Royal Indiscretion, chapter 23 (Patreon)

Yves stared at the car contemplating his ability to guide 1400 kilograms of steel around obstacles, some of which were flesh and blood. “I need a drink,” he said flatly.

Doug grabbed him by the arm. “Oh, hell no.”

Two guards turned to watch them, and any number of lawmakers gathered in the first floor courtyard were probably watching as well. Some were probably taking cell phone videos. Yves expected he would be in the gossip news tomorrow.

“Oh, hell yes,” he said, even as Doug manhandled him toward the car. “And I need something to smoke.”

Doug practically shoved him into the passenger side seat of the car. Yves blinked, not sure why he’d allowed Doug such liberties. However, he didn’t have the strength to protest, even as Doug got in behind the wheel. Doug started the car before saying, “You’re not talking tobacco, are you?”

“I am not.” Yves was not even sure marijuana would be enough. Not today.

Doug backed out of the space and headed toward the exit. “Then let me be very clear. You are not touching anything narcotic, mind-altering, or emotionally numbing. I can drive you home so you can hug a dog or talk to that crusty old dude you like. I can take you somewhere that you can stare out at the sea and if my ankle was better, I would offer to take you for a run. So that’s your coping menu. Pick a strategy.”

“Fuck you,” Yves snapped. “You are such an arrogant shit. You don’t get to tell me what to do. You do not get to be that disrespectful to King Alphonse and Queen Fenella. You don’t do that.”

“Well I do. I am arrogant,” Doug said. The bastard was utterly calm in his declaration. “Your family thinks they can get away with anything. And they put you in the middle.”

“King Joachim didn’t want me to suffer.”

“King Joachim raised a murderer and then covered up so Gerard didn’t have to take responsibility. And now that asshole is about to be the new king, so don’t tell me this isn’t a complete fucking disaster on multiple fronts. And you are not going to fall off the wagon because of that bastard.”

They were stopped, waiting for a break in the traffic, and Yves toyed with the idea of jumping out of the car and walking back to the castle. However, that would involve talking to the king and queen—a fate he dearly hoped to avoid for now. He decided to deal with Doug instead. “You do not get to tell me how to feel about this.”

“No, I don’t. I’m not trying to,” Doug said, which took some of the wind out of Yves’s sails. “I’m just telling you that you’re not going to give up your sobriety over this.”

Yves stared out at the gray sky. “I really think I am.”

“Then Duke Gerard wins.”

A flash of anger swallowed Yves and then faded so fast that he was left feeling like a dead fish. A dead boneless fish. “Go to hell.”

“Not before your father goes there. And you’re not going to let him win.” Doug pulled out into traffic.

Yves gave a rough laugh. “He already has. He killed my mother.” Saying that out loud sounded… final. Real. Unforgiveable. “I don’t even know who she was.” Yves frowned. Why hadn’t he asked his uncle that question? He didn’t even know where she was buried.

“Do you want to go back and ask?” Doug asked. He sounded surprisingly willing to do that, especially considering that the king and queen were probably not fans of his. If Doug was wise, he would avoid ever meeting them again.

“No. Oh lord. No,” Yves said firmly. “I can’t face them. They knew. All these years, they knew.”

“They suck.” Doug changed lanes quickly enough that another driver honked at him.

“How can I forgive them?” Yves hated that his tone sounded so fucking lost.

Doug clenched his teeth for a second. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“Which is why I need a drink.”

“Not a chance.” Doug’s anger made Yves intensely uncomfortable.

“This isn’t your business. In fact, you’re very annoying.”

“It’s a talent.” Doug flashed him a grin.

“I can’t—” Yves had to swallow a surge of emotions that nearly buried him.

After several long minutes of silence, Doug asked, “You can’t what?”

Yves shook his head. “I can’t finish my sentence because I have too many things I cannot. As much as it pains me to say, I don’t think this is the time to consider renovations at my castle. You should fetch your automobile. Hagan had it taken to my father’s house. Just leave me in the city.”

“First, I don’t care about the car. Second, I’m not leaving you anywhere when you’re in this mood.”

“I am not your responsibility.” Yves stomped down on the irrational anger that made him want to shout and curse and potentially cause significant property damage.

Doug gentled his tone. “No, you aren’t. But don’t you think I get it? I remember coming home from school and finding out the police had arrested my father. So if there is anyone in the world who understands what you feel right now, it's me.” Doug turned the car toward the north, so Yves assumed they were headed back to Nick’s place. That was as good a place to go as any.

Yves grimaced. In his self-centered shocked, he’d forgotten that Doug’s father was scheduled to be killed in retaliation for having killed someone himself. His father would call him a poor conversationalist, but then his father had ended a conversation by murdering a girl, so he had far less credibility than he liked to claim. “Duke Gerard told his father there was an accident.”

“Do you think it was an accidental death?” Doug’s mild, accepting tone made it harder for Yves to lie to himself. He wanted to think that his father was not the sort of man who would take a life. But he also wanted think that his father was the sort of person who kept his word, and he knew that wasn't true. Even though Yves hadn't said anything, Doug nodded as if in agreement. “Exactly.”

“Did you think your father was innocent?” Yves asked.

“Not for a fucking second. I knew my father had a scorpion temper.” Doug glanced over before pulling the car into the car park for a shopping area. He parked in a little-used corner before facing Yves across the center armrest. “Have you ever heard the story of the scorpion and the frog?”

“Is this some Americanism?”

“I don't know. Probably.” Doug shrugged. “A scorpion asked the frog to carry him across a river, but the frog said that it wouldn't be safe because the scorpion would sting. The scorpion responded that if he stung, they would both die, which the scorpion didn’t want. The very fact that he needed the frog meant that the frog was safe.”

“That sounds logical, but I have the feeling this story will not end well.” In fact, Yves could predict the ending. And the allegory appeared to imply that Duke Gerard was a scorpion destined to kill women. Yves never had a particularly romantic view of his father, but he could not square that with the reality of the first twenty-six years of his life.

“Halfway across, the scorpion attacked. The frog said they were both going to die and asked why the scorpion did it. The scorpion said that it was in his nature.”

“So you're saying it's in the nature of our fathers to kill things?” Being able to include Doug’s father in the question should have made it easier to consider the possibility. It didn’t.

Doug appeared far less emotionally compromised at the possibility. “I don't know your father that well, but it's in my father's nature to take offense at things. He always had to prove that he was the bigger man.” He snorted. “His insecurities had insecurities and that made him so damn defensive. He once backhanded my mother into a wall because she asked how they were going to make the mortgage, and he took it as an insult to his ability to provide for his family.”

That sounded dreadful. There was never any physical punishment in the Stenbock home. The worst the duke had ever done was nothing. If Yves really disappointed his father, the duke would simply vanish from Yves’s life for a number of weeks. That usually happened when grades came out. “For my father, it's always about status,” Yves said. “If you question him, he will make you feel two inches tall.”

“I never thought I’d say this, but I think I prefer my father’s parenting techniques to yours.”

Yves gave a light-hearted laugh and waved his hand as though chasing away wisps of smoke. “Once you learn not to expect love, it gets easier.”

Doug frowned. “I might kill the bastard.” Before Yves could respond, Doug continued. “So, the question is why your father cares that rest of the world might figure out that he was sleeping with someone. No offense, but the Stenbocks don’t have a long history of fidelity. No one is going to clutch their pearls over the idea that your father might have slept around.”

Doug had a point. If a blood test showed that Yves was not Duchess Martha's child, he wasn't sure that anyone would care. She had royal blood, but Yves’s status came through his father’s bloodline and the title granted him by his grandfather. Those wouldn’t change. However, did care about one thing. Himself. “Do you think the investigation is officially closed?” Yves scratched the side of his neck as he considered the sort of threat that might prompt Duke Gerard to take the seemingly desperate step of recruiting an American to his cause.

“What do you mean? I thought the dead king took care of that.”

“Even back then, royals didn't have the authority to change the law or pardon lawbreakers.” Yves truly did wonder what Americans learned about royals because Doug seemed to consistently misunderstand the role of a monarchy in a largely democratic nation. “King Joachim likely asked those investigating the crime to be less diligent in their work.”

Doug blew out a breath and turned the car off. They sat in the silence for a minute. “Well if that's the case, then your mother's murder would still be an open investigation. If your blood test connected your father to a murdered woman, that could be awkward.”

Catastrophic would be a more accurate term. “The police have loaded hundreds of cold cases into the genetic databases. Theoretically a criminal database should not interact with a medical one, but what should happen and what does…” Yves could imagine his father’s panic. Even with King Alphonse dying of a terrible disorder, the duke would worry about his own status first. Yves knew that. He wasn’t sure if his father was evil, but growing up in the shadow of a brother who would be king had made him selfish and quick to grab whatever he could get for himself.

“People get curious, and if someone suspects something, there might be a mistake in the lab or a leak to the press.” Doug grimaced. “Duke Gerard might have good reason to avoid any blood testing. Fuck. And I bought that shit about how he wanted to protect you from yourself. This isn't about you at all.”

Yves never had any illusions on that front. In a twisted way, Yves could almost understand his father better now. Disappointment had never driven a wedge between them. Duke Gerard just hated Yves’s guts. It was a refreshing feeling to know the source of his father’s scorn.

“So what are we going to do?” Doug asked.

Yves was not sure when they had suddenly become “we.” He appreciated the emotional support, but he didn't know how far to trust the camaraderie. The worst part was that he wanted more. He wanted to unload all his feelings—his anger, his relief, his frustration. He wanted to have someone to trust to take his side, but a moment of bonding over homicidal fathers or crumbling castles was not enough of a foundation. Yves didn’t dare call his own brother, so he had no business trusting Doug Wasso with this emotional dung heap.

But because Yves had not known Doug long enough for the inevitable disappointments, he had to fight the urge to do exactly that. 

“I’m going to call my publicist,” Doug said after a long silence.

“What? Why?” 

“Because you need someone in your corner, and I don’t trust you family. But Caro… she takes care of her people, and you are about to be one of her favorites.” Doug pulled out his phone, and before Yves could protest, the ringing of the phone came through the car’s speakers.