Next In Line
"Not everyone is convinced that he is suited for the job," said a very grumpy
heavy-set man sitting in the judge's box of a very small courtroom.
"Not suited for the job?" His grandmother's voice boomed through the room, the
noised roused a few of the board members that had dozed off during the meeting.
"It doesn't matter if you think he's suited for the job or not, he's next in line
for the throne. It belongs to him."
He could feel everyone's eyes on him, which just made more prominent the fact that
his suit was a size too big and that he hadn't had time to shower that morning. He
probably looked like a disheveled teenager who was unable to run a marathon, let
alone a country.
"He wasn't born here. He's never lived here. He knows none of our customs."
responded the man, apparently flustered by the older woman.
"He will learn." She barked back. The man sat there flabbergasted, as did Hunter.
The most upset he'd ever seen his grandmother was when she had to send back a cup
of tea for not being up to par, and even then she wrote a letter of apology that
she sent with it. He stared up at his grandmother, who was now straightening her
light pink blazer and matching skirt, in amazement.
"Sorry about raising my voice, Chancellor, but as the Queen I feel I am entitled
to some respect from all board members." She emphasized the word all and made
direct eye contact with the man behind the bench, "Besides, there is no one else
who could take the throne." Once she finished her sentence, one of the board
members perked up.
"Excuse me, my Queen." He said, rising from his spot, "There is actually another.
He is the son of Lord Mavery who was King Andrew's--'
"May he rest in peace," Chanted the entire room, Hunter a few beats off from the
others.
"- grandfather’s cousin. He is technically next in line for the throne, after
Hunter of course." He finished but stayed standing.
“Well, since Hunter is here, alive and well, it looks like we wont be needing this
other boy.” the Queen responded, all but glaring at the board member who spoke up.
Hunter thought his name might have been Burnes or Bums or some variation of that.
He was a tall, dark-haired man that looked as though he belonged in a security
detail and not in a boardroom. Hunter was intimidated by him, and would hand over
the crown if it meant never having to deal with him one-on-one.
“Actually, Article 34.6 of the Book of Law states that anyone in line for the
throne that is found unfit for duty by their 23rd birthday can be subject to
removal from their position.” The man then sat down, satisfied with himself. The
chancellor began hastily flipping through the Book of Law and noted that Viscount
Denholm was correct in his statement, and that on Hunter’s 23rd birthday he would
be subject to a screening by the board.
“His 23rd birthday is less than two months away.” his grandmother argued, “He has
to be given more time. One year?”
“The law is the law.” The chancellor stated, staring down at Hunter, “He has two
months to convince the people and the board that his is fit to be our king.”
-----
“Sir, your tie is not tied correctly.” Hunter’s valet, Charles, stood next to the
mirror holding his suit jacket. Hunter grumbled and undid the tie for the third
time; he let it lay loose around his neck and turned to address his valet.
“Do we have any clip-ons?” He asked pulling the tie off from around his neck and
tossing it onto a nearby chair.
“A clip on, sir?” Charles asked, helping him into his suit jacket.
“Never mind, I just wont wear a tie.” He said, straightening out his jacket and
admiring himself in the mirror.
“Sir, you can’t go out without a tie on. The Queen will have my head.” Charles
responded as he placed a fresh white pocket square into the breast pocket of his
suit. He straightened out the lapel before walking over to the tie rack. He picked
a dark blue one that matched the Westwood he was wearing. “May I, sir?” He asked
motioning to the tie. Hunter gave one quick nod and allowed the older man to fix
it for him. “Windsor knot, sir. It’s best kind if you ask me.” Charles said,
stepping back to admire his work.
“You know you can call me Hunter, right?” Asked the blonde, pulling slightly at
the knot to loosen it.
“No, sir. I couldn’t do that. It would be far too informal.” Charles said. He
grabbed his brush and began brushing off Hunter’s shoulders. If it weren’t for
Charles, Hunter would be in shambles, showing up in pajama bottoms and t-shirts
for events that were apparently business-professional, such as breakfast.
“You help me put my pants on, I don’t know how we could get more informal than
that.” Hunter said. Charles stepped away from him, which Hunter took as his cue to
leave. “Thank you, Charles.” Hunter said to the man as he left his room.
He had yet to get used to how quiet the halls were, he’d assumed that with over
two hundred and fifty staff members he was bound to run into at least a few maids
or footmen every time he left his room, but he’d been there for well over two
weeks and had yet to see a single staff member outside of their quarters, except
of course when they served them dinner and Charles. The usual guards were
positioned through out the hall, they all looked like carbon copies of one
another. Non-descript black suits, dark shade, crew cut hair and he was pretty
sure he once saw one of them dent a car with just their fist.
“David.” He said to the guard standing by the stairs. The man didn’t move, he
never moved. None of them did. Hunter descended the stairs, taking them two at a
time.
“You’re going to get hurt if you keep doing that.” Phoebe, his grandmother’s
friend and personal representative, said. She was at the bottom of the stairs in a
very unflattering pantsuit holding a clipboard with a sour look on her face.
“Phebs, I am a master of the stairs.” He said, taking her by the shoulders, “If
anyone is going to get hurt on them it’s going to be David up there. He’s
apparently very clumsy.” He released her and headed towards the dining room, “Look
out for that one.” He motioned above him to where David was standing. He slid into
the dining room in a less than graceful fashion. He’d not yet broken in his wing-
toed shoes and they had no traction on just waxed hardwood floors. His grandmother
was standing up, hand outstretched, as if that would’ve helped him had he actually
fallen.
“I’m fine.” He called over to her. She lowered her hand and looked at him
disapprovingly.
“We have some matters to discuss.” She said, taking her seat at the head of the
table. He made his way towards her and took his seat at her right. “I’m sure by
now Phoebe has told you all about this new boy, Lord Logan they call him.” She was
riffing though the papers on the table in front of her.
“Lord Logan?” He laughed, “That sounds like a character in a children’s novel.
Next thing you’ll tell me is that he’s on a mission to have a beautiful princess.”
“Maybe not a princess.” Phoebe muttered, coming up beside Hunter. He was far too
surprised by her sudden appearance to register what she had actually said. Phoebe
had this weird way about her, she never sat down or ate anything, and Hunter was
more than convinced that she was a robot. He tried to sneak a peek in her room at
night to see if she was charging, but always ended up lost somewhere in the
castle, unable to find her room.
“His Lordship shall be arriving shortly.” Phoebe said to her Majesty, she placed a
hand on Hunter’s shoulder, “May the Lord be with us.” she said quietly and then
she lifted her hand and walked out of the room.
“What did she mean?” Hunter asked his grandmother.
“Oh, you know Phoebe. Always so melodramatic.” She said. She slid on her reading
glasses and read over one of the many pages that lay in front of her.
“Not about the Lord being with us… but about his Lordship being with us.” He said.
His grandmother pulled off her glasses and gave him an exasperated look.
“Why ask a question if you know the answer to it?” She asked him. She laid her
glasses on the table and pushed her chair back.
“Why is he here? Did Parliament invite him? Those bastards.” He said, placing his
elbows on the table.
“No.” His grandmother replied standing up and sauntering over to the door, “I did.
Now, come along.” Hunter quickly got up from his seat and followed his
grandmother.
“You did what?” He asked angrily as they arrived in the foyer, “Why?”
“I offered to have him kept in the dungeon, if that’s any consolation.” Phoebe
stated, standing off to the side.
“Now, hush you two,” his grandmother scolded, “Also, if there is any mischief
going on, I’d prefer it be done right under my nose.” Phoebe gave a small sigh,
exited the foyer, and made her way out onto the lawn. Hunter threw his arms up and
let them fall to his sides with a heavy ‘thunk’.
“I don’t want to be nice to this guy.” He groaned, his grandmother simply rolled
her eyes. “He’s probably an asshole. He just comes out of nowhere and suddenly
wants to be king. What is that?”
“It doesn’t matter what type of person he is. You will conduct yourself in a
manner that is suitable for a prince. You will be charming.” She said, grabbing
him by his arm and turning him towards the entrance. “Smile.” She chirped,
steadying herself next to him. He forced the best smile he could manage as the
herald announced the arrival of the Viscount Grisham and Lord Lerman.
“Your highness and your majesty.” Viscount Grisham said as he strode into the
foyer. He gave a small bow to Hunter and kisses the Queen’s hand, a young dark-
haired boy came in behind him. “Allow me to introduce my nephew, Lord Lerman.” He
motioned to the boy who was standing at his right and now sizing up Hunter the
same was Hunter was sizing up him.
‘I could take him in a fight.’ He thought, ‘He can’t be more than 130 pounds on a
good day. Besides he’s a child, looks barely sixteen.
“Logan, it is wonderful to finally meet you.” his grandmother laughed and smiled,
his smile turned into a grimace.
“The pleasure is all mine.” Logan responded, finally looking away from Hunter. He
followed his uncle’s cue and kissed her outstretched hand. “Also, I would like to
thank you for inviting me to stay with you here at the council.”
“Might as well kiss her ass while you’re at it.” Hunter said nonchalantly, as if
he often told people to kiss the Queen’s ass. Everyone in the room looked
thoroughly shocked, except for Phoebe who was sporting a smug smile.
“Please excuse my grandson. His humor is very…” She paused trying to figure out
the correct word to use, “American.” Hunter huffed and rolled his eyes. That was
everyone’s excuse for him.
“I don’t think it’s because he’s American,” Logan said. His attention was once
again focused on Hunter. He was somehow able to be intense while looking apathetic
and that more than freaked Hunter out, “It’s because he has no manners.” Hunter
knew it was his turn to look shocked, but with his furrowed bro it was more than
obvious that he was confused.
“You can’t talk to me like that.” Hunter stated matter-o-factly.
“I can talk to you anyway I like.” Logan responded, he held Hunter’s gaze, which
forced Hunter to look away first.
“Prick.” Hunter muttered, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Prat.” Logan responded at the same volume. Hunter was fuming, so in one swift he
turned and stomped off up the stairs towards his room. He heard his grandmother’s
calls, but chose to ignore them. He wasn’t going to stand around pretending to
like that man-child who was trying to steal the throne from him.
-----
He heard the Viscount leave a little over an hour later. That meant that they had
mid-morning tea together, Hunter’s stomach growled at the thought. He’d been
hiding away in his room since the confrontation that morning, and he’d not eaten
anything since the night before. The door opened and Hunter shot up out of his bed
to find his valet.
“Her Majesty the Queen would like me to tell you that the chef has been asked to
prepare your breakfast.” Charles said, he then bowed and left the room. The fact
that Charles told him that, and not the Queen herself, put into perspective just
how upset his grandmother was at him.
Still, his hunger outweighed his guilt so he left his room and made his way down
to the kitchen. Normally, he would’ve eaten in the dining hall, but he was far
less likely to run into his grandmother or Phoebe or Logan in the kitchen. He
slinked around the palace, even though he was sure that his grandmother was in her
office reading over the daily news and that Phoebe was on her daily visit to the
village. He crept down the back staircase and was suddenly surrounded by staff
members running to or from their duties. The house steward was lecturing two of
the footmen, Hunter was pretty sure they were Jonas and Kyle, about the
appropriate placement of silverware.
When he noticed Hunter he dismissed the two boys who quickly scurried off to tend
to their duties for the day. He made his way over to Hunter.
“My Lord,” He said, positioning himself next to Hunter, “Did you need something or
someone? I believe Charles is upstairs.”
“I’m eating my breakfast down here.” Hunter said, “I hope that’s okay.”
“Of course it’s okay, my Lord, I believe you know your way to the kitchen.” He
said, gesturing down the hall. Hunter nodded and left the Steward to his business.
He entered the kitchen to find their cook, Mrs. Rogers, finishing up his meal.
“Oh, Hun’er, I wasn’t expec’ing you do’n here.” She said, her accent was much
thicker than the other staff; “I heard you got’n a bit of a squabble with the new
Lord who’s staying here.” She slid the plate across the island in the middle of
the kitchen and set up his silverware.
“Thank you for this.” He said making his way over to the stool the plate was set
up in front of.
“I’s my job,” She said before calling in her kitchen maid to clean the stove.
Hunter ate his food slowly. Eggs benedict was his favorite food, but he couldn’t
quite enjoy it the way he normally would, “Do you wan’a talk about it?” Mrs.
Rogers asked. She was across the island from him leaning on her elbows.
“Nothing to talk about.” He said taking another bite. The cook shook her head and
pushed herself off the island. There was a loud commotion out in the hall; someone
had arrived that was causing quite a fuss. He could head the Steward telling the
visitor that he wasn’t expecting him to be down here.
“Just having a look around the castle.” Responded the visitor, “Just getting to
know more about the place I’ll be staying.” Hunter groaned and dropped his fork
onto his plate. The last thing he wanted was to talk to or be near that jackass
that was passing himself off as a Lord. He got up from his chair and thanked Mrs.
Rogers, who was looking out the door at the visitor.
“Is he the Lord?” She asked Hunter, who groaned again. “He’s quite attrac’ive, if
I do say.”
“No, no.” Hunter said peering around the corner; he could see the back of the
brunette’s head, “Don’t ever say that again. He’s terrible in every conceivable
way.”
Logan was gone just as fast as he’d come. It was probably because the Housemaid
started talking to him, and she was a bit too much for anyone to talk to for a
long time. Hunter left the kitchen after thanking the cook once again for
breakfast. He made is way up the back steps and into a sitting room.
“Should’ve know you were the reason they didn’t want me down there.” Hunter’s
shoulders fell when he heard the voice that was slowly becoming familiar to him.
He didn’t turn around to look at the boy, instead he kept his eyes forward and
looking He heard the boy let out a small sigh and take a deep breath, ready to
continue.
“I’m… sorry about this morning.” Hunter interjected before Logan could say
anything. He then took a deep breath and left the brunette alone in the room.
---
It took a full day and lots of apologizing for his grandmother to start talking to
him again. It was the next morning and he was sitting in the theatre with both his
grandma and Phoebe, talking about the best way to go about convincing Parliament
he was worthy of the crown.
“After that display yesterday I’m sure Viscount Denholm is going to have quite a
few words with them.” His grandmother stated.
“There are a few garden parties that have been planned for here at the castle, the
annual harvest parade, and finally Hunter’s birthday party coming up for him to
make a good impression.” Phoebe read from her clipboard then looked up at Hunter
with an intense stare, “Also some of the girls that you’ve been with for the last
few summers are planning on coming to these parties.”
“Could you maybe be a bit more subtle?” Hunter said leaning back in his chair.
“Honestly Hunter, you really should think about courting one of them.” His
grandmother said, “It would be good for your image. A commoner and a Prince, you
know how the people just eat that up.” She nodded to Phoebe who turned on the
projector for the room, “We’ve set up some profiles of the eligible girls.”
“Great, this is just how I wanted to spend my morning, scoping out chicks with my
grandmother.” Hunter said annoyed.
---
They’d narrowed it down to three girls and Phoebe had gone off to invite each of
them to tea at the castle, on separate days of course. His grandmother had to make
a call to the American Ambassador, which left Hunter to have lunch on his own. He
felt overwhelmed sitting at their large dining room table. There were twenty empty
seats, and he was an island of one. He began serving himself as soon as he could.
“Not going to wait for your guest? Now that’s just rude.” Hunter turned around to
see Logan sauntering into the room. He looked as if he’d just woken up, which was
shocking to Hunter. Not only because it was noon, but because no valet would ever
let someone leave their room looking like that when they might run into the queen.
Hunter felt severely over dressed in his blazer and button down shirt.
“Didn’t know you’d be joining me.” Hunter said, he was trying to watch Logan while
making it appear like he wasn’t. The brunette got his food and took the seat
across from Hunter. While Logan looked completely disheveled, he was very proper
when it came to table manners, which made Hunter even more intrigued by the
stranger. He’d never admit that though.
“I’d never miss a meal.” Logan said before taking a large bite out of his biscuit.
“You missed breakfast.” Hunter said quietly.
“Breakfast isn’t a meal.” Logan said, to which Hunter simply looked confused,
“Breakfast is a trick used to con kid into waking up early.”
“You’re a strange boy.” Hunter said. They both ate their lunch in silence. Hunter
finished before Logan, and got up to leave.
“Where are you off to?” Logan asked, he’d stopped mid-bite.
“I was going to go down to the village,” Hunter said, “I’ve got to pick a few
things up.” Logan’s eyes lit up at the word village, which Hunter took as a sign
that he was going to want to come. He sighed and dropped his shoulders, “You can
come if you want.” It took Logan no time at all to finish his meal and dash up the
stairs to change.
“I assume you’ll be needing the chauffer.” Johansson, one of the two butlers in
the house stated to Hunter.
“Looks like it.” Hunter responded.
heavy-set man sitting in the judge's box of a very small courtroom.
"Not suited for the job?" His grandmother's voice boomed through the room, the
noised roused a few of the board members that had dozed off during the meeting.
"It doesn't matter if you think he's suited for the job or not, he's next in line
for the throne. It belongs to him."
He could feel everyone's eyes on him, which just made more prominent the fact that
his suit was a size too big and that he hadn't had time to shower that morning. He
probably looked like a disheveled teenager who was unable to run a marathon, let
alone a country.
"He wasn't born here. He's never lived here. He knows none of our customs."
responded the man, apparently flustered by the older woman.
"He will learn." She barked back. The man sat there flabbergasted, as did Hunter.
The most upset he'd ever seen his grandmother was when she had to send back a cup
of tea for not being up to par, and even then she wrote a letter of apology that
she sent with it. He stared up at his grandmother, who was now straightening her
light pink blazer and matching skirt, in amazement.
"Sorry about raising my voice, Chancellor, but as the Queen I feel I am entitled
to some respect from all board members." She emphasized the word all and made
direct eye contact with the man behind the bench, "Besides, there is no one else
who could take the throne." Once she finished her sentence, one of the board
members perked up.
"Excuse me, my Queen." He said, rising from his spot, "There is actually another.
He is the son of Lord Mavery who was King Andrew's--'
"May he rest in peace," Chanted the entire room, Hunter a few beats off from the
others.
"- grandfather’s cousin. He is technically next in line for the throne, after
Hunter of course." He finished but stayed standing.
“Well, since Hunter is here, alive and well, it looks like we wont be needing this
other boy.” the Queen responded, all but glaring at the board member who spoke up.
Hunter thought his name might have been Burnes or Bums or some variation of that.
He was a tall, dark-haired man that looked as though he belonged in a security
detail and not in a boardroom. Hunter was intimidated by him, and would hand over
the crown if it meant never having to deal with him one-on-one.
“Actually, Article 34.6 of the Book of Law states that anyone in line for the
throne that is found unfit for duty by their 23rd birthday can be subject to
removal from their position.” The man then sat down, satisfied with himself. The
chancellor began hastily flipping through the Book of Law and noted that Viscount
Denholm was correct in his statement, and that on Hunter’s 23rd birthday he would
be subject to a screening by the board.
“His 23rd birthday is less than two months away.” his grandmother argued, “He has
to be given more time. One year?”
“The law is the law.” The chancellor stated, staring down at Hunter, “He has two
months to convince the people and the board that his is fit to be our king.”
-----
“Sir, your tie is not tied correctly.” Hunter’s valet, Charles, stood next to the
mirror holding his suit jacket. Hunter grumbled and undid the tie for the third
time; he let it lay loose around his neck and turned to address his valet.
“Do we have any clip-ons?” He asked pulling the tie off from around his neck and
tossing it onto a nearby chair.
“A clip on, sir?” Charles asked, helping him into his suit jacket.
“Never mind, I just wont wear a tie.” He said, straightening out his jacket and
admiring himself in the mirror.
“Sir, you can’t go out without a tie on. The Queen will have my head.” Charles
responded as he placed a fresh white pocket square into the breast pocket of his
suit. He straightened out the lapel before walking over to the tie rack. He picked
a dark blue one that matched the Westwood he was wearing. “May I, sir?” He asked
motioning to the tie. Hunter gave one quick nod and allowed the older man to fix
it for him. “Windsor knot, sir. It’s best kind if you ask me.” Charles said,
stepping back to admire his work.
“You know you can call me Hunter, right?” Asked the blonde, pulling slightly at
the knot to loosen it.
“No, sir. I couldn’t do that. It would be far too informal.” Charles said. He
grabbed his brush and began brushing off Hunter’s shoulders. If it weren’t for
Charles, Hunter would be in shambles, showing up in pajama bottoms and t-shirts
for events that were apparently business-professional, such as breakfast.
“You help me put my pants on, I don’t know how we could get more informal than
that.” Hunter said. Charles stepped away from him, which Hunter took as his cue to
leave. “Thank you, Charles.” Hunter said to the man as he left his room.
He had yet to get used to how quiet the halls were, he’d assumed that with over
two hundred and fifty staff members he was bound to run into at least a few maids
or footmen every time he left his room, but he’d been there for well over two
weeks and had yet to see a single staff member outside of their quarters, except
of course when they served them dinner and Charles. The usual guards were
positioned through out the hall, they all looked like carbon copies of one
another. Non-descript black suits, dark shade, crew cut hair and he was pretty
sure he once saw one of them dent a car with just their fist.
“David.” He said to the guard standing by the stairs. The man didn’t move, he
never moved. None of them did. Hunter descended the stairs, taking them two at a
time.
“You’re going to get hurt if you keep doing that.” Phoebe, his grandmother’s
friend and personal representative, said. She was at the bottom of the stairs in a
very unflattering pantsuit holding a clipboard with a sour look on her face.
“Phebs, I am a master of the stairs.” He said, taking her by the shoulders, “If
anyone is going to get hurt on them it’s going to be David up there. He’s
apparently very clumsy.” He released her and headed towards the dining room, “Look
out for that one.” He motioned above him to where David was standing. He slid into
the dining room in a less than graceful fashion. He’d not yet broken in his wing-
toed shoes and they had no traction on just waxed hardwood floors. His grandmother
was standing up, hand outstretched, as if that would’ve helped him had he actually
fallen.
“I’m fine.” He called over to her. She lowered her hand and looked at him
disapprovingly.
“We have some matters to discuss.” She said, taking her seat at the head of the
table. He made his way towards her and took his seat at her right. “I’m sure by
now Phoebe has told you all about this new boy, Lord Logan they call him.” She was
riffing though the papers on the table in front of her.
“Lord Logan?” He laughed, “That sounds like a character in a children’s novel.
Next thing you’ll tell me is that he’s on a mission to have a beautiful princess.”
“Maybe not a princess.” Phoebe muttered, coming up beside Hunter. He was far too
surprised by her sudden appearance to register what she had actually said. Phoebe
had this weird way about her, she never sat down or ate anything, and Hunter was
more than convinced that she was a robot. He tried to sneak a peek in her room at
night to see if she was charging, but always ended up lost somewhere in the
castle, unable to find her room.
“His Lordship shall be arriving shortly.” Phoebe said to her Majesty, she placed a
hand on Hunter’s shoulder, “May the Lord be with us.” she said quietly and then
she lifted her hand and walked out of the room.
“What did she mean?” Hunter asked his grandmother.
“Oh, you know Phoebe. Always so melodramatic.” She said. She slid on her reading
glasses and read over one of the many pages that lay in front of her.
“Not about the Lord being with us… but about his Lordship being with us.” He said.
His grandmother pulled off her glasses and gave him an exasperated look.
“Why ask a question if you know the answer to it?” She asked him. She laid her
glasses on the table and pushed her chair back.
“Why is he here? Did Parliament invite him? Those bastards.” He said, placing his
elbows on the table.
“No.” His grandmother replied standing up and sauntering over to the door, “I did.
Now, come along.” Hunter quickly got up from his seat and followed his
grandmother.
“You did what?” He asked angrily as they arrived in the foyer, “Why?”
“I offered to have him kept in the dungeon, if that’s any consolation.” Phoebe
stated, standing off to the side.
“Now, hush you two,” his grandmother scolded, “Also, if there is any mischief
going on, I’d prefer it be done right under my nose.” Phoebe gave a small sigh,
exited the foyer, and made her way out onto the lawn. Hunter threw his arms up and
let them fall to his sides with a heavy ‘thunk’.
“I don’t want to be nice to this guy.” He groaned, his grandmother simply rolled
her eyes. “He’s probably an asshole. He just comes out of nowhere and suddenly
wants to be king. What is that?”
“It doesn’t matter what type of person he is. You will conduct yourself in a
manner that is suitable for a prince. You will be charming.” She said, grabbing
him by his arm and turning him towards the entrance. “Smile.” She chirped,
steadying herself next to him. He forced the best smile he could manage as the
herald announced the arrival of the Viscount Grisham and Lord Lerman.
“Your highness and your majesty.” Viscount Grisham said as he strode into the
foyer. He gave a small bow to Hunter and kisses the Queen’s hand, a young dark-
haired boy came in behind him. “Allow me to introduce my nephew, Lord Lerman.” He
motioned to the boy who was standing at his right and now sizing up Hunter the
same was Hunter was sizing up him.
‘I could take him in a fight.’ He thought, ‘He can’t be more than 130 pounds on a
good day. Besides he’s a child, looks barely sixteen.
“Logan, it is wonderful to finally meet you.” his grandmother laughed and smiled,
his smile turned into a grimace.
“The pleasure is all mine.” Logan responded, finally looking away from Hunter. He
followed his uncle’s cue and kissed her outstretched hand. “Also, I would like to
thank you for inviting me to stay with you here at the council.”
“Might as well kiss her ass while you’re at it.” Hunter said nonchalantly, as if
he often told people to kiss the Queen’s ass. Everyone in the room looked
thoroughly shocked, except for Phoebe who was sporting a smug smile.
“Please excuse my grandson. His humor is very…” She paused trying to figure out
the correct word to use, “American.” Hunter huffed and rolled his eyes. That was
everyone’s excuse for him.
“I don’t think it’s because he’s American,” Logan said. His attention was once
again focused on Hunter. He was somehow able to be intense while looking apathetic
and that more than freaked Hunter out, “It’s because he has no manners.” Hunter
knew it was his turn to look shocked, but with his furrowed bro it was more than
obvious that he was confused.
“You can’t talk to me like that.” Hunter stated matter-o-factly.
“I can talk to you anyway I like.” Logan responded, he held Hunter’s gaze, which
forced Hunter to look away first.
“Prick.” Hunter muttered, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Prat.” Logan responded at the same volume. Hunter was fuming, so in one swift he
turned and stomped off up the stairs towards his room. He heard his grandmother’s
calls, but chose to ignore them. He wasn’t going to stand around pretending to
like that man-child who was trying to steal the throne from him.
-----
He heard the Viscount leave a little over an hour later. That meant that they had
mid-morning tea together, Hunter’s stomach growled at the thought. He’d been
hiding away in his room since the confrontation that morning, and he’d not eaten
anything since the night before. The door opened and Hunter shot up out of his bed
to find his valet.
“Her Majesty the Queen would like me to tell you that the chef has been asked to
prepare your breakfast.” Charles said, he then bowed and left the room. The fact
that Charles told him that, and not the Queen herself, put into perspective just
how upset his grandmother was at him.
Still, his hunger outweighed his guilt so he left his room and made his way down
to the kitchen. Normally, he would’ve eaten in the dining hall, but he was far
less likely to run into his grandmother or Phoebe or Logan in the kitchen. He
slinked around the palace, even though he was sure that his grandmother was in her
office reading over the daily news and that Phoebe was on her daily visit to the
village. He crept down the back staircase and was suddenly surrounded by staff
members running to or from their duties. The house steward was lecturing two of
the footmen, Hunter was pretty sure they were Jonas and Kyle, about the
appropriate placement of silverware.
When he noticed Hunter he dismissed the two boys who quickly scurried off to tend
to their duties for the day. He made his way over to Hunter.
“My Lord,” He said, positioning himself next to Hunter, “Did you need something or
someone? I believe Charles is upstairs.”
“I’m eating my breakfast down here.” Hunter said, “I hope that’s okay.”
“Of course it’s okay, my Lord, I believe you know your way to the kitchen.” He
said, gesturing down the hall. Hunter nodded and left the Steward to his business.
He entered the kitchen to find their cook, Mrs. Rogers, finishing up his meal.
“Oh, Hun’er, I wasn’t expec’ing you do’n here.” She said, her accent was much
thicker than the other staff; “I heard you got’n a bit of a squabble with the new
Lord who’s staying here.” She slid the plate across the island in the middle of
the kitchen and set up his silverware.
“Thank you for this.” He said making his way over to the stool the plate was set
up in front of.
“I’s my job,” She said before calling in her kitchen maid to clean the stove.
Hunter ate his food slowly. Eggs benedict was his favorite food, but he couldn’t
quite enjoy it the way he normally would, “Do you wan’a talk about it?” Mrs.
Rogers asked. She was across the island from him leaning on her elbows.
“Nothing to talk about.” He said taking another bite. The cook shook her head and
pushed herself off the island. There was a loud commotion out in the hall; someone
had arrived that was causing quite a fuss. He could head the Steward telling the
visitor that he wasn’t expecting him to be down here.
“Just having a look around the castle.” Responded the visitor, “Just getting to
know more about the place I’ll be staying.” Hunter groaned and dropped his fork
onto his plate. The last thing he wanted was to talk to or be near that jackass
that was passing himself off as a Lord. He got up from his chair and thanked Mrs.
Rogers, who was looking out the door at the visitor.
“Is he the Lord?” She asked Hunter, who groaned again. “He’s quite attrac’ive, if
I do say.”
“No, no.” Hunter said peering around the corner; he could see the back of the
brunette’s head, “Don’t ever say that again. He’s terrible in every conceivable
way.”
Logan was gone just as fast as he’d come. It was probably because the Housemaid
started talking to him, and she was a bit too much for anyone to talk to for a
long time. Hunter left the kitchen after thanking the cook once again for
breakfast. He made is way up the back steps and into a sitting room.
“Should’ve know you were the reason they didn’t want me down there.” Hunter’s
shoulders fell when he heard the voice that was slowly becoming familiar to him.
He didn’t turn around to look at the boy, instead he kept his eyes forward and
looking He heard the boy let out a small sigh and take a deep breath, ready to
continue.
“I’m… sorry about this morning.” Hunter interjected before Logan could say
anything. He then took a deep breath and left the brunette alone in the room.
---
It took a full day and lots of apologizing for his grandmother to start talking to
him again. It was the next morning and he was sitting in the theatre with both his
grandma and Phoebe, talking about the best way to go about convincing Parliament
he was worthy of the crown.
“After that display yesterday I’m sure Viscount Denholm is going to have quite a
few words with them.” His grandmother stated.
“There are a few garden parties that have been planned for here at the castle, the
annual harvest parade, and finally Hunter’s birthday party coming up for him to
make a good impression.” Phoebe read from her clipboard then looked up at Hunter
with an intense stare, “Also some of the girls that you’ve been with for the last
few summers are planning on coming to these parties.”
“Could you maybe be a bit more subtle?” Hunter said leaning back in his chair.
“Honestly Hunter, you really should think about courting one of them.” His
grandmother said, “It would be good for your image. A commoner and a Prince, you
know how the people just eat that up.” She nodded to Phoebe who turned on the
projector for the room, “We’ve set up some profiles of the eligible girls.”
“Great, this is just how I wanted to spend my morning, scoping out chicks with my
grandmother.” Hunter said annoyed.
---
They’d narrowed it down to three girls and Phoebe had gone off to invite each of
them to tea at the castle, on separate days of course. His grandmother had to make
a call to the American Ambassador, which left Hunter to have lunch on his own. He
felt overwhelmed sitting at their large dining room table. There were twenty empty
seats, and he was an island of one. He began serving himself as soon as he could.
“Not going to wait for your guest? Now that’s just rude.” Hunter turned around to
see Logan sauntering into the room. He looked as if he’d just woken up, which was
shocking to Hunter. Not only because it was noon, but because no valet would ever
let someone leave their room looking like that when they might run into the queen.
Hunter felt severely over dressed in his blazer and button down shirt.
“Didn’t know you’d be joining me.” Hunter said, he was trying to watch Logan while
making it appear like he wasn’t. The brunette got his food and took the seat
across from Hunter. While Logan looked completely disheveled, he was very proper
when it came to table manners, which made Hunter even more intrigued by the
stranger. He’d never admit that though.
“I’d never miss a meal.” Logan said before taking a large bite out of his biscuit.
“You missed breakfast.” Hunter said quietly.
“Breakfast isn’t a meal.” Logan said, to which Hunter simply looked confused,
“Breakfast is a trick used to con kid into waking up early.”
“You’re a strange boy.” Hunter said. They both ate their lunch in silence. Hunter
finished before Logan, and got up to leave.
“Where are you off to?” Logan asked, he’d stopped mid-bite.
“I was going to go down to the village,” Hunter said, “I’ve got to pick a few
things up.” Logan’s eyes lit up at the word village, which Hunter took as a sign
that he was going to want to come. He sighed and dropped his shoulders, “You can
come if you want.” It took Logan no time at all to finish his meal and dash up the
stairs to change.
“I assume you’ll be needing the chauffer.” Johansson, one of the two butlers in
the house stated to Hunter.
“Looks like it.” Hunter responded.