His Royal Licentiousness


Prince Edward and Not-a Swan In Whirlwind Romance



Speculate no further! The relationship between our favorite royal and Esme Platt’s ugly stepsister is as real as it can get.

An insider close to Not-a Swan told us, “He’s very into her. Not only has he shown up to her office in person, you wouldn’t believe the flower arrangements he’s sent her.” When asked exactly how serious their fledgling romance is, our source elaborated, “It’s as serious as it gets. She’s spending nights at the Palace, and he asked her to sign a Non-Disclosure Agreement.”

If that’s not real, we don’t know what is.

So why Not-a Swan? Why now?

Ever since Prince Edward returned from his latest “humanitarian mission”, it’s been rumored that he was called home from abroad because the Queen thinks it’s high time he settled down. As far as royal wives go, Not-a Swan is the ideal candidate.

For starters, her family has already been fully vetted by Her Majesty. Any skeletons in the Platt or Swan closet would surely be out by now. Thanks to her sister, she’s already a Palace insider, privy to its everyday happenings and practices and therefore well aware of what she’s getting into. Even if things progress between them quickly, she won’t be blindsided by what’s expected of her the way Princess Elizabeth was, nor will she find life behind the Palace walls isolating. After all, she’ll have her sister to keep her company.

Granted, Not-a Swan is well…not exactly a swan. But she does come with a certain pedigree. Her mother is a Grade-A MILF, her father a computer genius. In the brains department, Not-a isn’t exactly a slouch herself. Despite being the boss’s daughter, our sources at Dot Swan agree Not-a’s rapid climb up the corporate ladder has had nothing to do with nepotism and everything to do with her own business acumen. And isn’t it about time Prince Edward did something other than go on extended “humanitarian missions”? No doubt Her Majesty is hoping Not-a will have a stabilizing influence on Prince Edward.

Regardless, there’s one thing we all agree on here at Royal Bitch: the two years of Princess lessons Esme is rumored to have endured will look like nothing when compared to what Masen Palace will likely require of her sister.

COMMENTS (showing 8 of 8)

Lady In Waiting

Right. If they’re so serious, why was he out with Kate Danvers the other night?

 

Troll E. McCavetroll

Because he likes the cock! The cock, the cock, the cock cock cock! And we all know Lady Kate is a tranny hooker.

 

His Royal Gayness

I KNEW IT!

 

Monarch Shutterly

I call bullshit. Kate’s definitely female. I got pics of her tits a few years ago when she was on the beach in France.

 

Troll E. McCavetroll

I never claimed she didn’t have top surgery. But when she goes to picnics, she ALWAYS brings the pork and beans.

 

Assman 11

Any pics of her ass? I’d tap that.

 

Troll E. McCavetroll

Hope you’re prepared to give her the reach-around.

 

future royal baby mama

you’re all disgusting

 

COMMENTS ON THIS POST ARE CLOSED

It isn’t until I’m in the shower that it hits me—I have to get that list back to Edward’s bedroom before he notices it’s gone. That is, of course, if he hasn’t already. I start to panic, then I realize no bad can come from this. The worst that can happen is that he never speaks to me again. To be honest, that’d make my life a hell of a lot easier. The last thing I need is to be crushing on a manwhore.

Except I’m not crushing on him—not really. It’s just been so long since a guy with nothing to gain from being with me took an interest. Couple that with his good looks and my four-year sex drought, it’s only natural that his persistence would start to crumble my resolve. I’m just glad I found that list before I became emotionally involved. Still, I should at least try to smuggle the list back to his room, if for no other reason than Esme and Carlisle’s wedding will be mighty awkward if I don’t.

When I get out of the shower, Esme’s sitting on the bed. Her jaw drops when she sees me.

“So it is true. I can’t believe you spent the night here.”

“It shouldn’t be that shocking. Carlisle said he’d have the Palace Guard detain me if I didn’t, remember?”

“He was kidding.”

“Great,” I say, rolling my eyes. “Now you tell me.”

“Oh please.” She waves her hand dismissively. “As if you didn’t know that last night.”

“I didn’t know that last night! What, do you think I actually wanted to spend time alone with His Royal Perpetually Highness?”

She shrugs. “Even you admit he’s not bad to look at. So what happened after I went to bed? I want all the details.”

“We don’t have time for that right now. This morning, His Royal Vomitous left me a note saying to help myself to anything I needed. After last night, what I really needed was information—”

“No, Bella,” she says, shaking her head. “Tell me you didn’t go snooping.”

“The man kissed me then carried me off to his apartment. A little due diligence was in order.”

“He kissed you?”

“Yes.”

“And?” She gestures for me to continue. “Come on, you can’t stop there.”

“At first, it was nice. Then he shoved his hand down my pants and I slapped him. Can we talk about this later? There are more pressing matters at hand.” I retrieve His Royal To-Do List from underneath my folded clothing and hand it to Esme. “I have no idea what this is, but I was holding it when he came home and found me in his bedroom. I didn’t want him to know I was snooping, so I shoved it into my pants and made up some story about looking for towels. Before we do anything else, we need to figure out how to get this back into his bedroom before he notices it’s missing.”

After she scans the page, she hides her face in her hand and sighs. “Unbelievable.”

“I know, right? A list of potential conquests? What kind of guy objectifies women like that? Meanwhile, he claims he only pulls out the NDA when he’s already into someone. If that’s true, then why aren’t I on the list?”

She gives me the side-eye.

“What?”

“This list isn’t what you think it is,” she says.

“Right. That’s what you’re always saying about the Royal Family, but you never bother to explain how I’m wrong.”

“Okay.” She slides off the bed onto her feet. “I’ll take care of this.”

“But what—?”

“I said, I’ll care take of it,” she says, walking to the door.

Her voice is clipped, and I can tell she’s pissed off.

“Wait!”

She turns to look at me when I call out to her.

“Before you go…” I sigh. “Thank you.”

“I’m not doing this for you.” She opens the door and steps out into the hallway. “Your laptop and purse are out in the living room. If the world is fair, right now Edward’s going through your browser history.”

“Come on, Esme. You used to do stuff like this all the—”

“I’ll talk to you later.” She holds up her hand to me then calls down the hallway, “Edward? Would you come for a walk with me in the garden?”

“Esme…” I stop when I realize I’m alone.

Apparently, even heavy palace doors can be slammed.

 

People do all sorts of crazy things when they’re feeling guilty. My grandmother used to pray the rosary. My father writes five-digit checks to charity. I prefer to atone by doing something nice for the wronged party. From what I can tell, there’s only one thing I could do for Edward that he can’t do for himself. I don’t care how bad I feel about going through his stuff—there’s no way I’m having sex with His Royal Licentiousness. However, he told me in the note he left this morning that he didn’t employ any household help. So once I’m dressed and my hair is reasonably tamed, I strip the linens from the bed I slept in and cart them to the laundry room, using the time it takes for them to wash and dry to catch up on some work. As soon as I open my laptop, I’m bombarded with emails from Heidi asking why I haven’t been answering my phone. I go to call her back, only to realize I don’t have my phone.

I retrace my steps. The last time I used it was last night in Esme’s apartment.

Seriously?

When I’m not in the office, I live on that thing. Had I really gone over fourteen hours without noticing it was gone? I know I must have, but it’s still hard to believe. What’s even more shocking is that I don’t miss it. As weird as this morning has been, it was still nice not feeling tied to the office. I can’t remember the last time I went this long without doing anything work-related.

After I get the sheets out of the dryer, I make the bed in the guest room, all the while marvelling at how freeing it feels not to be in a panic over meetings and deadlines. When the pillows are fluffed to my satisfaction, I make my way through the Palace to Esme’s apartment.

As many times as I’ve visited Esme here since moving back to The Westerlands after grad school, I never paid much attention to the Palace itself, except to note that it was very large and very stodgy. While the public areas are certainly grand enough, the corridor separating Edward’s apartment from Carlisle and Esme’s is a bit rundown. Sure, there are marble floors, twenty-foot ceilings, and enormous portraits of dead royals hung in gilded frames, but there are also patches of peeling wallpaper and chipped paint. Now that the morning sun is pouring through the enormous leaded-glass windows, it’s obvious the velvet drapes are more than a little faded. How easily people buy into the mythology of royalty when, in all truth, the only thing differentiating Masen Palace from any other aging mansion is its name.

No one answers the first time I knock on Esme’s door—or the second or the third, for that matter. Figuring she must still be outside with Edward, I try the knob. It turns and the door opens. I’m pretty sure I know where my phone is; I’m just going to run in, grab it, and run out.

When I hear Edward and Esme’s muffled voices, I freeze in place.

“I can’t believe you had Bella do your dirty work for you,” Edward says.

Great. Even though I have a legitimate reason for being here—I do need my phone, after all—in the context of what happened this morning, Esme’s going to think I came with the express purpose of eavesdropping. I can’t win.

Why can’t she have a butler like the rest of the Royal Family?

“How I found out doesn’t matter,” she says. “I can’t believe you! You promised me you wouldn’t…”

“Don’t cry, Esme.” His voice is gentle, soothing.

“You said it wouldn’t change anything if we…and now…” She blows her nose.

“Shush now. It’ll all work out. We’ll be okay—you’ll see.”

“But will we be happy?” she asks. “Both of us, I mean?”

“You know I won’t be as long as I’m stuck here.”

“And that’s all my fault.”

“Look at me, Esme… Don’t you dare blame yourself.”

I don’t know what the hell is going on between them, but I know what it sounds like. I may not think Edward has any scruples, but Esme would never go there with her future brother-in-law. At least, I like to think she wouldn’t. Even if she has seemed like a stranger to me lately, she’s never given me reason to question her devotion to Carlisle.

There’s one thing I do know—if she sees me, she’ll be furious I listened to even a moment of her conversation with Edward. As quietly as I can manage, I tiptoe out of the apartment.

I’ll worry about getting my phone back later.





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