Chapter 9

I’d been to too many formal dinners and luncheons to count. I’d attended ones with dozens of foreign dignitaries, politicians, and other royals. I’d met people who’d been so obvious about gaining my family’s favor that I’d felt slimy afterward. I’d seen prime ministers who’d not understood royal protocol, even one being so obtuse as to take my mother’s hand and shake it, which was not at all the thing. 

But all of those events paled in comparison to this informal family dinner my parents, my wife, and I were suffering through. Conversation was stilted, the sounds of eating and drinking filling the silences. 

My father sat at the head of the table as protocol dictated, my mother to his left. I sat at his right, while Niamh sat next to me. More than once, I’d caught Niamh’s gaze, wanting to apologize for the awkwardness. She’d merely wrinkled her nose at me and bit back a smile.

I couldn’t help but notice that my mother seemed thinner than normal. She barely touched her food