Royal Indiscretion, chapter 42 (Patreon)

Yves answered the phone the second it chirped. “¿Diga?” he said, just to annoy his father. Spanish was one of the languages that the Duke did not speak. 

“Yves,” Duke Stenbock said, his voice low and ominous. This was his father at his angriest.

“Father,” Yves said in his formal best. Doug tightened his grip on Yves’s hand.

“Return home immediately,” the Duke ordered. The terse tones suggested that he wished to yell. No doubt the maid had escaped before the Duke finished taking his anger out on her.

Yves took a deep breath and centered himself by focusing on the heat of Doug’s hand in his. “That would make it very difficult to report for work. And since I am now a working member of society, I must decline the offer.”

Shocked silence answered. Eventually the Duke said, “Excuse me?”

“My employers got me an emergency visa so that I can move to the States immediately.” Part of Yves wanted to keep that secret. After all, the Duke excelled at destroying any bit of happiness Yves ever found. However, he had to show his father strength. “Apparently there is a significant lack of good translators and I possess languages which make me an essential foreign worker.” Even saying that made Yves feel a little cocky. He was essential to something, good at something. This was not a familiar feeling.

“Whatever are you talking about? Stenbocks do not work for businesses. It is a crass form of commercialism, and you will not engage in it.” A decade ago, that tone would have terrified Yves. A year ago, he would have mocked it and then retreated to the relative safety of drugs. Now, Yves wasn’t sure how he felt.

“I signed all the paperwork. Amazingly enough, there is nothing you can do about it.” Yves tried to keep his voice light even when he was swallowing around a lump the size of his fist that seem to be lodged at the base of his throat.

Doug started breathing faster, and Yves shifted his gaze to the peeling paint of the building. The Duke snapped, “Do not speak to me that way, young man.”

“The significant term is ‘man.’ I am a man, and I can choose my life within the bounds of law. Any control you had was strictly financial. And since I will now be paying my own bills, that control no longer applies.”

“And how long do you believe you can maintain this financial independence?” Now his father’s voice dripped with scorn.

Yves looked over at Doug. He hated having to hide behind his lover, but the fact was that his father would always see Yves as weak. To feel the danger, he needed to understand that there was someone else holding the weapon. Yves asked Doug with a feigned joviality, “Do you think we will need to be taking out any loans from my father?” Yves tilted the phone slightly towards Doug, inviting him to answer. 

Doug laughed uproariously. “Fuck. I've seen how much money your father wastes on those ridiculous properties of his. He is bleeding money like a sieve and I'm raking down hundreds of millions of dollars. My publicist tells me that now that I've come out as gay, she can market me as the gay poster boy, I'm going to have more sponsorships than ever. I may not have a title, but I have the cash.”

“Did you hear that?” Yves asked.

“How dare you involve that man in our business.”

Yves laughed. “You must feel like Edward I did when he realized he had introduced his son to Piers Gaveston. You hoped Doug would talk me out of my title and make me quietly vanish. If he had succeeded, what would you have done? Given me money and a ride to the city so I could buy enough drugs to kill myself? I suspect that would make you happy.”

“I always loved you, even when drugs left you deeply paranoid.”

For a second, Yves was confused. But then it occurred to him. There was someone listening—someone not on the Duke’s staff. “I’ve told Doug the entire story of our sordid family. You don’t have to impress him.”

“If he knows about your drug use, he knows how unreliable your words are.” There was a smugness to the Duke’s voice that grated against Yves’s nerves. Doug held out his hand, and Yves surrendered the phone. Doug hit the speakerphone instead of taking it.

“I know exactly what kind of man you are,” Doug said. “I’ve known assholes like you my whole life, and your money and your fancy title don’t change who you are at your core.” Under Doug’s voice, Yves heard the angry noises of protest his father was making. People did not speak that way to the Duke. “Your father hasn’t asked why we were at a genetic clinic.” Doug’s voice was casual, but his shoulders were hunched, and Yves could see the worry on his face.

“Perhaps he doesn’t know we were,” Yves said, playing his part in this little drama.

“How sad to be so uninformed.” Doug stopped, and silence filled the air. Duke Gerard said nothing. Yves wondered what he might see if he could look inside his father’s brain. Was he afraid? Angry? Frustrated? Amused at Yves’s attempt to break free of his hold?

Doug looked up at Yves, but Yves could only shrug. 

The silence continued. “Elizabeth,” Doug said.

“Excuse me?” Duke Gerard sounded shocked down to his toes. They had his attention now.

“Sorry,” Doug said in the most blatantly not-sorry voice Yves had ever heard. “It’s the name of someone I know. It just popped in my head. She was… not a friend of a police office, but a police officer I know liked her. I don’t know why her name came to mind. Strange.” Doug stopped. He had a strained look on his face and he was staring at Yves as though Yves had some magical insight into the insanity that was Duke Gerard’s mind. He didn’t.

“What are you rambling on about?” Duke Gerard asked in a strained voice. Doug looked at the phone and then back up at Yves. His expression grew more desperate.

Yves cleared his throat. “You know Americans, father. They do tend to say whatever is on their minds. I keep telling Doug that his more outlandish ideas are offensive, but Americans…” Yves let his voice trail off.

“Yeah, Americans are too direct,” Doug agreed. “But at least you know where you stand with us. Or with me, anyway. I say what I think, and if I’m going to stab a knife in someone, I do it in the front. Backstabbing is impolite.”

Yves quickly translated that last bit because his father’s English would not handle the playful use of English. 

“You are clearly confused,” Duke Gerard said once Yves had gotten the gist of Doug’s words across.

“Nope,” Doug said cheerfully. “I’m really not. But you’re my boyfriend’s father and if you’re hurt, the press is going to hound him and drag him through the mud, so I’m glad you’re not confused. If you didn’t understand my position, I might have to do something to make it clear. And since I like Yves, I would hate to put you or him in a difficult position.”

Yves had more trouble translating that. The threat was subtle, and the escape clause if Duke Gerard would leave them alone even more so. He spoke so long that Doug’s expression turned confused.

“I see,” Duke Gerard said once Yves had finished. “I suppose I should wish you a good life in the States.”

“That would be uncharacteristically kind of you,” Yves said. He waited for something else, but the phone went dead. The graphic changed back to the home screen and Yves stared at it, his heart pounding against his ribs. They sat in the car, both of them holding onto the center console so their fingers touched.

“Oh boy,” Doug finally said.

Slowly, Yves nodded. This situation was worthy of at least a generic statement of dismay.

“Will that stop him?” Doug asked.

“I have no idea.” They had used their best ammunition, but Yves didn’t know if that would make his father more or less dangerous. He didn’t know anything at this point.

“Right.” Doug pulled out his own phone and put it on speaker before using one of the speed dial numbers. “Caro!” he said when a woman gave a curt “Hello.”

“Doug? What’s going on?”

“Well, Duke Gerard moved up the time table.”

“Well shit.” Caro cursed in a language that Yves didn’t recognize. “I haven’t finished my deep dive yet. Hold him off and we can strategize next steps.”

That struck Yves so funny that he started laughing. Caro had hoped to find some dirt, but Hagan had placed the entire garden in their laps.

“What did you two do?” she asked suspiciously.

“We fired a cannon across the bow of his ship,” Doug said. When they made eye contact, Doug started grinning, and Yves gasped in laughter. His father thought he could control everyone and every situation and Hagan had turned on him. Hagan. The man who arranged his very life. The man who had stood at the Duke’s side for thirty years had turned on him and sided with Yves. The bastard son. The worthless son. 

“Meaning?” Caro sounded more aggravated with every passing second.

Doug chuckled. “A certain birdy gave us the name Elizabeth Anders. She’s the Duke’s dead girlfriend.”

“Yves’s mother?” 

“The one and only,” Yves said. “Doug dropped her name and that implied that the only reason he isn’t giving it to the press is because he likes me. I’m the reason Duke Gerard is safe.” That sent Yves off into another round of giggles, and he suspected that he had accidentally ingested a truly wonderful narcotic or he was sliding off into hysteria.

“Holy shit. And you’re still in fucking London. You need to get on a plane and get out of there. Now.”

Doug cleared his throat. “We have a flight out in the morning.”

“Then I’m hiring private security for the hotel tonight, and if you say one fucking word about unnecessary expenses, I’m going to fire you as a client, clear?”

Holding up his hands in surrender as though Caro could see him, Doug said, “Absolutely clear. Security will be perfect.”

“And no going out to the theatre or dinner or for a pack of fucking gum. You go to the hotel room and you stay there.”

“Can we order room service?” Doug asked.

“I’ll have security clear it,” she said. Yves raised his eyebrows. He would not underestimate his father, but Caro appeared to overestimate his father’s ability to strike back. “Are you at the hotel now?”

Doug started the car. “We’re heading that way right now. With London traffic, it will take us thirty or forty minutes to get there.”

“Yves, pull your sim card and battery and then get rid of that phone of yours.”

Yves was already following directions when Doug spoke. “Don’t you think you’re taking this a little far?”

“You’re one of the few clients whose guts I don’t hate. So shut up and follow directions. At the hotel, go to the front desk and I’ll have the private security meet you there.” She hung up.

Doug stopped at a red right, and Yves darted out the door to drop his phone in a sidewalk garbage can before getting back in. “Better safe than sorry,” Yves said. In reality, he loved getting rid of the last tie to his father. His employer had Doug’s number on file, so if he didn’t answer his phone, they should ring Doug. By dropping that phone in the trash, Yves felt free.

His father had no reasonable expectation of loyalty, not after that call. Albert had distanced himself long ago, and Mary wouldn’t be back from her honeymoon for another three weeks. Yves wondered what sort of court she would return to. Would the Duke turn paranoid or angry? Would King Alphonse still be on the throne? Would the people know about the degenerative disease threatening to take the king?

Yves had always been the one of the edges of society. Few people confided in him because doing so risked the Duke’s displeasure. But now he was privy to information. It was a heady feeling.

“Are you okay?” Doug asked.

“I believe I shall be just fine,” Yves said. For the first time in many years, he even believed it.