Royal Indiscretion, chapters 8-9 (Patreon)

Chapter Eight 

The grandfather clock in the corner ticked away an hour of the most sustained and awkward silence Doug had ever endured until Jarvinen returned. Yves still stood at the window and his aunt had apparently given up on picking invisible lint and turned to staring at nothing. They both had mad skills when it came to avoiding emoting. They might as well be robots.

Doug was up out of his seat before Jarvinen could say a word. “Did you find my car?” While making a good impression still mattered, Doug wanted to escape. He had never endured boredom easily, and he was ready to crawl out of his own skin.

“Not yet,” Jarvinen said. “The Duke has asked to speak with you.”

Lady Anne rose to her feet. “Hagan?” Her tone had a hint of alarm.

Jarvinen inclined his head in her direction. “The Duke requests that you attend to Mary. He will rejoin the party as soon as possible.”

“And me?” Yves didn’t even turn. He stared out the window with his back so ramrod stiff that he could double as a goal upright.

“The duke suggests you pack.”

Yves turned and gave Jarvinen a contemptuous look. “Of course he does.” With that, Yves swept out of the room. The man did know how to stage a dramatic exit.

“Oh, Hagan,” Lady Anne said in a disappointed voice. If she had turned that tone on Doug, he would have withered. Jarvinen didn’t even twitch. All these people were so fucked up that Doug could hardly believe it, yet this was the cream of society—the elite. These people held the levers of power so tightly that not even money could shake their hand off. No matter which of these people Doug married, he was in for a lifetime of heartburn. No wonder so many rich people took up golf and sailing and other hobbies that required them to spend hours avoiding family.

Lady Anne gave a gentle sigh and pushed herself to her feet. “I’ll check on Mary.” She nodded in Doug’s direction and then arranged her expression into a pleasant smile before leaving.

“Follow me, please,” Jarvinen said. Before even asking if Doug was willing to meet the duke, he turned and walked out. Doug toyed with going the opposite direction, but the price would be too high. So Doug swallowed his pride and followed. Servants moved to the side as Jarvinen walked, and from the way the man never slowed, he expected as much. A pair of double doors stood propped open, and Doug followed him through the arch.

Jarvinen stopped next to a door with carved birds and ivy and hammered metal trim. Doug expected it to open with a theatrical groan since it looked about three hundred years old and three hundred pounds. Instead it glided open on silent hinges, revealing a library with shelving that rose twenty feet and tall, narrow windows. A thin man with a gray mustache sat in a leather chair.

He stood as Doug stepped into the room. “Mr. Wasso, thank you for meeting me.”

Before Doug could answer, Jarvinen backed out of the room, closing the door behind him. Clearly the duke wanted to have privacy, which worried Doug. “I’m sorry, but I don’t know how to address a duke.”

Duke Gerald’s smile didn’t reach his squinty, pale eyes. “Most would use ‘sir,’ but people have few expectations for American tourists when it comes to royal protocol.”

No way in hell would Doug call this guy ‘sir.’ Rather than get into a head-on confrontation, Doug changed the subject. “Should I be offended on behalf of my country?”

“No, not at all.” The duke settled back down into his chair. “We simply know that you fought an entire war over refusing to acknowledge royalty, so we assume you still have strong feelings about the issue.”

“If you were trying to order me around or put troops in my house against my will, I would. But it seems to me that King George’s sort of royalty vanished long ago.” A royal name opened doors and loosened purse strings. It impressed bankers and convinced those who weren’t royalty to pay a premium for any product touched by a royal, even tangentially. However, any feelings Doug had were directly related to economics, not history.

“Oh, there are a few enclaves in the Middle East, but I would agree that the day of the supreme monarchy have ended.”

Doug was not in a mood for a prolonged tap dance, so he stepped forward and cut right to the chase. “If you’re concerned about your son, Yves truly was not doing anything except trying to find his aunt. Any drama can be laid at the feed to Rudy Sava.”

Despite the fact that the duke’s expression didn’t change at all, Doug got the impression he disapproved of Rudy. Next time Doug was doing more research before taking an invitation that appeared too good to be true. “Yes, little Lord Rudolf,” Duke Gerald said in a near perfect imitation of Lady Anne’s voice from earlier.

“I want to apologize for coming with him. I thought he was spoiled and obnoxious, not… well, I don’t think I need to say what he is.” 

The duke gave Doug a condescending look. “I do not require your apology.”

“Then forgive me for asking, but what do you require?” Doug wanted to cross his arms and glare, but he restrained himself. Duke Gerard didn’t seem the sort of man to appreciate posturing.

“Why are you in Europe?”

Doug had not expected that question. “That’s not any of your business.”

Duke Gerard pressed his fingers together into a steeple. “I understand you had dinner with a number of young people a few nights ago.” Since that wasn’t a question, Doug simply waited. However, the duke stared at Doug as if waiting for an answer.

If the duke was going to be rude, Doug felt justified in returning the favor. Without being invited, he sat in the chair nearest the desk. “Rudy offered to introduce me to a few people,” Doug said.

“Did he?” The disbelief was front and center.

Doug leaned forward. “I don’t like it when people play games with me. Chalk this up to bad American manners, but I’m about to walk out of here, borrow a phone from the first person who has one, and call the police about my car. So you have one chance to say something that keeps me in this room.”

For several seconds, the duke stared. The same gray-blue eyes that made Yves alluring made the duke appear coldly robotic, but just when Doug was ready to walk out, the duke leaned back and spoke softly. “Many people want to meet royals. Some reasons are less ethical than others.”

“What are you implying?”

“Nothing.” Duke Gerard spread his hands, palms up. “I am simply observing that some people fetishize royalty. A young woman with a title becomes an object of desire. If someone wishes to prove oneself or earn the respect of others, that same young woman becomes a prize who can prop up a weak personality or hold off crippling self-doubt.”

Doug sucked air through his front teeth. Duke Gerard had misunderstood Doug’s motives in the worst possible way. No fucking way would Doug let someone assume he was so weak that he had to cling to someone with a title. “And some people recognize that wealth is not enough. Respectability in the business world requires more than a freakishly large bank account.”

“Is that what you’re after? Respectability?” The duke sounded dismissive and almost smug.

“I certainly don’t need the money,” Doug said firmly. As much as he wanted to get angry, men like this dismissed emotion. No, that wasn’t right. They degraded it. If they could get a rise out of someone, they counted it as a win. Duke Gerard reminded Doug of every owner or lawyer he’d ever sat across the negotiating table from. 

“Really?” Gerard leaned back in his chair.

Doug crossed his left foot over his right and rested a hand on his left knee. “My contracts are public records. I’m sure you’ve looked them up, but I can also assure you that I have more money in the bank than the owners have paid me. I’ve put my money and my business degrees to work. So if I’m looking for something here in Europe, it’s not because I suffer one ounce of self-doubt.” Doug stared at Gerard, daring him to repeat that insult. While Doug wasn’t the highest paid quarterback in the league, he had earned forty eight million in salary and he had another guaranteed thirty four million coming his way in the next two years. That didn’t even count the endorsements. The money was obscene. And unlike the other players, Doug didn’t spend it.

He lived in a studio apartment, drove a ten year old car, and bummed rides off players who owned private jets when he wanted to get away. He spent money where it counted—suits and stock options and agents.

“Does Elodie Alba provide what you’re looking for?” Duke Gerard asked. The condescension was gone, and now he studied Doug with a far more predatory eye. The bastard definitely wanted something.

Doug gave a small shrug. “I’m looking for respectability—not a father-in-law who would turn every encounter into a new drama for the tabloids.”

Duke Gerard pursed his lips tapped his fingers together like a Bond villain.

Trying for a carefree and easy tone, Doug said, “I assume you have some reason for caring about any of this? You certainly don’t seem the type to threaten me if I don’t get out of your country and stop sniffing around the women.”

Now Gerard actually smiled. The corners of his eyes crinkled and Doug saw a pale imitation of Yves’s beauty. “Perhaps Americans are not taught this, but speculating on the motives of others is exceptionally rude.”

“We actually aren’t taught that. We are taught that if someone requests us to come to a private meeting, they want something, and those who want favors should avoid alienating others.”

The duke laughed before rising and striding over to an antique cabinet. “You are refreshingly blunt. I suppose that is the advantage of your upbringing.”

“What? As a rude American or as the child of a convict?”

After the duke opened the ornately carved doors to reveal a liquor cabinet, he turned and gave Doug an amused look. “Both.”

Doug shrugged. “Could be.” He was starting to understand by Yves had so many issues. “I still don’t know what you want.”

“World peace, and end to American hegemony, and some common sense in the younger generation.” He turned back to the cabinet and poured two drinks. “I fear I live to be disappointed.”

“Listening to a royal complain about hegemonies is more irony than I can take in a day, so how about we move this conversation along?”

Duke Gerard moved to the wing chair next to Doug and sat before offering a tumble of amber liquor. “I could provide what you need.”

“If you’re trying to pimp out Elodie, I’ll pass.”

“I will admit a certain ignorance in regards to your colloquial use of the English language. I assume you asking whether I’m making an improper suggestion, and I assure you, I am not. What I can do is offer introductions. There are families who possess respect and a certain social cachet in quantities that far exceed their financial resources.”

Doug swirled his glass until the liquor danced up to the edge as he wondered who had taught all these people to speak English. He had studied hard to earn a high enough score on his GRE to break through the disdain graduate level professors held for the football team. He’d taped notecards with neatly printed block text all over his dorm room. Quiescence. Polemic. Nadir. Truculent. No one Doug knew used those sorts of words, but getting into the graduate program he wanted required him to fling bullshit. So he had. 

But these people all talked like they’d bathed in GRE vocabulary that morning. He wondered if they sounded just as snobby in their own language.

“So, you’re willing to get me what I want?”

Duke Gerard offered up a wide smile. “I am willing to help a peer avoid an impecunious fate. You have money and clearly have more financial and practical good sense than I had expected from an American footballer. They have the connections to smooth your way. I can even guide you toward one or two families who would be far more amenable than the Albas.”

Now Doug knew the duke had looked him up. Not only did that explain why the duke’s toadie had taken an hour before returning, but it would account for the duke’s attitude. Doug had looked like a good bet on paper, and he had wanted a face-to-face meeting to judge for himself. “What do you want?”

Duke Gerard balanced his glass on his knee. “To save my son.”

Chapter Nine

Doug had to deliberately close his mouth, which had fallen open. Of all the possible responses he’d considered, that hadn’t even been on his radar. “Which son? Yves?”

“I only have three children, of which you have met only one.”

That still didn’t answer the question. “So, Yves then?” Doug asked again. Because he could not imagine a man less in need of a rescue. Sure he was damaged. But Doug figured there were two types of people in the world—those that admitted their damage and those that hid it. He had a lot more faith in the ability of the former to survive. 

“Yes.” Duke Gerard sounded a little grumpy now.

Doug took a deep breath and planned his next words. He didn’t want to anger a powerful man, but the puzzle pieces were not fitting together. “I don’t think he needs that much saving. Yves is a strong man who knows what he wants.” Or in the case of drugs, what he didn’t want. Two minutes into meeting him, Doug knew that much.

“Do you truly believe you know him so well?”

“Do you?” Doug asked. A thundercloud passed over the duke’s features, and Doug held up a placating hand. “No offense, but our families often know us least. They remember the people we used to be, so I’m serious when I ask if you know who he is now.”

The anger seemed to drain from Duke Gerard. “I wish I knew him better,” he admitted. “Sometimes life prevents a father from reaching out to his son, even when he desires it more than life.” Apparently now the duke was poking Doug’s daddy issues. Unfortunately for him, Doug had stopped caring about his father one way or another years ago.

“You know, I’m not following this conversation very well, so if you want something from me, you’re going to have to connect a few more dots.”

“Connect a few dots. That’s an interesting metaphor,” the Duke said, and now Doug knew the man was stalling. Either he didn’t how to broach a subject or he was gauging Doug’s reactions. Doug disliked both options. But his curiosity wouldn’t allow him to walk away, so he leaned back and kept his face impassive. The grandfather clock ticked the seconds, the shiny pendulum swinging in stately arcs.

“You protected Yves from the reporters. Why?”

Doug didn’t react, but that should have been obvious. The fact that Gerard had to ask about why Doug had acted like a decent human being said a lot about his world. “He needed help.”

“He did,” Gerard said. He shifted in his chair and studied Doug. “My son struggles.”

“That’s why most people turn to drugs. No one gets hooked because life is going so well.” 

“Life will never go well for him because of his titles and position. He is not built to live in the spotlight of others’ gazes.” 

Doug understood that too well. He knew his own image was an asset, just like his bank account. So he cultivated an illusion. He smiled and flexed for the cameras, took his shirt off while building homes for the poor and shook more hands than he could count. None of that was him, and every story the paparazzi wrote made Doug feel a little more invisible. However, he controlled his image and that power gave him an infinite ability to endure. He suspected Yves did not have that advantage, but none of that explained why the duke was telling him this.

Duke Gerard sighed and put his glass on the ornate side table that sat between the chairs. “I want to help my son.”

Doug nodded and gestured for the duke to continue. Eventually the man would have to get around to what he wanted.

Instead, the duke went off on another tangent. “My brother has no children. When the king dies, I will be next in line for the throne, and then Yves will be under even more scrutiny.”

“Okay.” Doug let his voice trail off.

“He would be much happier staying on the northern estates.” Northern estates. They were already pretty damn north, but Doug had to assume he didn’t mean Siberia or the North Pole. Hopefully.

“Again, okay.”

The duke shifted so he sat on the edge of his chair and faced Doug. “If the story Hagan has told is true, Yves appears to trust you. That is a privilege I lost long ago, and I need help to get my son to make a logical choice.”

“What choice is that?” Doug waited for the secret decoder ring that would make sense of this conversation.

Duke Gerard stared at Doug and the grandfather clock ticked and the distant music of the wedding reception drifted through the walls. After long minutes, Gerard said, “He needs to give up his titles.”

Doug knew very little about royalty or titles or any of the trappings of this world, but the very tone of voice the duke used sounded like it should have its own dramatic theme music. Clearly he felt it was a big deal.

“How would that help?” Doug asked.

“As long as he is a count and a lord, the press will hound him. He will never have peace and sooner or later, he will turn back to drugs and drinking.” The bitterness in the duke’s voice suggested that the man had very little faith in his son. Maybe some of Doug’s disapproval showed on his face because the duke added, “The outcome is not in doubt, only the timeline.”

“Would any of that change if he gave up his titles? He would still be the king’s nephew, or if your brother dies, the king’s son.” Doug suspected he was an asshole because the idea that a future king wanted a favor made his cold heart beat a little faster. The opportunities this sort of connection could provide were endless. 

However, he didn’t see what sort of favor he could do. He certainly couldn’t march to whatever corner of the castle the young lordling was staying in and demand that he give up his title. And if Doug lost his mind and tried that, Yves wouldn’t listen. Maybe he had a fragility to him, but he was brittle steel. He might shatter, but he was not soft and malleable. Either Doug had badly misread the man or his father was an imbecile for not understanding Yves.

“But he wouldn’t be in line for the throne. He wouldn’t be a public figure, and the press would not have the legal right to harass him the way they do now.” Gerard took a drink and then hesitated before adding, “His uncle has hired security to prevent the press from gaining access to the estate where Yves is staying, but were Yves not a member of the royal family, a court order would be enough to give him the privacy he craves.”

“If the security works, why change?”

“Because my brother cannot justify the cost of it indefinitely,” the duke snapped. He took a deep breath and then continued. “As you said, royalty today has far less power than those historic kings. If I take the throne, I will be under even more pressure to stop the royal estate from hemorrhaging money. The Parliament will want that security stopped, and I will not have the ability to call in favors as my brother has. If I were to die first, and Yves brother took the throne, Yves would be even more exposed to the vagaries of court politics.” Gerard swallowed the last of his liquor. 

“So they’d leave him out to dry.”

The duke gave a joyless laugh. “Inevitably.”

“They’re assholes.”

“While I disapprove of the specific language, if I understand your intent correctly, I agree in theory. That is why I’m asking a favor.” Duke Gerard stood and looked down at Doug. “For someone who will help me save my son, I am willing to provide the very favor you seek. In my world, respectability is common enough to be pedestrian and power is, if not common, certainly not rare.”

“But you people don’t have the access to wealth.”

“No one has offered to pay twenty million a year to watch me work, and quite frankly, were they to make that offer, it would barely cover the costs of running my estate. Facilities must be updated, grounds maintained, taxes paid, servants hired, goods purchased.”

Doug pressed his lips together before he could lose his mind and point out at least a dozen places where he’d seen money wasted. He didn’t exactly practice fiscal good sense. However, to inch closer to his goal, Doug would manfully avoid pointing out the obvious.

“I would like to help you. I respect that you are trying to find your son an exit before the world crashes down around his ears, but I don’t know what you think I can do. I’m not his bosom friend. Have you tried talking to him about your concerns?”

Duke Gerard retreated to the tall window. “My son assumes that any concern of mine is either invalid or an area of vulnerability which he then exploits by doing the opposite of whatever I ask of him.”

While Doug would never say it out loud, Gerard did come off like an ass, and people often liked annoying assholes. However, he was a titled ass with access to the exact resource Doug wanted, so he kept his face bland. “How can I help?”

Gerard continued to look out the window. “Befriend him. Talk to him. You are a stranger who took his side, so you are uniquely placed to encourage a thread of common sense.” Duke Gerard turned toward Doug. “How long are you planning on staying in Europe?”

Doug ran a finger across the edge of his glass. No doubt the duke knew every detail of Doug’s travel plans, including the date his visa expired. Either he wanted to judge Doug’s honesty or he was curious about how much time Doug was willing to invest in this game. Since Rudy was worse than useless when it came to introducing Doug to respectable families, Doug needed a backup plan. If the duke’s gratitude paid off, this could be Doug’s ticket into the world of real power.

He stood and put his glass on the table next to the duke’s. “I have seventeen days before my visa runs out, thirty four before I have to report to pre-season training on July 13th.”

Gerard nodded, a small smile in place. “The favor I would ask of you is this: volunteer to ride with my son back to the northern estate and stay there. Befriend him. Talk to him.”

For a second, Doug couldn’t find words. That was a dumb plan, and Gerard did not strike him as a stupid person. “What excuse could I give him? Again, we aren’t friends. I can’t just invite myself back to his place.”

“It is not his place,” Duke Gerard said. “Nick Hanover trains dogs, including those used by the royal estates for security. He owns the animals and equipment. The crown owns the land. Yves owns nothing. When Yves struggled to maintain his sobriety, the king asked Mr. Hanover to take Yves in.”

That seemed unnecessarily harsh and evasive. “I don’t care who owns it. I have no reason to go up there.”

Gerard turned. “Tell him you want to avoid the onslaught of paparazzi you are likely to encounter if you return to your hotel. After all, the photograph of you and the Lady Anne is rather damning. If you prefer, tell him that I requested you stay out of sight until the press has another victim for their malice. No doubt whatever you tell him, he will assume I am manipulating his life, so let him assume as much.”

That was generous of him, especially considering that Gerard was trying to manipulate his son. “When would I have to make up my mind?” Doug asked. He really should call his agent and see if any of this was likely to cause a ripple with his sponsors. 

While being linked to a royal or even a royal scandal should improve his market value, Doug didn’t know the Stenbock family well enough to trust his own gut. For all he knew, they had a history of collaborating with Nazis and the current royals refused to return art stolen from Jewish families. Doug might envy their social standing and the respect they commanded, but he never confused position with morality.

“I have directed Hagan to have Yves ready to leave within thirty minutes. When Mr. Hanover appears, the Lady Anne will explain the situation and he will follow behind you.”

Duke Gerard was assuming Doug would cooperate, but given the advantages of doing so, it made sense. He could slip in a quick phone call and still meet the duke’s timeline. “I need someone to go to my hotel and retrieve my bag. Should I call the hotel and give verbal permission for someone to get into my room?”

“Have you secured anything in the hotel’s safe?”

“No. I only brought clothes.”

“I will have Hagan arrange the details; no permission is needed.” 

“I underestimated how cold it would be, so I need someone to buy me a few long sleeved shirts and I absolutely must get that car back from Rudy and my identification out of the locked glove compartment.”

Duke Gerard strode to his desk and started writing out a list before his butt even hit the chair. Doug settled back into the visitor’s chair. “I also want to make one thing clear,” he said firmly.

The duke looked up.  

“When you make any introductions, I am not looking for a love match. I don’t need excitement or adventure or attention from the press or anyone else. I want respect, and I will give respect in return. I’m looking for a practical and mutually beneficial marriage.”

Duke Gerard slowly tilted his head. “You surprise me, Mr. Wasso.”

“I hope in a pleasant way.”

“Very much so. I believe I have put my son’s future in the right hands.”