Royal Indiscretion, chapter 10 (Patreon)

Standing in the middle of the cavernous garage surrounded by the duke’s private collection, Yves fought down the urge to start ripping mirrors off Jaguar Roadsters and Bristols and those ridiculous looking boxy cars from the 1920s. His father had a custom building designed to fit in with the historic nature of the castle, but the interior was modern concrete and steel and classic cars. Yves had hoped his father would have allowed him to wait for Nick. After all, they both needed to return home, but Duke Gerard’s logic continued to fail him. 

“You father wishes for you to leave before the reception is over,” Hagan explained for the third time.

“Then I can go to the hotel where Nick expects to stay and wait for him there.” Yves carefully didn’t play with the cuff of his shirt, but the idea of driving for hours alone was unnerving him. He knew too many places where he could pull over and find someone to ferry drugs up to him.

“Do you really expect to escape notice?”

“I don’t care who see me.” Yves watched as a servant loaded his bags into the boot of a non-descript Skoda Octavia hatchback painted a sensible brown. No doubt his father owned it for those times he wished to avoid the press.

“Your father does,” Hagan said firmly. “You and Mr. Wasso are to leave immediately and head north. His mood is such that he will not handle it well if you defy him.”

“Your skills with the veiled threat are rusty,” Yves said.

“I was not trying to veil it,” Hagan said. “Your father is on the verge of making a precipitous decision about Mr. Hanover, and your behavior can either mitigate this risk or inflame it. I am asking you to apply common sense and do as your father asks before more people suffer.”

Yves gritted his teeth, but he couldn’t put Nick’s funding at risk because of his father’s vindictive streak. “Fine. I will go with Mr. Wasso. I assume he can then drive the car back.”

“I don’t know.” A flash of discomfort distorted Hagan’s face. “I’m sure the duke has given Mr. Wasso more details, but right now, you need to leave while the press is still focused on your sister’s reception.” As if summoned, Doug Wasso appeared at the garage door, his morning coat draped over one arm and a bored expression on his face.

“Well, I guess we’re driving buddies,” Doug said as he crossed the floor, his formal dress shoes clacking against the concrete. “Since that shit stain Sava has all my identification, I hope you don’t mind if I let you do the driving. Which car are we taking?”

Yves frowned at the insult. He prided himself in having excellent English, but clearly Americans had a wider range of profane sayings than he had known. Shit stain did seem to describe Rudy particularly well. “We’re in the brown one,” Yves said. In the entire garage, the Octavia stood out as the only one not painted in a bright color.

“Of course.” Doug sighed. “I lose my convertible and end up in Europe’s version of a Chevy Malibu. I would complain, but since I helped create this mess, I guess I’ll suck it up.” Doug headed for the car without any further complaints, and Hagan gave Yves a pointed look. If the man had thought bubbles above his head, they would, no doubt, point out that as a royal Yves should have better manners than an American. And since the American was cooperative, that put Yves in a corner in terms of etiquette. Earlier Yves had thought of Doug as rather handsome, but right now he truly resented the man.

“I expect someone to inform Nick as soon as possible,” Yves said. Since Nick’s phone was still off, he assumed the man was driving. 

“Of course, sir,” Hagan said, that veneer of respect back now that Yves had agreed to play the part of the obedient son. Yves held out his hand, and Hagan handed him a set of keys. The only good part of the day was escaping the court, but Yves resented having to leave before he could share one word with Mary. Maybe she’d seen him in the church, but he certainly had failed to provide any sort of support on this important day. 

“Tell Mary I was here and that father asked me to leave because of this ridiculous threat to my reputation.” Yves didn’t add that he desperately wanted Hagan to say he’d been sober. The last family function Yves had attended had been Albert’s wedding, and he had been unfortunately drunk. That had been the day his father had finally noticed that Yves had lost control.

Hagan reached out and gripped Yves’s arm in a clear violation of royal protocol. “I will, Lord Yves.”

Yves eyes itched as tears threatened, but Yves turned his back and headed for the car. Why had he ever hoped this could be his grand return to polite society? These people didn’t know how to forgive or forget. He got in and waited as two servants pulled the doors opened.

“Why don’t they have an automatic garage door?” Doug asked.

“It would violate the historic esthetic of the exterior,” Yves said although privately he suspected that his father had simply grown used to having the “lower” classes serve him.

Doug snorted, and that sound, while classless, did communicate rather well. However, Yves was not about to cast aspersions on his father or family in front of a stranger. As Yves pulled onto the main road, he said, “I assure you, I can function without the assistance of a babysitter.” The only reason he could image for sending Doug was to make sure Yves got home without making any unauthorized stops. Five minutes earlier, Yves had been afraid to drive alone, but knowing his father thought so little of his self-control pained him.

Doug rolled his window up and gave Yves a long and searching look. “Your vocabulary gets snottier when you’re pissed.”

That was the sort of non-answer his father offered. Yves took it without complaint from the duke, but he wasn’t about to allow a stranger to push into his life and disrespect him. “Thank you for that revelation. I will treasure the knowledge you have imparted.”

“Look, I’m not here to play babysitter.” Doug shifted in his seat before tossing his coat into the back seat.

“Reality contradicts that statement. After all, my father hired you to accompany me, and you have no training as a valet, bodyguard, chef or personal staff, so that would make you, in colloquial American terms, a babysitter.” Yves was guessing about Doug being paid, but given that he knew his father and he watched enough American television to know what they valued, he felt it was a safe bet.

“I’m not about to run around after you and wipe your nose,” Doug said without attempting to deny that he’d been hired.

“I suspect my father is more likely to have asked you to run after me and confiscate any needles.” Yves’s voice cracked as his frustration grew too much, but Doug gave him a confused look. “What? Did he fail to divulge my sordid past with drugs and alcohol?”

“I’ve read the tabloids and I can recognize someone clinging to the back of the wagon by his fingernails,” Doug said, which literally made no sense. However, Yves was not about to ask for clarification, and after a few seconds, Doug continued. “He didn’t ask me to keep you sober. I hear you have a coach for that.”

“Nick is my sponsor, and he is not your business.” Yves absolutely would not have Nick dragged into any of this. In Nick’s ideal world, he would own an island surrounded by magical thorns and he would live with his dogs like an exiled prince out of a fairy tale. The difference was that Nick would not want anyone to rescue him. Yves had learned a lot about accepting himself from Nick, and now Yves would repay him by dragging an American athlete home. It seemed like poor payment at best.

“Hey, that’s fine. If you two have a thing, I am not going to tell anyone.” Doug looked out the window at the wide sweep of wild grass, and Yves had trouble even finding his voice.

Eventually Yves said, “How dare you make those sorts of assumptions.”

Doug looked over at him, and again he had that confused frown that made him look much younger and less intimidating. “I’m not assuming anything. I’m just telling you that I’m not going to run back to your father and tell him what you’re doing.”

“Thank you so much for offering such specious assurances.” Yves gripped the car wheel.

“You really are an asshole.”

The insult shocked Yves. Occasionally Nick would make comments that were painfully truthful, but no one Yves could remember had ever openly berated him. Before Yves could even gather his wits, Doug continued.

“If you and this Nick have something going, your father has no right to know about it. Fuck, if I had everyone up in my business the way everyone seems up in yours, I would probably get violent.”

Yves gritted his teeth. “First, there is nothing to report. Nick is my sponsor and mentor. I would never threaten either of those roles by engaging in sex, and even if I were to lose my mind, as I have in the past, he is unforgivably heterosexual. Since we are going to be staying on his property, I expect you to keep any tasteless and in apropos comments to yourself. He has a right to live on his own land without having an uncouth American cast aspersions on his character.”

Strangely, Doug chuckled, which was not the reaction Yves had hoped for. “You play a mean game of defense,” Doug said. He hit the seat button and reclined the seat a little as he squirmed around.

“Excuse me?”

“Defense.” Doug waved his arm in a vaguely circular motion. “All this verbal diarrhea of yours is a pretty good line of defense, but I actually do know all those words, and I’m not going to retreat in the face of a royal shit fit.”

“Such charming language you use.”

“Yeah, well it gets the job done. I talk nicer in front of people I want to impress, but I figure you’re a man who would prefer more honesty. Or maybe I’m just sick of listening to you use that fancy education of yours to bash people.”

“Bash people?” Yves’s voice was dangerously flat. Of all the approaches he had expected Doug to take, this had not been on his list of possibilities. He had assumed, obviously incorrectly, that Duke Gerard had ordered Doug to play at being Yves’s friend, at least until Yves was safely returned to Nick’s guardianship.

“Hagan.” Doug’s voice was equally flat.

“He is my father’s secretary and well versed in how to defend himself, physically and verbally.”

Doug gave Yves an impressive side eye. “So that gives you a right to act like a shit?”

Guilt gnawed at Yves. He had been rude to Hagan, but he was not about to get schooled by someone who had threatened to punch people for annoying him. “Your language is baffling,” Yves said.

“So is the food you serve around here. Stop changing the subject and tell me what the second thing is that’s bouncing around in your head.”

“Again, you assume I am thinking anything beyond how utterly pedestrian you are.” 

“Actually, I’m assuming that since you used the word ‘first’ that you’re going to get around to a ‘second’ or maybe even a ‘third.’”

Yves felt his face warm, and he hated his pale complexion. Every time he blushed or lost the color form his face, it was like a neon sign. He envied his aunt’s complexion since it provided her some little bit of privacy. “Second, I am well aware that my father asked you to report to him regarding my actions. I can see no reason for you to agree to travel with me other than to curry favor with Duke Gerard, so don’t pretend otherwise.”

“I wasn’t going to,” Doug said with a careless shrug. “Would I like to get in the Duke’s favor? Hell yes. People around here treat me like I’m about as intelligent as a bull.”

“You do resemble one,” Yves said coldly. Maybe Doug would get the hint and ask to be let out in one of the small towns they would cross.

“I’m a quarterback. We’re the tiny guys on the field, so if you want to see what a human bull looks like, I know a couple of defensive linemen who are around three hundred pounds. They’re massive. I’m a dainty little flower compared to a lot of guys on the team. However, I also have two college degrees and a brain that functions rather well. So, yes. I do want to impress your father with the fact that my IQ is in the triple digits. That doesn’t mean I’m going to run back to him and tattle or that he asked me to. By the way, he didn’t ask me to.”

That made no sense. If Doug were lying, he should have come up with a cover story that didn’t involve the duke asking him to make the trip; however, if he were telling the truth, Yves could not imagine the duke voluntarily sitting in the same room with an American footballer. His father hated that those he considered inferior claimed salaries that even he couldn’t match. Strangely, Yves’s uncle was far less concerned. Perhaps King Alphonse had access to more money and perhaps Yves’s father was a greedy bastard. No one had ever offered to go over royal accounts with him, so Yves had no way of knowing. “I can’t see any other reason for him to make the request.”

“Then maybe I’m not the idiot in his particular car.”

“Excuse me?”

Doug grinned. “I can think of at least four reasons for asking me to go up to Nick’s place.”

Yves gritted his teeth at the audacity of calling Nick by his given name without permission. “Feel free to enlighten me. Dazzle me with your strategic thinking.”

“You have surpassed asshole and have gone on to less pleasant body parts like intestines and infected tonsils.”

“I find that I don’t care about your opinion,” Yves said as he repeated the word tonsils to himself several times. He would have to look that up when he had some privacy. If Doug’s insults were aimed at his sexuality or manliness, Yves would take great pleasure in verbally neutering him.

“Oh this is going to be a fun drive, isn’t it?” 

“You could have refused and I could have waited at the castle for Paul.” In fact, Yves believe that would have been the most reasonable course of action, which made him suspect his father’s motives for insisting on the current plan.

“Yeah, I don’t think so. The longer you stayed at that party, the more everyone was focused on you. How long do you think it would have been before Mary noticed that the father of the bride was locking himself in his office with her little brother?”

“Hagan’s office.”

Something in that finally punctured Doug’s control over his temper. “You punctilious little piss ant,” he snapped. His hands fisted on his knees, and Yves half-expected to get hit. 

He raised his chin and said in a voice reminiscent of his father’s, “One point for vocabulary. But then I must deduct one for unnecessary vulgar language.”

The muscle on the side of Doug’s jaw bulged, and Yves struggled to keep his eyes on the road more than on Doug. His hind brain screamed that he was in the car with a man powerful enough to break him in half, but then Yves had grown up surrounded by power. It had ceased to awe him. “I so want to hit you right now.”

“Feel free. That would surely impress my father.”

“I really hope you’re being sarcastic. I also hope you don’t try this shit with many men because someone is going to punch you.”

Many someones had hit Yves. Some days he would wake with a bruised cheekbone or a discolored eye and he would have no memory of who had punched him or why. “So what other brilliant tactical advantages have you considered?”

For a long time, Doug didn’t answer. Yves wondered if he regretted agreeing to the drive. Eventually he said, “The tabloids have plastered that picture of me and your aunt on their pages. Keeping me out of the way has to be at least as important as hiding you.”

“I doubt that. Lady Anne has navigated the tabloids for longer than we’ve been alive.”

“So, you don’t care if they’re smearing her name?”

“Of course I do,” Yves snapped. He’d only gone to rehab the first time because his aunt had asked him. After his mother died, she’d been the one he turned to. “Don’t presume to tell me how to feel.”

“Then shut up and listen to logic. How much time do you spend with normal people?”

“Normal?” Yves was certain he should take offense at that.

“Normal. Not royalty. People who work for a living. How often are you around those sorts of people?” Doug asked. 

“Quite a lot. For the past year I’ve lived on Nick’s ranch, and not as some pampered duke with his own staff. I clean the dog kennels every day. I am not afraid of work, so again, don’t make assumptions.” Yves was proud of how well he’d adapted to the austerity on the estate.

“I’m starting to think you’re actually stupid,” Doug said as he rubbed a hand over his face. When Yves opened his mouth to protest, Doug held up a hand. “Yeah, yeah, you’re pissed, but I’m a football player; I’m immune to hate-filled glares. I’m asking if you hang around shops or watched regular television shows or the evening news. Do you go out for dinner and talk to normal people with normal nine-to-five jobs?”

“No.”

Doug nodded, and Yves hated that his life experience clearly reinforced some stereotype he had in his head. “I don’t see the world like one of your citizens might, but I see enough to know that tensions are getting pretty thick. The world is a less safe and stable place today than it was ten years ago.”

“What does that mean?” No doubt the world powers had grown more hostile to each other, but Doug made it sound as though a zombie apocalypse were nigh. 

“The barbarians are at the gate,” Doug said in a serious tone, “or in this case, the nationalists are at the voting booths. The immigrant hate has grown, so your aunt is going to be a lightning rod. I don’t want to be the spark that sets off a fire. Your father didn’t ask me to babysit you on the way to this estate. He asked me to hide out up north until the press feeding frenzy ended.”

“Stay? At Nick’s place?” Yves didn’t even try to hide his horror. All Yves wanted was an escape from people. They were too confusing. He much preferred dogs with their clear body language and easily understood instincts. But if Doug was staying at Nick’s, it would be too much like having all the baggage of his life in the castle haunting him.

“I’m not thrilled either,” Doug said. “I was supposed to be vacationing in my convertible, showing off for a few cameras, and building my brand as an international good guy. When I came to this wedding, all I wanted was for a few reporters to photograph me in a beautiful suit as I walked into an exclusive event.”

“So you were using my sister,” Yves summarized.

“Hell yes,” Doug said without an ounce of shame. “However, I wasn’t doing anything to hurt her, and if I had known that Rudy Sava would cause this much pain, I would have punched him in the mouth and dumped him in the bushes. But now that the damage is done, I’m going to do my best to cooperate with whatever plan the duke has to protect his sister’s reputation. That means I’m going to hang out on this farm everyone waxes poetic about, and I’m not afraid to do my sharing of cleaning up dog crap. Hell, that would be preferable to sitting around the house all day. This really is the worst vacation ever.”

Doug crossed his arms and stared out the side window. Yves could have challenged Doug’s claim with a few stories from his youth. Vacations rarely ended well in his world, but he was suddenly too tired to continue to argue, so he guided the car around the curved road and tried to ignore his passenger.