“Very well,” Ambassador Melbourne said, finally. “But I would advise you to be careful.”
“I’m always careful,” Henry lied. “Have it delivered to my cabin at the end of the day.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
It had been years since Henry had seen a full-sized hamper, even one designed for a handful of people rather than a full diplomatic party. Setting it up on his own had been a headache, but it wasn’t as though he was short of time. His only real official duty was monitoring the diplomatic talks and offering his insights, such as they were. Trained researchers seemed to have already moved ahead, thanks to computer assistance, of where he’d been when they’d returned to the Old Lady.
He looked up as he heard the door chime. “Come,” he called. “It’s open.”
The hatch hissed open, revealing Janelle. She started into the room… and then stopped and stared in disbelief. Henry had set up the table with knives, forks, plates and glasses from the hamper, each one worth more than a midshipwoman would see in a year. The cold meats and bread in the centre of the table, surrounded by sauces and spices, were just the icing on the cake.
“…Henry?”
Henry rose to his feet, suddenly very nervous. It had seemed a good idea, even a great idea, when he’d first had it, but now… he honestly wasn’t sure if it had been a good idea after all. They’d first met and courted in the heat of battle, with the certainty of death hanging over their heads, and now… she’d thought him dead and a liar and… what if she laughed in his face or slapped him again?
“I thought we needed a proper dinner,” he said. He waved a hand to indicate the table and the glowing candles he’d placed around the compartment. “What do you think?”
Janelle stared at him, then shook her head in amused disbelief. “Where did you get the food?”
“There’s always a diplomatic hamper or two dozen wherever the diplomats go,” Henry said, as he motioned for her to take one of the seats. “They always have the best food, intended for the diplomat and his counterpart to share while bonding — or perhaps doing some secret negotiation. I just asked for one.”
Janelle sat down. “And you want to share it with me?”
Henry swallowed. This wasn’t going according to plan.
“I wanted us to have a proper dinner,” he said. “And a proper chat. We haven’t really had time for it since we reunited, have we?”
“No,” Janelle said. He could see the doubt in her eyes warring with something else. Guilt, perhaps. There wasn’t much food on the table, but it was of higher quality than anything else on the ship. The mess served slop by comparison. “Henry…”
“Please, eat,” Henry said. He took a piece of bread, buttered it expertly, then reached for a chunk of chicken. “This is all going to a good cause.”
Janelle hesitated, then took a piece of bread for herself. They munched in companionable silence for several minutes, trying out the different slices of chicken, pork and beef with their respective toppings. It was a very diplomatic meal, Henry knew, as he swallowed a piece of beef with horseradish sauce. The diners could take whatever they wanted, add whatever seasoning they wanted to try and eat. There would be no row over badly chosen dishes.
He put down his final piece of bread with some satisfaction, then poured them both a glass of rose water. It had been a surprise to discover that there was no alcohol in the hamper, but perhaps that was for the best. Alcohol might have made them both act badly.
“There’s rarely very much in these hampers,” he explained, as she took her glass. “The idea is to show off the very top-class foods, rather than try to negotiate when the other side is stuffed to bursting. It isn’t an easy balance to strike.”
He sat back in his chair and looked at her. She was stunning, as always, but there was a harder edge around her now. Loving him, losing him… and discovering that her life was no longer her own had to have left scars. Henry cursed himself under his breath, then leaned forward. He wanted — he needed — to make her understand.
“I fell in love with you,” he said. It was so hard to find the right words. “I wanted to enjoy being with someone who wanted me for myself.”
“And so you did,” Janelle said. Her voice was very even, but he thought he heard a quaver in her tone. “But I never expected to discover you were hiding a dark secret.”
“I know,” Henry said. Most boys would have concealed a past girlfriend or an unwholesome relationship, perhaps an experiment with homosexuality. He’d concealed a connection to the Royal Family. “I should have told you from the start.”
“But you couldn’t,” Janelle said. “You had no way of knowing what I would do with it.”
“No,” Henry said. He swallowed, again. Other royals had been betrayed through trusting in the wrong person. “You might have wanted to become a Princess or you might have contacted the media or…”
“I understand,” Janelle said, tonelessly.
“I was going to tell you,” Henry said, remembering the Admiral chewing him out for selfishness. “I told myself that I would confess the truth on the voyage back to Earth and if you decided you didn’t want to be part of the Royal Family — or even have a relationship with someone in the family — we would separate and no one would be any the wiser.”
“That would not have happened,” Janelle pointed out. “Someone saw fit to contact the media about me after your name was revealed.”
“I know,” Henry said. He felt so useless. “I couldn’t keep that from happening.”
“Of course not,” Janelle said, bitterly. “You were dead — presumed dead.”
She half-rose to her feet, glaring at him. “Do you know what I went through because of you?”
“…Yes,” Henry said. He didn’t know the specifics, but he could guess. The media would have sifted through her life, looking for scandal to tantalise and thrill the masses. Even after Earth itself had been attacked, he knew, nothing would have changed. They’d tell themselves that they were distracting the people from their woes. “And I didn’t mean it to happen.”
“But it did,” Janelle said. She slapped the table, tears visible in her eyes. “They had people harassing my parents, for crying out loud! My parents!”
Henry almost pointed out that he had reporters harassing his parents too, but somehow managed to hold his tongue. It wouldn’t have helped. His father had been born in a glass house, knowing — all too well — that anything he did would be used against him. And his mother, born to minor nobility, had had far more privacy until she’d married King Charles and discovered the truth behind the royal household. Janelle hadn’t even had that degree of scrutiny before she’d become his lover.
“Tell me,” she said. “Does it end? Does it ever end?”
“No,” Henry said.
He took a breath. “I don’t intend to stay,” he said. “When we get back to Earth, Janelle, I intend to abdicate my position. I won’t be Prince Henry any longer.”
Janelle managed a weak smile. “I think they know about Charles Augustus by now,” she said. “Call yourself John Smith this time.”
“Perhaps,” Henry said. “It was foolish of me to hope I could honour my family’s wishes and have a normal life. I can go elsewhere and I will. There are quite a few asteroid colonies where my privacy would be respected. I can go there and live a blameless life.”
Janelle frowned. “And would you be happy there?”
“I would be,” Henry said, “if you came with me.”
He took a breath. “I love you,” he said, simply. “You’re smart, sensible and pretty and… I love you.”