Wear it like a crown

Untitled Part 1

This early in the morning, Clarence House was disconcertingly quiet.

Harry was used to the hustle and bustle of his mother's Royal Household, had grown up expecting conversations in the corridors, people greeting him as he walked by, the murmur of voices drifting out of Nick Grimshaw's meeting room whenever Nick fed calculated bites of information to select journalists. Right now, even servants were few and far between. Daylight was only just beginning to creep up over London, and when Harry had parked his car a few minutes ago, night shadows had still been wrapped around the trees of Green Park.

In the eerie absence of other human beings, the Horse Corridor was creepier than usual, which Harry considered a feat. Heavy, red drapes mourned the passage of time, horse statues tracked his every step from porcelain eyes, and the oil paintings on the wall loomed like relics from another century. They were, in a way. Since the death of Harry's grandfather, Anne had been talking about a thorough renovation. As it wasn't a priority concern, it had yet to move beyond the planning stage when there were always so many other issues clamouring for attention. Ruling a country was no part-time job.

Harry caught snatches of a conversation from the sitting room and stood quietly for a moment, straining his ears so as to gain an idea of why he'd been roused at an ungodly hour to put in an appearance. Nothing translated through the thick wood of the door.

Harry knocked and entered without waiting for a response.

He halted his steps. Nick was here. That was not a good sign. It was never a good sign if the Head of Royal Communications was present outside of normal office hours.

"Good morning." Clearing his throat, Harry glanced from his mother to Nick, to the full English breakfast laid out on the table, and then over at a man he'd never seen before—slightly stocky, with a pleasant smile and intelligent eyes. He struck Harry as someone who was easily underestimated. "Where's the fire?"

Anne set her cup down with a dainty clink of porcelain and gave him a kind look. Her voice was even. "Darling. Do sit down, please. This is James Corden. He’ll be joining us for breakfast."

Okay. This was definitely not good.

Seeing as Harry had returned from two weeks in Spain just last night, there was absolutely nothing reassuring about being called in for an early breakfast with a man whose name was practically an institution: James Corden, professional fixer. He worked in the background, word-of-mouth the only promotion he needed now that he’d managed to establish himself as the person you called on the eve of a serious crisis. He and his team had handled the fallout when the Duke of Kent’s pregnant mistress had gone to the press, they’d been involved in negotiations with a kidnapper threatening to harm the only child of the Leader of the Opposition, and when Niall had fallen for a Victoria’s Secret model, the Marquess of Waterford had called them in so they would spin the public narrative about his son in a way that would protect the reputation of the old Irish family.

“Pleasure to meet you,” Harry lied, shaking the man’s hand and taking note of a strong, confident grasp. He greeted Nick with a clap on the shoulder and his mother with a kiss on the cheek, then sank into the fourth chair and smoothed his expression into one of pleasant expectation.

Shit. He was in serious trouble. What had he done?

Nothing came to mind. Female underwear models and their curves held little appeal for him, and it wasn’t as though he was likely to father a child, illicit or not, that could then be kidnapped.

Glancing around the table, he took in Corden’s easy smile and the perpetual glint of amusement in Nick’s eyes. Anne looked regal even in her simple dress, her hair tied back and her expression grave. It wasn’t often that Harry found his mother intimidating, but right now was one of those moments. To cover up his nerves, he helped himself to a bread roll and reached for the butter. “Thank you for the invitation to breakfast,” he said out loud. “It’s bound to be a lovely day, so I guess it’s good I was prompted to rise early. Gives me a chance to make the most of it.”