His Royal Favorite Read Free Page B

time. He looked like a man who belonged there. Probably Ben would laugh at the idea that confidence could be borrowed from a fine coat and tie, but here he was, back to his usual bold self, and all it had taken was a little polish. With a smile, James said, “You look wonderful.”
    Ben pointed to Paulson. “Thank the miracle worker.”
    “Hardly, sir,” Paulson said. “Not many men these days are comfortable in a double-breasted suit, but you’ve exactly the build for it.”
    The suit was dark blue, and it outlined Ben’s body perfectly. James didn’t even see any areas where custom tailoring would improve the fit. Paulson had chosen a paler blue shirt and charcoal-gray tie that softened the look. Even the shoes were perfect, buffed to a polish without being so bright as to betray their newness.
    “You outdid yourself pulling this together on such short notice,” James said to Paulson. “Thank you.”
    “My pleasure, Your Royal Highness.” With that, Paulson came to re-knot James’s necktie. No matter how well James thought he’d done it, Paulson always did it over, and better.
    As Paulson worked, James glanced over at Ben. Ben, in turn, was looking at his reflection in the nearest mirror. Most men were unflatteringly broadened by a double-breasted coat, but Ben’s suit outlined his trim-waisted, broad-chested form with all the flair of an Edwardian gent. However, Ben didn’t seem impressed by how dashing he looked. Instead his expression seemed concerned, almost confused. As though he didn’t recognize the man in the mirror.
    Oh, God
, James thought, but he buried that surge of panic, buried it deeply and fast. With the meeting at Buckingham Palace, he had enough to be afraid about already.
    ***
    They made it through the palace gates, through the doors, side by side. But as they went toward the sitting room, footman a few steps ahead, James put his hand out in front of Ben’s torso. “You have to hang back a bit.”
    “I’m not afraid,” Ben said in a low voice that was half a growl.
    “Of course you aren’t.” He was so much braver than James had ever dreamed. “But we’re on royal protocol now, and I take precedence.”
    “They worry about that even here, when nobody’s watching?”
    “They haven’t got much else to worry about.” James had often thought that his family’s prickliness about matters of etiquette was much like the old joke about feuds in academia: People fought so fiercely precisely because so little of substance was at stake.
    The doors to the sitting room were pushed open. A booming voice announced, “His Royal Highness the Prince Regent, and Mr. Benjamin Dahan.”
    All day James had been hyperaware of Ben—alternately thrilled by his presence or worried he’d still take it all back. Now even that faded. There was no room in his mind for anything but this moment, the first time he had ever stood before his entire family as his true self.
    They were seated in a cluster near the enormous fireplace; oil paintings of monarchs from the past three hundred years hung on the wall, past generations staring in shared disapproval. The queen had, as usual, taken the place nearest the fire. She sat so regally straight, her face so stolid, that he was reminded of the photos of her long-ago coronation. His cousins sat on the long couch beside her, lined up like ducklings and about as likely to say anything of use. More promising, by far, was the fact that Nicholas had lived up to his word. His cheeks sported a day’s worth of stubble, and he wore an RAF coverall, but he’d come. Nicholas was the only one who smiled when James entered the room.
    And Indigo had made it. She looked terrible, pale and drawn. She’d probably slept even less than he had since he told her he wanted to come out. Obviously she’d let her maid pick out her clothing, one of the prim, lacy dresses that suited her so poorly but fit the part of the “perfect princess.”
    Just behind the queen stood Prince