She was in luck. He was a member, although he was using his “civilian” name, no doubt what he’d used in university. She did a quick search for Katherine Barr, seeing if they were friends. Unfortunately, they weren’t, and Kate’s settings were all private—no one could look at what she shared unless she allowed it.

  Of course she was the one who was good with security, Jane thought, disgruntled. This would make things harder.

  “Any luck?” Ben whispered, standing by the door and peering out in the hallway.

  “Not yet.” Well, if the network didn’t come up with anything, she needed to think of something else. She riffled through the papers on the desk, hoping like hell that the royal guards didn’t bust in and somehow arrest her for espionage. Still, if she was going to do this, she was going to do it right.

  What would Granddad do? She bit her lip, thinking rapidly.

  Follow the money.

  A few quick swipes of the mouse showed a complex spreadsheet detailing the kingdom’s finances in an overwhelming amount of detail. He could be hiding something there, but this would be accessed by budget ministers and financial officers and other government officials. She doubted that he’d try hiding a scandal in plain sight. That meant he’d have a record somewhere else, somewhere private.

  She quickly turned to his file cabinets. She finger-trailed through the folders, until she found a set of actual physical checkbooks and old registers. Her journalistic instincts started to hum. Who still had checks? Especially when most bills were paid online, or with credit... and especially when you were royalty?

  She opened up the registers. She noticed the checks were in the married names of the king and queen. She flipped through it. There were random charges—some private charities, where they probably wanted anonymity. But she noticed that every month, there was a check sent to London years ago, now Manchester, but all to a Jess Hope.

  She tracked back, excitement growing. The checks weren’t a huge amount, but they were as regular as a Swiss watch, and they weren’t automated. Someone was hand-writing checks to this woman... and had been for years.

  It was her, she realized. Jess was the name of Kate’s daughter on the birth certificate they’d found. This had to be her, and now they had proof.

  She looked at the most recent checks, and suddenly, something struck her.

  “When did your father have his stroke?” she whispered.

  “Hmm?” Ben was still vigilantly keeping watch. “Few months ago. Why?”

  “Just trying to puzzle something out,” she said, trying to keep her voice casual, even as her mind whirled. It sounded like his father hadn’t even been allowed in the office for some time, relegated to his bed. But the checks had still gone out like clockwork. As she looked at the duplicates of the checks—carbon copies of the originals—she noticed something else. The handwriting on the checks had changed.

  So someone else knew about the payments. Someone else knew about Jess.

  It could be his assistant, she thought. But if he trusted his assistant with this, the assistant probably would’ve been sending the payments the whole time.

  Then she looked closer.

  The checks, she realized, were signed by the other account holder.

  The queen.

  She suppressed a gasp and quickly shut the checkbook and closed the drawer.

  If the queen was aware of this, that meant she’d been lying all this time, too. She knew about the affair, and the child. She was covering it up.

  Ben was going through this whole rigamarole of their “fake relationship” specifically to find this information—so he could protect his mother. He hadn’t wanted to let her know until he had all the facts. This proof that she’d essentially betrayed him would be difficult to swallow.

  Maybe she was wrong, Jane thought nervously. Maybe she was misinterpreting this. All she knew was, she did not want to hurt Ben more than he’d already been hurt.

  There was no help for it. She had to get the queen alone, confront her with what she’d seen... ask her what she knew. Then she could talk to Ben, and they’d figure out the next steps.

  “I think someone’s coming,” Ben said.

  She set the computer back to sleep, then hurried over to Ben’s side. They shut the door behind them, heading back down the hallway.

  “So? What’d you find?”

  “Kate Barr was definitely at university with him,” she said. “But she’s set her details to private. I do think she’s in London, though.”

  He nodded. “We’ll go back soon,” he said. “Then we’ll get the truth.”

  “We’re going to be here for another day or two, though, right?” She wasn’t sure when she’d get another chance at talking to the queen.

  He looked surprised, but nodded. “Certainly.” He paused, then studied her. “Are you all right?

  She swallowed. This was difficult, but if she ever needed a poker face, it was now. “I’m fine,” she said. “I just... I don’t want this to be over,” she admitted, in a low voice. That, at least, was the truth.

  His dark eyes were heated, but his gaze was tinged with regret. “Maybe we can figure out something,” he said. “After, I mean.”

  She sighed. She doubted it, but the tiny glimmer of hope made her chest warm. She wanted a relationship with Ben, not because he was a prince, but because he was a wonderful man. “A girl’s got to dream,” she said, her grin wobbly.

  He looked up and down the hallway, then leaned down and kissed her. “I’m dreaming, too,” he whispered, and it hit her right in the chest.

  Damn it, why are you so perfect?

  She had to get to the bottom of this—for him.

  14

  Ben knew that something was wrong. He just didn’t know what.

  Ever since they’d sneaked into the king’s royal study, she’d been jittery. He thought initially it might be because of the act itself—breaking into a royal’s office was a dicey prospect at best—but it didn’t seem to be that. He got the feeling that, if the stakes were high enough and the story important enough, she’d probably break into Scotland Yard itself. He admired that about her, her tenacity, her fearlessness. But now, she seemed pensive, unnerved.

  He grimaced, rubbing his jaw as she went over notes.

  “We’re only going to be here another day or so, right?” she asked.

  “I think so,” he replied, sitting next to her on the bed, as was their habit. “I doubt we’re going to get any more information around here, and we’ve got Katherine Barr and Jess’s approximate whereabouts. Once we get back to England, we’ll be able to really track the lead, and finally get some answers.”

  She made a noncommittal sound, which again, he wasn’t expecting. She’d been chomping at the bit to get to the bottom of this story. Now, she seemed listless, distracted. What had changed?

  “I don’t suppose we’ll be seeing your mother again?” she asked slowly. “I like her. She’s so warm, and personable. It’d be nice to get to know her better. I mean, I doubt I’ll be back in Reinia any time soon, and even if I come back, it’s not like I’m just going to drop in on the queen.”

  He studied her. She was avoiding his gaze, flipping pages of notes nervously. Abruptly, he realized she hadn’t had a mother in years. His mother was wonderful, welcoming. Of course she’d want to spend a bit more time with a mother figure.

  He put an arm around Jane, hugging her, surprising her. “I’m sure I can arrange something,” he said, kissing her temple before realizing what he was doing. Her eyes rounded, and he realized he probably shouldn’t have, even though it felt so damned natural. He forced himself to get up, calling his mother’s social secretary. Fortunately, despite his mother’s hectic schedule, she had nothing planned. “There we go,” he said to Jane. “We’ll have dinner tonight, the three of us. Is that all right?”

  She looked at him gratefully, but there was something... a tinge of frustration, even of panic. What was bothering her?

  His mind examined the problem. Perhaps, even after their discussion, she was still thinking of her own mother... and her own possible condition. He sighed. He just wanted to help her, he realized. He wished that there was some way to make it right.

  “You know,” he said slowly, “I know a lot of professors, over at Oxford. I’m sure that there’s an expert in early-onset Alzheimer’s. I can put you in touch...”

  “Ben,” she said quietly, a small, sad smile on her face. “That’s sweet. But I could get in contact with professors myself, and I’ve done a lot of research. They don’t have a cure; there’s no magical fix. Either I have the gene, or I don’t. And if I have the gene, then there’s no way of knowing when the symptoms might develop.”

  “Can’t you take the test?” he said, his voice edged in frustration with a note of pleading.

  “Of course I can take the test,” she said. “But I don’t think I will.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I’m scared.”

  He blinked. Of all the reasons she could have given, that one he hadn’t expected. “You’re one of the bravest women I know,” he protested. “And besides, the truth is always better than not knowing, isn’t it?”

  She bit her lip, looking away. “Not always,” she said, surprising him further.

  “I don’t believe that.” He sighed, running his hands through his hair. “If you know what you’re dealing with, at least it’s not haunting you. You can make a plan to address it. Maybe get on medical trials, or...”

  “Or what, Ben?” she interrupted, her voice snapping with irritation. “What if I have the gene? You think that’s going to change things? I’ll have the sword of Damocles hanging over my head, knowing it’s not a matter of if but when! You think that it’ll be a relief, having to take medications that may or may not work? Setting up my financial affairs for when I don’t recognize anyone in my life anymore?” Her voice broke. “When I don’t know me anymore?”

  He swallowed hard. He hadn’t looked at it that way. “I just... I hate to see you hurting.”

  “I know,” she said gently, but her tone was still firm. “But you can’t fix this, and you can’t force it, Ben. Prince or not, there are some things that are out of your purview, and I’m going to need you to leave it alone.”

  He nodded, still feeling ill at ease. He wanted to gather her up in his arms, hold her tight. Assure her that, no matter which way the test came out, he’d be there for her.

  The strength of his feelings startled him.

  He was pulled out of his thoughts by a knock on the door to his suite. He opened it to find his father’s assistant, Henry.

  “Your father wanted to know if you could visit him,” Henry said, a note of disapproval in his voice. “He’s apparently tried calling a few times, but you haven’t been able to fit him into your schedule?”

  He scowled at Henry, who backed down immediately. He did not need to be judged about bad manners by his father the liar, or his father’s proxy, for that matter. Still, he wouldn’t be able to put his father off much longer, not without it becoming glaringly obvious, and the topic of palace gossip. It would get back to his mother, who hated that he and his father weren’t closer. He sighed, looking at Jane. “I should do this,” he said.

  “Of course,” she replied quickly.

  “I’ll be back before dinner, certainly,” he said, “but if I’m not, they’ll send someone to take you to the royal dining hall, all right?”

  She nodded, giving him a thumbs-up and a jaunty grin that didn’t quite meet her eyes. One way or another, he realized, he’d find out what was bothering her.

  Ideally, he thought as he followed Henry through the maze of corridors that led to the king’s suite, he would discuss this with Jane while the two of them were in bed, exhausted and sex-drunk. He doubted that it would happen because she’d made her case quite clear about why they couldn’t get together. But he hadn’t felt this way about anyone in a long time—not since his disastrous relationship in university. Perhaps it was foolish, but there had to be some way for them to make it work.

  Henry led him to his father. He was in a hospital bed still, and the sight threw Ben. His father looked... frail, now, he realized. It was unexpected.

  “Father,” he said with a nod. Henry quickly and silently left the room, shutting the door behind him.

  “Ben,” his father said, his voice a bit reedy, his breathing a bit labored. “I can’t believe I had to send my assistant to shepherd you into visiting your own father.”

  Ben winced. “I’ve been busy.”

  “Doing what?” His father might look tired, but his eyes were still bright, his expression shrewd. “Getting ready to take over, I hope. I don’t know that I’ll be able to keep ruling much longer. Retirement is sounding better and better.”

  Ben startled. He knew that his father hadn’t been feeling well, but this was news. “I’ve been traveling a bit,” he hedged. “Spending time. In London.”

  “Oh?” If his father was thinking of Katherine, he didn’t show it on his face. “Any particular reason?”

  “Just something to do,” Ben said, trying to sound breezy and casual. “I met someone.”

  Now his father smiled. “Someone you could be serious about?” he said. “You’re old enough to be thinking of marriage... more than old enough.”

  Ben groaned. “I’m in no rush.”

  “You’re lucky,” His father reminded him. “I swear, one of the best things I ever did was strike down the law that required the royal heirs to be in arranged marriages, or you’d be married already.”

  Ben gritted his teeth. “Yes,” he said. “I’m well aware that if you hadn’t, I’d be married to someone I wasn’t in love with.”

  Like you did.

  His father stiffened, obviously understanding what Ben left unsaid. “You know I don’t mean that as an insult to your mother,” he said, his voice stern. “Yes, I was young when my marriage to your mother was arranged, and we weren’t exactly a love match. But I cared about her, and we did the best we could.”

  Ben shrugged, even as his stomach knotted.

  His father sighed. “I love your mother,” he said. “We love each other... in our way. Not everything’s a fairy tale. I’d like to think that things have improved here in Reinia, and we’re working on making things even better. But ever since the stroke, I’ve come to realize that I can’t keep burying myself in work. And I also don’t want to lose my son because I ruined having a relationship with him when he was younger.”

  Ben stared. It might be the most honest and heartfelt thing his father had ever said to him.

  “I don’t want there to be distance between us anymore,” his father said.

  Ben swallowed. This was the perfect time to confront him—but he couldn’t. Not when his father looked so sickly and exhausted.

  “Why don’t you get better,” Ben said slowly, “and then... we’ll talk.”

  His father’s eyes were already drooping—apparently the depth of emotion, the frustration and regret, was drawing more energy than he had. “Stay a minute,” his father said, then closed his eyes.

  Ben watched as his father’s breathing turned to slow, low snores. Ben rubbed at the back of his neck. He wasn’t close to his father. He couldn’t forgive him for cheating on his mother and hiding his sister, no matter how many years ago it had happened. But that said, he couldn’t turn his back on him, either.

  He went to the nightstand. He knew that his father had medicine of some sort, even though he didn’t know what it was for. He thought his father might need it when he woke up. He pulled out a bottle, and then shook his head, smirking. Regal or not, his father was a mess, something that must drive poor Henry crazy. He put the pill bottle by a crystal glass of water. Then, absently, he rifled through the papers and boxes stuffed in the drawer.

  There were photos, he realized. Pictures of himself, as a child. Pictures of the three of them as a family—not royal portraiture, but casual snaps from when they’d been on vacation. There weren’t many, but they were there. There was a small box as well. He picked it up, finding a snow globe.

  From underneath the box, a letter dropped. He picked it up, then immediately his chest clenched.

  He recognized the handwriting. It was Kate.

  Other than glancing at his father to see if he was still asleep, he didn’t hesitate. He yanked the letter out of its envelope.

  I can’t give many details, but I can’t thank you enough, it read. I am doing the best I can. But I can’t help but feel like, even if we can’t communicate from here, I have someone helping me. I have allies. I’m not so alone.

  Ben growled, low in his throat.

  Please thank Maria for me. Not every woman would be so understanding. And of course, I will keep the child a secret.

  He had to re-read the sentences several times.

  Thank Maria?

  His own mother knew about this?

  She knew his father had cheated... and had a child?

  And then, somehow, she’d conspired to keep the child hidden? She’d actually been complicit?

  His head spun. No. She wouldn’t. But apparently she had.

  Rage boiled through him. Was there anyone he loved who was actually honest?

  Jane, a small voice whispered, but he pushed that aside.

  It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right.

  He needed answers. Right. Now.

  15

  Jane paced the room, wondering if she should take a risk and try to corner the queen without Ben in tow. It was hard enough keeping this secret from him—she felt like it was written across her face, and that he’d figure it out any second. Of course, all he did was worry about her, which was amazing, if somewhat frustrating. He was like a white knight, intent on righting the wrongs of the world. He’d probably make a wonderful king, she realized.

  He’d make an even better husband, she thought with a pang.