Richard,” Eleanor said. “You are still married.”
“Then let me divorce.”
“Never,” Eleanor said.
“Gran—” Nick interjected.
“Absolutely not.”
“Twenty-five years without a partner,” Richard said, “is a bloody long time, Mother, and I think the public might support me. Did you ever think of that?”
Eleanor sighed deeply and pressed on her closed eyelids. “The public,” she said slowly, “does not want its future king drooling around the singles scene like a bulldog in heat. It invites scrutiny, and it will diminish the monarchy if you have an active personal life playing out in front of them like a tawdry little television drama.”
Richard’s color was high. “You would prefer I had flings in dark corners? You are colder than I thought.”
“What you do in private is your affair,” Eleanor said. “Carrying on in public…”
“Dinner is not carrying on,” Richard said, an octave higher than usual. “Why are you doing this? Is it because you’re bitter that you’ve lived so long without affection, and so you’re consigning me to the same fate? Well, congratulations. You wore the crown alone. Let me know when history gives you a medal for that.” He angrily buttoned his blazer. “But I’m not a priest. And I’m certainly not celibate. You may not have needs, but I do.”
“Please no,” Nick muttered.
“Neediness is a fatal flaw,” Eleanor said stubbornly.
“I have always done what you’ve asked. And all it’s ever brought me is more demands. I’m tired of it,” Richard said. “Go bother Agatha about using Tinder to date half this town, and leave me alone.”
And with that, he stormed out and slammed the door.
“My word,” Eleanor said. “I thought sixty was past the adolescent tantrum stage.” She pushed a minute silver bell wired to the coffee table. “I need a glass of wine, don’t you?”
“Gran, perhaps he’s right,” Nick said.
She fixed an eye on Nick. “You want him to divorce your poor mother?”
“Please don’t use her mental state against me,” Nick warned. “She’ll be my mother forever, but she hasn’t been his wife in a long time.”
The door opened. Eleanor held up a hand to Nick as two footmen rolled in a square dining table outfitted with three silver-domed place settings. They lifted the cloches to reveal three individual shepherd’s pies in ceramic ramekins.
“What, no sushi?” Eleanor sang at the footmen, who both looked alarmed, because this was the absolute first they’d heard about it. “Ah well, this will do nicely, thank you ever so much.”
Nick and I exchanged small grins, which we smothered when Eleanor turned her attention back to us and picked up her delicate gold fork.
“And you two,” she said. “How are you?”
“We’re great,” Nick said, scooping some mashed potato and meat into his mouth.
“Super,” I added. “I got a weighted blanket and I’ve never slept better. I feel so rested.”
“You do look good,” Eleanor said. “Glowing, even.”
“New face serum.” I swallowed my bread with an innocent smile. “I’m really racking up my Boots points.”
Eleanor blew out a breath through her nose. “Why is everyone being so recalcitrant with me today?” she said. “Are you pregnant or not?”
“Gran!” Nick said. I could tell he was trying not to laugh.
“What?” she said, a look of studied innocence on her face. “I’ve a vested interest in this, especially now that you’ve taken my suggestion regarding Frederick.”
“He has the biggest mouth. I can’t believe he told you that!” I said, dropping my fork with a clatter.
“He didn’t,” Eleanor said, dabbing at her lips with a cloth napkin. “But you just did. Goodness, you’re a bad secret keeper, Rebecca.”
“I don’t know about that,” I said, “considering I kept almost my whole first trimester from you.”
Eleanor pointed her fork at me. “Don’t you dare toy with me, Rebecca. I am an elderly woman.”
“And strong as oak,” I said. “But you can exhale. It’s true.”
Eleanor set down her fork and beamed at us. “Congratulations, my darling,” she said, the picture of sincere delight, relief, and self-satisfaction. “I knew we could do it.”
“And how,” I said. “We got a real bargain. Two for the price of one.”
She froze. “Twins?”
“Surprise.” I could barely contain my glee. “Didn’t expect that,
