Royal Indiscretion, chapter six (Patreon)

“Keep up.” Yves pushed past Doug and looked out onto the porte-cochere.

“I’m the professional athlete. Not a problem.” Doug sounded annoyed, but Yves didn’t have time to worry about his wounded ego. Far more significant problems loomed on the horizon.

Focusing on his goal, Yves dashed for the corner of the castle. Morning coats and formal shoes were not designed for running, and Yves slipped on the worn cobblestones as he detoured around a blue Volvo Polestar. Before he could fall, Doug caught him by the elbow. When Doug’s strong fingers closed around Yves’s arm, a shiver travelled up Yves’s spine. Even through his jacket, Yves felt the heat from Doug’s hand. The man was a furnace. A half second later, Doug gave a Yves a gentle push to urge him on. 

“Go!” Doug said, his voice low. Hopefully that didn’t mean the reporters were back, but Yves knew better than to turn around and look. The press got the best pictures when some guilty tosser turned to check over his shoulder. So he followed Doug’s advice and dashed for cover.

Yves led them around the east wing and into the rear of the estate, still trotting. The brisk air was making his nose run, but if that was Yves’s worst problem, he considered himself fortunate. He had a fleeting moment where he hoped they could slip back into the reception unseen, but then a figure stepped out from a servants’ entrance. Hagan.

Yves grabbed a safety rail and skidded to a stop under an overhang. He nearly fell for a second time, and embarrassingly enough, Doug caught him again. Hagan’s gaze pinned the spot where Doug caught his elbow, lasering in on that point of contact with an intense disapproval that burned Yves. “Lord Yves,” Hagan said with ice in his voice.

Yves pulled his arm away from Doug. Two words. That was all it took for Hagan to send Yves right back to being fourteen and getting caught in the kitchens with a sixteen-year-old male staff member, stealing a few clumsy touches. The same cold shame sank into his soul.  “Hagan. We were looking for Lady Anne.” Yves worked to speak slowly and steadily, even when the words wanted to tumble out.

Hagan let his gaze linger on Doug. “Were you?” Yves felt about two inches tall. There was little doubt as to what Hagan assumed was going on. The two of them were in back, panting, no doubt disheveled. A tryst was the logical conclusion, but still, Yves hated that Hagan didn’t even bother asking for an explanation.

Doug stepped up to the rail and he looked Hagan up and down. Because Hagan was standing at the top of three steps that led up into the kitchens, he had the higher ground, but Doug still managed to look bigger. Or he simply was bigger. American footballers had rather impressive physiques. “Yeah, we were,” Doug said. His accent and the added growl in his voice made him sound dangerous. “Have you seen her or are you going to stand there imitating a statue all day?”

Yves cringed. Making Hagan into an enemy was as good as antagonizing the duke himself. Before Doug could dig his grave too deep, Yves stepped in. “Hagan, this is Doug Wasso. He was trying to help me find Lady Anne. Doug, this is Hagan Jarvinen, Duke Gerard’s private secretary.” Hopefully Doug would take that as the warning Yves meant it to be. Honestly, Yves wasn’t sure how much Americans knew about the power of staff. Footballers were wealthy, so Doug likely had staff, but Yves suspected it wasn’t the same sort as a royal family employed.

Doug nodded and visibly went off-guard. However, there was still an edge in his voice. “Right, so you wouldn’t be one of the rude jerks making comments about Lady Anne’s father. Good to know. I’m sorry if I made a bad first impression.” 

“Not at all,” Hagan lied. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. If you will excuse us, I need to speak with Lord Yves.”

“I’d rather not excuse you,” Doug said. He sounded more polite now, but he definitely wasn’t backing down. Yves wasn’t sure whether to be impressed or horrified. Doug continued, “Lady Anne chased after Rudy, and now Rudy, my rental car, and the Lady Anne are all in the wind.  I’d love to be in on that discussion.”

“Excuse me? In the wind?” Hagan looked at Yves.

“Missing,” Yves translated.

The twin wrinkles between Hagan’s eyebrows deepened as he frowned. “The Lady Anne is missing?”

“She’s missing, and the reporters up front seem ready for a little character assassination,” Doug said.

Hagan’s expression vanished, leaving behind the impassive mask Yves had learned to fear growing up. “Reporters? Perhaps we should take this conversation into an office and see if someone can find the lady.” It didn’t matter if Hagan had made that sound polite; it was an order.

Yves tried to avoid the creeping resentment that made him hate Doug just a little. It was hardly Doug’s fault that Hagan chose to listen to him and not Yves. Yves couldn’t even truly blame Hagan. A long line of lies stretched out between them that would probably make Hagan distrust Yves for the rest of their lives. Yves still would have liked a little trust, at least enough for Hagan to listen to any stories before deciding to dismiss them as the product of a drug-addled mind. But the second Doug spoke, Hagan paid attention.

“I’d rather look for Lady Anne,” Doug said. “If she left with Rudy in my car, I think someone needs to call the police.”

“If that should be done, it will be,” Hagan said. “Come, quickly. If reporters have breached the perimeter, I would rather speak in private.” Hagan held the door open. He wore the implacable expression that usually meant he was ready to go into battle in defense of the royal family’s honor and name. No wonder so many of the royals had private secretaries straight out of the military. The battlefield changed, but they at least knew how to win a war.

And while Yves hadn’t done anything wrong, no doubt he would land in exile again. As long as the duke kept paying for Yves lodging, Yves shouldn’t complain. Just that morning he’d wished to go back to the northern estate and return to working in the kennels, so exile should count as a victory.

Yves didn’t feel victorious. He walked up the three steps, passing into a central utility room that attached to the side of the kitchens. Stacks of broken down boxes stood next to the door, and the smell of wet cardboard competed with the normal musk that Yves associated with the castle’s ground floor. Keeping his head high, but with a growing dread, Yves passed through the back corridors and through the kitchen to the staff offices on the other side.

Hagan had his office here, next to the smallest of the duke’s offices. This is where Yves’s father had brought Yves or Albert or even Mary when he felt a need to have a serious father-child conversation. He was always steps from Hagan, ready to turn over the details to his secretary. Duke Gerard provided the lecture about the evils of drugs; Hagan called the rehabilitation centers and tried to find a home for a wayward royal.

Yves had too many bad memories around this place. The second his father said that Nick couldn’t come, Yves should have packed his bag and walked back to the farm, if that’s what it had taken to get out of this position. Instead he was, once again, standing outside Hagan’s office feeling like a child about to get his knuckles rapped. 

When Yves reached for the familiar brass knob, Hagan passed him. “Let’s use the small study,” he said as he bypassed his own office. The music drifted down the corridor and servants hurried past, carrying food for the guests. When Yves glanced back to see if Doug was still following, he had confiscated a few hors d'oeuvres. No doubt this was amusing for him. 

Yves followed Hagan into the duke’s study and headed for the nearest wingchair. His father had always made him stand when being confronted with all the ways in which he failed as a son, so Yves needed to change the script before he lost the last threads of his sanity. As he settled into the chair, he inspected his pants for lint.

“Perhaps someone can explain what has happened,” Hagan said. He kept his gaze on Yves, but Yves didn’t have the energy to care about any of it anymore. He wasn’t sure why he ever had. Anne could take care of herself, and if she wanted to chase Rudy off the property, that was her right. Yves certainly didn’t want to see the bastard. And if Rudy chose to scam and steal from a stupid American footballer, that wasn’t Yves’s business.

After a long silence, Doug spoke up, quickly explaining how they’d ended up behind the kitchens. Yves could have tried to guide the conversation and avoid certain topics, such as Doug coming as a guest of Rudy Sava, but he sat and watched Doug wade into the quicksand without a clue in the world. Idiot.

After Doug finished the story, Hagan called an assistant in and dispatched them to find the Lady Anne, and then he turned his attention to Doug.

“How long have you known Lord Sava?”

Doug sat in the chair opposite Yves and gave him an odd look before answering Hagan. “Not long. If I had known him longer, I would have known he was the sort of man to take off in someone else’s car with their wallet and ID.”

“So you had believed him honorable up until now?” Hagan didn’t hide his skepticism. 

The inelegant snort was its own answer, but Doug followed up by saying, “No, I thought he was a spoiled kid who was using me to escape the boredom of his sad, tiny life.” Doug held up his finger and thumb an inch apart. “I was starting to think he was a manipulative ass, but I’d given my word that I would come to the reception with him. He said he needed someone to shield him from people who hated him.”

“How did he even get into the event?” Yves asked. Rudy wasn’t one of the socially acceptable peers. Up until now, Yves had assumed that Doug had spread about some of his wealth and purchased entrance to the reception, leaving Rudy as the remora fish who had tucked in close and slipped in by swimming in the shark’s shadow. The duke certainly appreciated American money, even if he was discreetly dismissive of their politics, beliefs, religions, culture, and lack of education or respect for tradition. But apparently Rudy had been the one with the invitation.

Doug shrugged. “He said he knew the groom, Jonathan.”

Yves traded looks with Hagan. Rudy knew damn near everyone at the reception, but the problem was that all of them knew exactly what sort of person Rudy was. If Rudy had conned someone into putting him on the invite list, Johnathan would have been the weak link.

That meant Johnathan’s choice of guests had been approved without proper scrutiny. Or more likely, he had slipped in a few names after Hagan had approved it. The irony of that pained Yves. Jonathan put Rudy’s name down got him in the door. Meanwhile, Yves couldn’t get Nick on the list. Nick Hanover was a sobriety coach, a well-respected dog trainer known around the world, a business owner and an ethical man, but Yves couldn’t get his name on the damn list. But drug dealing peers and oversize Americans could score a spot on the coveted guest list more easily than Yves could get oxy from someone in the kitchens.

“I’ll have security address that later,” Hagan said. He speared Doug with one of his disapproving looks. “I am more concerned that you threatened the reporters.” Of course he had focused on that part of Doug’s story. Had Yves cared enough to warn Doug about the family, he definitely would have brought up Hagan’s habit of focusing on the one detail that put a person in the worst possible light. It was like his superpower.

“You mean the ones who weren’t supposed to be on the grounds and then said crap about Lady Anne? You’re worried about them?” Doug glared right back, apparently unimpressed with Hagan’s intimidation skills. 

Hagan drew himself up like a dog puffing up in the face of a challenger to their territory. “Their behavior is unacceptable, but to have a guest threaten reporters is equally unacceptable.”

“Where I come from, we don’t let people talk about women like that?”

“And where is that?” Hagan asked. “The nineteen hundreds? I assure you, Lady Anne can defend herself.”

Doug leaned forward and spoke so softly that his words were almost lost under the music from the reception. “She shouldn’t have to. Considering how rude those reporters were, they’re lucky I didn’t punch them in the throat.”

Hagan gritted his teeth so hard his jaw muscle bulged. “If you would be kind enough to wait here, I’m going to attempt to locate the Lady Anne and your vehicle.” Without waiting for an answer, Hagan walked out, closing the heavy door behind him. When Yves had discussed worst case scenarios with his therapist, he had come uncomfortably close to this reality. Rudy had been part of that nightmare, as had this office, his aunt’s background getting thrown into her face, reporters, and an inability to reach Nick. The only parts Yves had missed were a missing world-ending meteorite and the unexpected appearance of Doug.