“I have reigned for nearly six decades,” she finally said. “Without a whiff of scandal. Every lid stays on every pot. Richard’s wife went mad, and no one had any idea until we decided it was time. And then this promiscuous weakling waltzes in here and—”

I held out one arm to block my mother, and another to block Nick. “But we can fight back, Your Majesty,” I said. “We can discredit him.”

“I recorded what he said to them,” Lacey added. “It’s hateful.” She proffered her cell phone to Eleanor, who looked down at it like Lacey was trying to give her a used tampon. Lacey slowly withdrew her hand.

“Which part of his story can you prove was inaccurate, Rebecca?” Eleanor asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

I cleared my throat. “On the recording he makes it very clear that revenge was his driving force, and he, er, he talks a lot about resenting being a good little royal foot soldier…”

Eleanor’s tone was caked in sarcasm. “So your grand plan is to reveal that a man who lived close to the monarchy for his whole life, with access most people only dream of, finds it to be oppressive.”

I couldn’t find the right words. Eleanor had twisted our logic until it cracked and broke.

“You are correct that it’s our word against his, ma’am,” I conceded.

“And your word is worth what in this scenario?” Eleanor asked. “No, don’t answer that, you’ll only embarrass yourself. And you will say nothing,” she said, flicking her hand in the direction of my mother, whose blood pressure was clearly still on the boil.

“Gran, I won’t stand for—” Nick began.

“YOU WILL ALL BE SILENT.” Eleanor’s voice exploded through the room as if she’d barked into a megaphone. “This family”—she paused for emphasis—“answers to something greater than bonds of blood. Our priorities cannot be so quaint. We maintain control. Never complain, never explain.” She straightened, as if her posture were not already immaculate. “Nicholas and Rebecca, you will cancel your honeymoon and work at the pleasure of your queen until I am satisfied you have deflected public attention from Rebecca’s indiscretions.”

“Don’t punish Nick for my—” Freddie began.

“I’ll deal with you later,” she said. “But right now, we shall go out onto that balcony. Whether there are a hundred people or a hundred thousand people, whether they are scornful or celebrating, we will wave and smile and play the parts our birthright demands. And then we will grit our teeth and do our jobs, and prove that everything within the House of Lyons is humming along as it should be.” She narrowed her eyes at me and Nick. “But Rebecca is on borrowed time. She must earn every minute she gets, or so help me God, I will void this union and exile her to purgatory. I will not allow this harlot to be our undoing. Have I made myself clear?”

Nick stared at his grandmother for what felt like a year. “Crystal,” he said.