James was an absolute fucking idiot.

All he had to do was leave the damn ceremonial hall. He wasn’t expected to mingle with people afterwards. In fact, he was explicitly not supposed to. He had been told to head straight back to the chamber where he’d left Iggy and his mother in order to have lunch with her.

Instead, he’d followed the dazzling blond he had spied in the audience.

After all his self-deprecation that morning about working out what he would do with his life and looking for a nice lady, he had been blinded by the first shiny thing he’d seen, like a magpie. Except, instead of glittering treasure, James had been confronted by an Essex boy with a sharp tongue.

No, not boy. Man. The mysterious blond had possessed far more maturity and savvy than James had been expecting. In truth, in the few seconds he’d thought with his head rather than his cock, he’d convinced himself the blond would turn out to be a demure thing, delighted to be charmed by a prince.

Now here James was, scalded with his tail between his legs. He was also still more than mildly aroused. If anything, the blond’s feistiness had made him even more attractive in James’s eyes.

There was, though, little point in imagining things could have ever gone further between them. It was clear a firecracker like him was one of those sorts of people who thought the monarchy was a waste of taxpayers’ money. That the wealth of the crown should be divided up amongst the nation or even the Commonwealth. He certainly wasn’t afraid to stand up to James.

But it wasn’t like those pillocks who had tried to tease James at school before his growth spurt. Or the drill sergeants who got off on humiliating a prince just to make them look better. This guy had seemed genuinely disappointed in James’s behaviour. Like he’d hoped for better.

Like James could be better.

James really didn’t need to be so wholly preoccupied by it as he was heading back to his mother. But he couldn’t shake the way the blond had looked at him. Mrs Smith’s grandson. Did that also make him a Smith? Typical he should have one of the most common names in all of the United Kingdom. They couldn’t be any further apart.

As he reached the chamber he’d been in before, he was promptly told by one of the staff to head to the Chinese Breakfast Room. Mother must have got tired of waiting for him. So, he still had a few minutes to muse to himself.

He’d felt ashamed before the ceremony, knowing he was going to be upstaged by so many people who had achieved infinitely more than him with their lives. But he hadn’t expected to be openly chastised for being a waste of space by any of them. As much as the blond had piqued his interest, he had also hurt James’s feelings.

Truthfully, the blond shouldn’t have snuck his phone inside the palace. That was a gross breech of protocol. But James shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions and assumed he was up to no good with Bertie and the vase, either. After all, it sounded like the blond had saved not only the vase but also Bertie’s head.

Speaking of which, the naughty little man was still squirming in James’s arms, no doubt ruining his suit. He would have sent it to the drycleaners anyway after wearing it. It was just a touch embarrassing to hand it over covered in dog hair, like he’d been rolling around on the floor.

He sighed as he approached his destination. Mother was going to be thoroughly unimpressed.

Except when he knocked on one of the doors to the breakfast room, it was not his mother’s voice that greeted him.

James’s relief was immense as he pushed through the door and saw only his sister, Olivia, waiting for him. “Livy,” he said, breathing out his tension and offering her his biggest smile.

“Jimmy,” she said, also using their private childhood pet names. She rose to her feet and opened her arms for him. “I had a hunch you might want some cheering up.”

James released Bertie so he could join his pack on the pink-and-purple floral rug that took up almost all of the room’s floor. As usual, Bonney was so happy to see him again she started yowling.

“Oh, do shut up, Bonney,” James and Livy sighed together.

Bonney chased her tail and went back to her brothers and sisters. Five wagging tails created a flurry of motion around the legs of the rectangular wooden table. It could seat six comfortably but was currently laid for just two. James hugged his sister tightly.

The Chinese Breakfast Room was a little gregarious compared to other rooms in the palace. James should have known it was Livy meeting him here and not his mother. They had always loved this smaller space. The walls were entirely covered in murals of scenes from a Chinese fishing village, painted in a traditional style for the region. As children, they had made up stories for all the people illustrated on the walls.

“Where’s Mother?” James asked. “Not that I’m not thrilled to see you,” he added tactfully. The truth was he would trade lunch with his mother for Livy any day of the week.

Olivia shared James’s colouring with her brown hair and blue eyes, and her heart-shaped face gave her a classic English beauty. Although their mother took a different view, James always thought she had a lovely figure, even if it was a little more rounded than a princess traditionally had. She was wearing a bright floral dress cut in the fifties A-line style she had made her signature look. It was the closest she could come to a rebellion, with its hint of rockabilly flare.

She waved a lacy gloved hand and grinned. “Mummy said something vague about an Ascot emergency so I…encouraged her…to dash off and take care of it so we could chat.”

James grinned as they took their seats. Staff materialised from nowhere to present them with steaming hot tomato soup. Livy must have already ordered for them both.

Their mother was obsessed with horses. She had competed at the Olympics in her day in the Three-Day Eventing, and they also had a cousin who was following in her footsteps. They both seemed to think there was nothing more important. Normally, James couldn’t help but be offended at being abandoned yet again for stable business. But if it meant he and Livy got some time together after his rotten morning, he didn’t mind in the slightest.

Once the staff departed, James reached over and squeezed Livy’s hand. “Thank you,” he said.

She arched an eyebrow at him and blew gently on her soup. “So,” she said pointedly. “What’s got you so down in the dumps?”

For a second James forgot that he’d been put out before the ceremony, not just after. He sighed and reached over for the red wine and poured them both a glass. “Why am I so utterly useless?”

“Nonsense,” Livy said, tutting and frowning. “You’re marvellous.”

“I don’t have a job,” James countered.

But Livy wasn’t so easily dissuaded. “You’re a prince,” she said pointedly. “That’s your job. We serve the people and stand for the country. No, Blenheim, down. Naughty boy.”

Blenheim in the blue collar was always on the make for any dropped food. When none was dropped, he was happy to hop onto a chair and try and help himself.

“Okay,” said James patiently as Blenheim circled around to try another approach. James took a second to check Bertie hadn’t escaped again, but he was sitting looking perfectly innocent by the fireplace. James brought his attention back to his sister. “I need something to do day in, day out. The Army gave me structure, but there was no sense hanging around there when I could never really be deployed anywhere.”

He’d tried. He’d actually managed most of a tour in Afghanistan. But the never-ending hounding from the press, let alone any hostile agencies, meant he had a continuous and enormous target on his back. Putting him in a combat zone not only endangered himself but anyone he was deployed with.

Livy gave him a sympathetic smile. “I know you enjoyed the Army,” she said. “It suited you. But it wasn’t to be, so I can see you’re looking for something else. Something new.”

Without even breaking eye contact with James, she scooped Blenheim back off the same chair, plopped him on the rug again, then picked up Beanie’s tennis ball to throw it across the room for her. Several scrabbling sets of paws meant the pack would probably be entertained amongst themselves for at least a few minutes.

James smiled to himself. He suspected she was going to make a fearsome mother someday.

“Yes,” said James. “In a nutshell. I’m tired of being useless.”

“You need to get yourself engaged,” she said with a wink. “That will keep you busy.”

Olivia was marrying a dashing naval Lieutenant-Commander. It was somewhat controversial because the fellow in question, a chap called Briggs whom James liked very much, was Black. It was considered extremely racy and modern that the Royal Family should consider something so daring. Iggy had been utterly appalled. Livy had told anyone who had issue with it, in no uncertain terms, to fuck off.

“I’d love to,” James said wistfully. He poked a bit of bread roll around the dregs of his rich, red soup. “But Livy…what if…what if the person I find I want to marry isn’t the right sort?”

“Do what I did,” she said with a mischievous grin and threw the tennis ball again.

James offered her a weak smile, but his heart wasn’t really in it. “Do you think it’s terrible I honestly feel my life would have such greater value if I was happy with someone?” he asked, skirting the issue.

At this, Livy became serious. She held his hand again and rang the handbell, so they could start the main course before continuing to talk. James finally took a sip of his wine, allowing the first buzz of the alcohol to soothe him a little.

“I think,” she said once they had their steak tartare, “that it’s natural to want to find a companion. Not many people appreciate how lonely this life can be.” She sighed. “But that shouldn’t complete you, Jimmy. You should complete you. Finding someone to marry should be about a person who elevates you and helps you to be the best version of who you can be.”

“Oh, you sound so infuriatingly in love,” James teased. But their laughter broke the maudlin mood nicely.

“So you should listen to me,” Livy said, waggling her fork. Then she looked down at the serving they had been given. “Honestly, do they have orders from Mother again? They call that enough potatoes?” She rang the bell again and very sweetly, but firmly, requested another helping with compliments to the chef.

James managed to catch Bertie the escape artist before he nipped out again with the staff. Once Bertie settled back down once more, James felt brave enough to ask the question that was really burning in his throat.

“What if…” he managed slowly.

He stalled for another few seconds by taking a sip of wine, but Livy had her eyes on him. It was just the two of them. He needed to be brave.

“What if I don’t find…a wife,” he said.

He was sweating, goddamn it. He knew Livy knew more than anyone about his sexual orientation. But it was another thing entirely to say it out loud. James was tired of hiding, though. If he couldn’t talk to Livy, he really couldn’t talk to anyone.

“What if I found a husband?” he asked in a rush.

Livy licked her lips and swirled her own wine, a sparkle in her eyes. “Have you?” she asked, then took a drink.

James huffed. “No,” he admitted. “But I’m more likely to. That’s just the way my attractions lie.”

“So,” said Livy practically, apparently not shocked in the slightest. “Either you try harder at finding a truly extraordinary young woman. Or you carry on as you are and, when the time comes, present the lucky gentleman to the world and tell them they can take it or leave it.”

“It’s not that simple,” James protested.

“Oh, really?” Livy said. A hint of colour rose to her cheeks, but yet again they were forced to stop talking as they were dished up their extra roast potatoes.

That was the trouble with the bigger residences. As nice and professional as the staff were, James always felt like he was being watched. At the smaller castles at least, he felt like he actually knew people. He would never want to risk this kind of conversation being overheard, though.

James did feel sorry for the staff, always having to tiptoe around his family’s ridiculous dramas. Normal people didn’t have to do this. He and Livy just had to bite their tongues until the doors closed again.

Which meant they both gulped down more wine than they ordinarily would have.

“You think it was simple for Briggsy and me?” Livy demanded as soon as they were alone.

“No,” James said patiently and with sympathy. “Of course not. But you have to admit it’s not quite the same.”

Livy opened her mouth but then closed it again as she appeared to think on what she was going to say. “All right,” she conceded. “Being with someone Black isn’t quite the same as a man being with another man in this day and age. But it wasn’t a walk in the park,” she added sternly, spearing a potato. “It probably never will be. You know what Iggy had to say on the matter.”

Unfortunately, James did. Iggy had whispered some disgusting things into their mother’s ear about the ‘optics of brown babies at Buckingham Palace’. For once, their mother hadn’t agreed with him. Thank god. Neither James nor Livy would probably ever have forgiven her if she had.

“There’s also the matter of the line of accession,” James said softly.

Livy raised her eyebrows and tilted her head. “Yes,” she said bluntly. “That did help matters. I won’t lie.”

Their grandmother currently sat on the throne as the Queen. The heir to the throne was their father, who would be another in the long line of Georges to be crowned King of England. Alexander, James and Livy’s older brother, was then second in line. Out of the three of them, the better sibling couldn’t have been chosen. Alexander was truly born to his calling and had never struggled with the expectations they lived with as his younger siblings did.

Alexander and his wife, Laura, had three lovely boys, which left James sixth in line to the throne of England. It was up to the sixth who needed permission from the Crown to wed.

Although they knew Grandma had no objections personally to Briggs, by Livy moving down to seventh in line with the birth of Alex’s youngest, it removed the decision completely. The Queen didn’t have to endorse or decline in public, thus avoiding a tremendous amount of hassle and upset any kind of change inevitably caused. In private, she had been delighted for Livy.

James took his turn throwing Beanie’s tennis ball for her and Bonney. Blenheim was still circling for scraps, but at least Bertie wasn’t trying to launch himself out through the door. Bouncer had fallen asleep, her legs in the air. James felt a rush of affection for the lot of them. Having dogs had always felt like such a reassuringly normal part of their lives.

“Anyway,” he said, shaking himself both physically and mentally. “It’s all hypothetical at the moment. There’s no one I have my eye on.” He point-blank refused to think of the dazzling blond who had ruffled him so thoroughly. “So maybe things will just work themselves out for the best. In the meantime, I was hoping to find myself a hobby. Something to keep myself out of trouble.”

“No more falling into fountains,” Livy said cheekily.

“That was one time, honestly!” James exclaimed in exasperation. “The way the tabloids bang on you’d think I did it every other weekend!”

Livy chuckled and topped up their wine. “So, you have something in mind?”

James ran his fingers up and down the wine glass stem. “I would like to do some charity work. Real work, not just a photo op for a day shaking hands at a call centre.”

Livy nodded. “That sounds good,” she said. “I take it you’ve been inspired by some of today’s guests?”

“I suppose,” James replied, again not thinking of his blond. “I’m actually good at using my hands. Do you think I could dig some wells? Build some houses?”

“Possibly,” said Livy. “Although it’s better to raise the cash to do those sorts of things properly. Why build one well when you can provide the infrastructure to get plumbing into a whole village? You could start a trust, one big pot, then invest in the charities you choose. They could send you proposals and the like.”

That sounded so overwhelming it made James’s head spin. “Okay,” he said slowly.

But Livy gave him a kind look. “Don’t fret,” she said cheerfully. “First start with a big fundraiser. A charity ball or something. You know how people pay crazy money to come to a palace or a castle. Jemima Portescue on the PR team can help you with the guest list and invites. Find yourself an events coordinator and put on a big hurrah. You’re wonderful with people.”

Normally, James thought, casting his mind back to his faux pas after the ceremony.

But something jolted in the back of his head. The blond had said he worked with his nan’s charity. She was an entrepreneur who had turned her hand to all kinds of projects. What did that mean the mysterious blond did?

James’s mind whirred and he wasn’t aware of his sister grinning at him until it was too late. “You’ve got something going on, haven’t you?” she prompted slyly.

James did his best not to look sheepish. “I just think I might be able to kill several birds with one stone,” he said truthfully.

But would it work?

Only one way to find out.