Originally part of the previous chapter. Quite possible you missed that one, since I at first uploaded them as one. Thank you for bearing with me, and thank you for reviewing. Be warned, madness up ahead :)

ACT I

Ahasuerus

Part V.

Benjaminites

They arrived at the Ascot a little after noon and it was packed, as expected. The third day of the Royal Ascot normally attracted the biggest crowd, but with the happenings on Wednesday and the King's absence on the third day, the crowd had now flocked to the Ascot on Friday. The people were hopeful to catch a glimpse of the King and his entourage and the course was livelier and more vibrant than ever before. The masses coloured the track very nearly black. Designer dresses and millinery paragons made up the scenery. It was a day to see and be seen, which was exactly what Robert had anticipated. Folk were staring the moment the Royal family exited their Rovers.

'I hate you,' Eleanor hissed in his ear. He had shared a Rover with her, a miscalculation on his part. Jasper was officially on duty today and Eleanor's mood was fouler than ever. James Hill suspected the horde might try to approach the King to hear what truly happened from the source and even if that wasn't the case, he wanted to keep all and any reporters far away from the King. Today was meant to be a private event; the King and his guests in the Royal Box, nothing more, nothing less. Of course Robert was planning to stand against the parapet the entire day so all his subjects could catch a glimpse of his greatness.

And my amazing jawline.

They'd had two days of bloody anarchy. it was about time they showed the Kingdom exactly why they were Royal.

Robert smoothed his hair in the rear-view mirror and held out his hand for his sister to take. She drove her nails into his palm - surely with evil intentions - and he narrowly avoided the sharp heel of her stiletto.

'I love you too, Len. Thank you.'

He took a hold of her elbow firmly and together they strode towards the Grandstand, Jasper one length behind and Eleanor still grumbling. They looked like a perfect, little family. Robert tuned his sister out. He wondered how much he would have to pay Jasper to take his sister overseas, never to return again.

Build a hut near the sea and put a baby in her belly. Keep her occupied so she'll stop bothering me.

But the slight worry he felt at the thought losing his best – and worst – bodyguard was bigger than the torment Eleanor on a daily base put him through, so perhaps he'd keep them both around for a little while longer. At least until the coward popped the damn question. After that he could just disinherit Eleanor without a second thought. She'd be Jasper's problem then.

Guy Henderson, the Ascot's Chief Executive, awaited them at the box. The man had too much nose and not enough chin. Robert knew his type. Men who knew exactly which bumhole to scratch and who to suck up to. Henderson held a bottle of complimentary champagne in his hand and Eleanor, disentangling herself form her brother with a huff, took it from him and walked past without a word or glance.

My sister, the ill-bred mule.

'Forgive her, she didn't sleep well.' Henderson smiled at Robert's explanation. 'No offence taken, Your Majesty. It's always a pleasure to accommodate you and your family.'

Henderson spread his arms, welcoming the rest of the entourage.

'However, on behalf of the Ascot I must apologize, Your Majesty.' His face had taken on a pained expression and Robert applauded his control of his facial muscles. 'The reporters should not have been able to enter the Furlong Club on Wednesday. Be ensured that we are doing everything that is in our power to keep them at bay this afternoon. If there is anything, anything, you desire, just let me know.'

Robert grinned, pleasantly surprised. 'There is no need for apologies. And I assure, my Head of Security has everything under control. Thank you for the kind offer, but for now we are satisfactorily suppl–'

Someone stamped on his foot, hard.

'Keep walking, Robert,' the Queen Mother said sharply. She turned to Henderson. 'And you. The King meant to say he wanted a couple more bottles of that champagne. Off you go.'

Go for Gin. You named your horse well, mother.

He smirked as he left her at the doors and entered the Royal Box. His box.

One of the first things Robert had done upon becoming King, was ordering the glass panels shielding the Royal Box removed. He claimed they took away from the action, the experience, and though his mother had been horrified - 'I can smell the horses, Robert' -, Liam, Eleanor and even Cyrus had agreed wholeheartedly. Watching the races behind glass was, to them, unheard of. Robert took his familiar spot against the parapet, looking out over the track. The views were amazing. Beneath him the Queen Anne enclosure was already packed to the brim, as was the Village. The first race was more than an hour away and he could see people simply enjoying the weather and each other's company. Some girls down in Queen Anne's enclosure were trying to get his attention. He waved at them, nodded in their general direction.

Kent joined him at the parapet and handed him a glass of champagne. She was one of the few counties left. When he thanked her, she blushed prettily and he took a moment to just take in her features. She was a beautiful woman. Reddish hair and light freckles, with dimples when she smiled. He had no horses racing today and therefore no excuse to kiss anyone, but if he had, she surely was on top of his list.

Don't you dare, you philandering gigolo.

And when had he started hearing her voice in his head?

You still need to apologize to Surrey. No kissing girls today.

He cursed and Kent backed away, before he could convince her otherwise.

'I get it,' she smiled. 'You need a moment alone. Understandably.'

She laid her hand on his arm and he almost -almost - flinched. 'I'll be at the bar when you need me.'

And it became painfully clear in that moment, her eyes darting from him to the three girls beneath who were still looking, that traditional courtship was not reserved for him. Perhaps that was his curse. Set aside the fact he was posolutely not looking for a wife – no matter what they had the people believe -, the chance of him marrying for love was literally slim to none.

I kiss a bloody girl and they're planning our engagement.

I wave at some girls and they think I need a moment.

This entire country was bonkers.

Any sort of romantic engagement was out of the question, neither private nor public. Nothing was ever private. Not in his life. He couldn't hide away the woman he was dating in his bedroom. He had tried that with Kathryn and had failed miserably. Truly, with her he hadn't wanted to go public, was satisfied just hanging out with her and keeping their relationship hidden. But by the time he'd been ready to reveal her to the people, he'd already lost her.

To my brother, no less. The spare.

But, he realised. He wanted it. Someday. The clichéd wooing. Dating and stolen kisses in Hyde Park. Dancing far past midnight and drinking too much. Trips to the country and walking the Cornwall cliffs. He would have none of that. It simply wasn't possible. The nation would go mental. A date, to them, would mean possible engagement, marriage and children. There was nothing in between. And so they would vet her, like some piece of meat, and whichever unlucky girl he would end up with, she would never be good enough to the public.

Certainly not after this Surrey-thing.

They'd expect his date to follow proper Royal etiquette - and his cousin's wife, Catherine Elizabeth Middleton had set that bar ridiculously high - and if by some mercy of the Gods the people decided she was prim and proper enough, they'd move on to scrutinizing her posture. With his luck with girls he'd probably end up with one sitting the wrong way - and again he blamed Kate, because serious, the Duchess Slant?

Bloody hell.

He only just realised.

He'd have to settle.

Yuck.

'What are you thinking about? Grabbing one of your fangirls and carrying her off to be your wife?' He rolled his eyes when Poppy came to stand next to him and followed his gaze. Stuck out her tongue at the three girls looking up at the Royal Box.

Robert snorted. 'That's from Benjaminites, right?'

Poppy nodded and he suddenly felt uncomfortable. The scene reminded him too much of just two days before, at the very same spot. He thought of her hand, how it had been much warmer than Surrey's.

He wondered if Poppy could execute the Duchess Slant convincingly.

He acted on instinct, capturing her hand in both of his. His right hand rested on the back of her hand, while he laced the fingers of his left through hers. Her hand was just as warm as in his memory. Funny how they fit.

'What are you doing?' She cocked her head at him, searching his face.

He cringed. 'Just checking. They say a sixth finger is a sign of evil. Handiwork of the devil.'

She gently disentangled her hand from his. 'Disappointed I only have five on each hand?'

You have no idea.

'On your right hand, yes, but what about your left?'

Cheeky Robbie. Well played.

He hadn't expected her to hold up her hand for him and he hesitated. His eyebrow rose of its own accord, clearly as appalled at her audacity as he was. She wiggled her fingers in front of his face and tapped her index finger against his nose.

'One,' she said.

He froze. Intrigued.

She did the same with her middle finger.

'Two.'

Her ring finger.

'Three.'

He didn't realise he was holding his breath, his lips slightly parted. Something had shifted, a change in the air. He felt it coil in his stomach. Or maybe it was just her.

The hellion and her presence.

Her eyes were bright.

Huge.

Looking only at him.

Beautiful.

She brushed her thumb delicately over his bottom lip and her tongue flicked out to wet her own.

Goddamnit.

'Five.' The word was nothing more but a whisper, but he felt it like a tremor through his entire body.

She got me bloody well undone.

She looked up at him, innocently, and she was incomprehensible, indecipherable and for some reason he thought ungraspable. He tore his gaze away from her, chuckled tensely.

'You forgot four.'

And if his voice was hoarse, he chose to ignore it. He flicked her against the forehead, inconspicuously stepping away from her as he did so. He had to create some distance between them. Needed to.

Demon, he reminded himself. Siren casting a spell on me.

'Now be a good liaison.' He had to force the words out. 'And get your King a drink.'

Her eyes widened, fractionally, her mouth frozen in a silent o. Then she smiled, a cheerless imitation of her usual ones. 'Sure. Scotch?'

She turned on her heels and he couldn't stop his eyes from following her. Lingering on the swagger of her hips, before he even realized what he was looking at. Jasper was watching him and their gazes crossed. The glint in his bodyguard's eyes was supremely perceptive.

Should've banished them when I had the chance. Her and that thug Jasper.

His fingers curled around the parapet tightly. Clenched hard enough for his knuckles to turn white. He rested his head briefly on his forearms and slowly exhaled.

Bloody GCHQ liaison.

More trouble than she was worth.