The Last in Line (The Royal Inheritance Series Book 1) (11 page)

Rufus headed her way.

“Mrs. Krebs, would you like to sit; it’s time to talk about some specifics.”

“Of course, Mr. Prime Minister.”

She sat on an overstuffed antique sofa and he sat opposite her on an upholstered chair with gilt legs. Britchford was called over to join the discussion and sat next to Renee. Roberts stood off to the side.

Rufus cleared his throat.

“Mrs. Krebs, we are delighted that you are here. You are a charming young lady and serious about your role, I can see. Beautiful too.”

Renee smiled, but wasn’t fooled by the compliments. “Thank you, Mr. Prime Minister.”

“I don’t know if it has been explained to you, but before you can properly be declared heir to the throne, the Act of Succession must be passed by Parliament. Only then will you be the heir—heiress, I should say—and some time later there will be a coronation which makes you the queen. All right?”

Renee nodded, she knew all this.

“Good then. But you see, it may take some doing to pass the Act of Succession.”

“Oh?” said Britchford. He sounded surprised.“Why is that?”

Rufus looked at him irritably and then refocused his gaze on Renee.

“It’s not a slam dunk, you see. There are plenty of people not keen on reinstating the monarchy. Many view it as outdated and with the economy as it is right now….Well, they figure if Canada, Australia, The United States, and just about every other country can function without a monarchy, then so can we. And the fact that you are American, that might give many pause.” Rufus shrugged his shoulders as if to say there was nothing he could do about it. “I’ll need your help to get the bill passed. Your cooperation and
support
. Do you see what I mean?”

Yes, she understood perfectly.

“I’ll help you as far as I can,” said Renee neutrally. She’d wait and see what he was about.

Britchford spoke. “Correct me if I’m wrong, Mr. Prime Minister, but aren’t these people—the naysayers—all in your party? Are you unable to keep your own party in line? Could that be considered a show of no-confidence?”

“I can control my party just fine,” snapped Rufus.

“Then you will have no problem passing the bill then,” said Britchford.

Rufus leaned over to his assistant and whispered something in his ear. The assistant nodded and got up. Rufus turned back to Renee, ignoring Britchford and Roberts. “The votes could probably be wrangled, but whose name will be on the bill?”

“What do you mean?” asked Renee. The hairs were standing up on the back of her neck as if a cold breeze had just chilled her, but the room was very warm. Something was up. She had sat in on enough rounds of poker to sense that Rufus held a card he had not yet played. “Who else is there?” She looked at Britchford, but he looked just as puzzled.

One of the many doors, this one almost invisible as it was paneled in the same style as the wall, opened slowly and a man entered the room. Renee gasped. A striking man in a tuxedo strolled laconically towards them, one hand in his pocket. He cut a dashing figure, but she knew that smile and that scar which slashed upwards from his top lip all the way to his eye. Ammon Bretton smiled and Renee felt a shiver run up her spine.

“Hello Renee.”

CHAPTER TEN

CHASE VAULTED OVER a sofa and drew his gun from inside his jacket.

“Get down,” he shouted.

His eyes and weapon were locked on Bretton. Renee grabbed Cassandra and pushed her behind one of the heavy antique tables, shielding Cassandra’s small body with her own. Cassandra tried to push her off, but Renee wouldn’t budge. Everyone else in the room seemed frozen: Alan Britchford’s eyes were wide and confused, his mouth opening and closing like a fish; the military men seemed uncertain what to do; and the rest of the politicians stood there, uncertain as to whether this was, indeed, real and trying to decide if they should run, duck, or stay put and save face if it turned out to be nothing. The only people who seemed unconcerned were Ammon Bretton who lazily put his hands up and sighed as if he was bored, and Prime Minister Rufus who strolled forward towards Chase.

“Now, now, Philip, none of that. Put your gun away, there’s nothing to worry about. We’ve not had an incident in the Residence since the IRA jumped the shark in 1991,” said Rufus.

Chase didn’t move a muscle. Without taking his eyes off of Bretton or lowering his weapon he said, “Mr. Prime Minister, this is a dangerous criminal. He’s killed several women and attacked Mrs. Krebs. He must be taken in now!”

Rufus spoke again, forcefully this time. “Mr. Chase if you do not lower your weapon I shall call security and have you arrested.”

Chase’s eyes flashed, but he slowly lowered his gun. “Mr. Prime Minister, I whole heartedly disagree. This man is dangerous. He is a killer.”

Rufus called over his shoulder to Bretton who was still half-heartedly holding his hands up. “Ammon, you’re not dangerous, are you?”

“As dangerous as a kitten,” he replied, silkily.

Chases’s eyes darted back and forth between Rufus and Bretton, his jaw clenched.

“Come now, Philip. Put it away and let’s have a chat,” said Rufus, his hands spread out in a conciliatory gesture. “Mrs. Krebs, let me help you up.” He walked to where Renee and Cassandra were crouched by the table and grasped her hand to pull her to her feet. Renee smoothed out her dress and held Cassandra tightly to her.

“What’s he doing here?” said Renee, her voice almost a hiss. Her hand went involuntarily to her throat. The memory of his fingers wrapping themselves around her neck was still fresh. She hadn’t told Cassandra any of this in order not to scare her.

“I think we’re all operating under a misunderstanding,” said Rufus.

“Somebody is.” Chase still gripped his gun in both hands, although it was pointed at the floor.

“Mr. Prime Minister, what is going on here?” said Britchford, his voice coming unstuck. “Who is this man and is he dangerous like Mr. Chase and Mrs. Krebs believe?”

“Let’s sit like civilized people and talk,” said Rufus. He sat back in his overstuffed chair and Bretton lowered his hands and sat in the chair beside him. “Do sit, Mrs. Krebs.”

Renee returned uneasily to her seat. A shaken Roberts joined her while Chase stood directly to her side, eyes focused on Bretton. He holstered his gun inside his coat, but his hands involuntarily flexed as if waiting for a sign to spring into action again. Britchford sat in the third spot on the sofa next to Roberts and Renee. Everyone else either pulled up a heavy chair or stood nearby to hear what was said.

Rufus cleared his throat and spoke in the resonant, gruff voice that had made him an effective union organizer. “Mr. Chase and Mr. Roberts have done an excellent job in carrying out their search and finding a lovely candidate.” He nodded his head in Renee’s direction. “But it’s possible they weren’t as thorough as would have been hoped in such a critical case.”

“I beg your pardon!” said Roberts. “We interviewed every candidate according to the work of the genealogists. It was a weeks’ long process.”

Rufus cut him off. “Like I said, they did an excellent job, but perhaps they were prejudiced in their work?”

“How so?” demanded Chase.

“The Bretton claim is every bit as strong as the Montshire claim, yet they passed over Mr. Bretton in favor of Mrs. Krebs—”

“Because he’s insane!” said Chase.

“In favor of Mrs. Krebs’s obvious charms,” Rufus finished. “I’ve spoken with Mr. Bretton and he’s not insane at all. Very lucid, actually.”

“Psychopathy is a form of insanity,” countered Chase. “He is on trial for the murders of three women whom he strangled.”

There was a collective gasp in the room. Everyone stared at Bretton who merely waved his hand dismissively.

“All charges were dropped. They had the wrong man,” he said.

“You see? A complete misunderstanding,” said Rufus.

“And was it a misunderstanding when he tried to strangle Renee?” Chase’s posture was taut and a normal man would have withered under the intense glare of his eyes, but Bretton remained unmoved.

“Mom?” said Cassandra lifting her head from Renee’s shoulder. Renee whispered she would explain later.

It was Bretton who spoke. “Ah, yes…
that
. Before you so rudely barged in, the lady and I were in the midst of, ahem, an intimate moment.” For the first time since Bretton had entered the room, Chase tore his eyes from him and looked at Renee, who wanted nothing more than to disappear. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I was caressing her neck, not strangling it. As if anyone could harm such a lovely specimen.”

“Mrs. Krebs, is this true?” asked Rufus.

Renee felt flustered. Bretton was definitely dangerous, but she had allowed him into her home and had found him irresistible when he leaned in close to her. Even now, when she met those strange, clear eyes, she felt a little flutter in her stomach.

“I…I don’t know,” she stammered.

“If even the lady whom I’m accused of attacking doesn’t believe I attacked her, then why should any of you?” said Bretton.

There were murmurs of discussion and Renee noted that several heads nodded in agreement. She looked down the sofa at Britchford. His fingers were steepled together under his chin. His jolly demeanor was replaced with intense concentration and calculation.

“Why the secrecy, Neville? The search for the new monarch is a matter of national importance, regardless of party. You should have informed us that there was another candidate.”

“I’m sorry, Britch, but this only came to my attention yesterday.”

“But it’s already out that an heir has been selected and we’ve brought Mrs. Krebs all the way over here under the belief that she was to be queen. She’s already left her life back home and now you want to possibly send her back? You can’t put the bubbles back in the champagne bottle now.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

HOW DO YOU propose we resolve this?” asked Britchford.

“I suppose dueling is out?” whispered Roberts out of the side of his mouth.

“There will be nothing like that!” said Britchford.

“Pity. Mrs. Krebs is an excellent shot with a rifle.” Roberts looked extremely disgruntled.

The conversation had circled around for fifteen minutes. Renee sat there, sitting as regally as she could, but feeling miserable inside. Discussion continued while the two principle characters under discussion—Renee and Bretton—sat silently in opposite chairs. Whenever she met his eyes, he was staring directly at her. One time he grinned and winked. Renee started to smile in return and then caught herself. Every mistake she had ever made in her life could be traced back to the way her brain scrambled in the presence of a handsome man. Even when she knew the man was all wrong—and this one was wronger than most—she operated on impulse and that hadn’t exactly worked out for her.

She supposed a psychologist would tell her that her vulnerability to masculine attention was an attempt to replace a missing mother and a distant father, but that knowledge didn’t exactly help her. The guy whose motorcycle she had left home on? Gone in three months like Bobby McGee. After that was Keith, whose tattoos had seemed meaningful to her at the time. She had chickened out on getting a matching slashing bear claw tattoo, but the three stars along her shoulder blade were the reason why she kept her shawl draped over her shoulders despite the warmth of the room. After Keith was Mace, whom she had met in a bar and then saw him for the last time a year later behind bars when he was caught fencing stolen televisions sets. After Mace was Cassandra’s father who announced he was leaving the day after Renee had told him she was pregnant. He wasn’t ready, he said. She didn’t know where he was and it was for Cassandra’s sake that when she met Ray—who was stable and employed in the oil fields—she put aside any doubts and determined to make it work. And it had worked for long enough that despite increasing evidence to the contrary, she didn’t see leaving him as an option. Well, he had solved that problem by walking out with the rent money. She had just started to get herself together and stand on her own two feet without a man for the first time in over a decade, when Chase and Roberts had knocked on her door, offering to permanently change her life. She had not gone out looking for this and now another man was talking about changing the trajectory of her life once again. She was sick of feeling powerless, of feeling like a victim. That was not the example she wanted to set for her daughter.

Abruptly, she stood up and drew her shawl around her. The raging discussion fell silent and even the unflappable Bretton raised one eyebrow quizzically.

“I don’t intend on sitting here while you all act like high school boys daring each other to dance with me. Call me when you’ve made a decision.”

She didn’t pause to look around, but strode out of the grand room. Cassandra jumped up and followed her out, nose in the air. Renee didn’t stop until she was back in the checkerboard foyer. To her extreme relief, Chase and Roberts had come with her.

“I’m so sorry,” she said to Chase and Roberts. “I just couldn’t sit there any longer while they debated what to do with me as if I was some unwanted piece of furniture inherited from crazy Aunt Sally. And to actually consider that…that monster! I’m sorry, but I’ve got more pride than that.”

She crossed her arms, challenging them to contradict her. Cassandra crossed her arms as well.

Roberts surprised her. “You were perfectly right, Ma’am. What Rufus did is unconscionable. He had us traipsing around the globe for weeks and entrusted us with the decision. We were never out of contact with him; he knew exactly who we were talking to and approved the decision. To suddenly pull a stunt like this, well…it’s playing politics at the wrong moment! Isn’t that right, Chase.”

Chase remained grimly silent, but after a moment said, “I’ll call the car.”

The sounds of intense discussion floated down the halls and stairways. It sounded like an argument that would last all night. As they waited for the limousine to roll up to the door, Roberts patted her arm and said quietly, “Don’t worry, Britchford is fighting for you. I think he’s taken quite a fancy to you and he doesn’t fancy anybody except his Chihuahua.”

Renee glared at him, walked out to the car as soon as it rolled up and without waiting for somebody to open it for her, yanked open the door and climbed in. The others climbed in after her. She tapped on the window separating the driver from the passengers. When the driver rolled it down, she said, “Do you have a cigarette or am I going to have to hijack this vehicle to go find one?”

The driver fumbled in his pocket and handed her a cigarette and a lighter.

“How much for the whole pack?”

He handed the pack over the glass and held up his hand to indicate that she should keep it.

Roberts frowned.

“Does anybody want to say anything about this? No? Good.”

She lit the cigarette and inhaled deeply. Roberts rolled the window down, but wisely kept his mouth shut.