Drake finally managed to hunt down a waiter with a tray loaded with champagne glasses, rather than just empty ones, and took two for good measure.
As soon as he turned back around to look for familiar faces, he ran straight into Lord Neville. He mentally congratulated himself for grabbing that extra glass.
“Lord Neville,” he said curtly, with a stiff jerk of his head that barely qualified as a bow.
“Walker. Of course you’d be here, sulking while you mooch off the Prince’s generosity,” he sneered.
Drake felt his face grow hot. “Ah yes, as opposed to you, Lord Neville, who would never dream of showing up here just to suck up to more important people and bore women to death.”
Lord Neville looked as if he’d been slapped for a split second, then turned his expression into an arrogant smirk.
“I don’t know, commoner, I think the likes of your sister would have been more than happy to be – how did you put it? – ‘bored to death’ by someone so high above her station. We all know she was nothing but a little crown chaser.”
“Shut up,” Drake replied quietly, refusing to give in to his goading.
“You know, I experienced some déjà-vu, seeing you talk to that girl from New York earlier. You do have a soft spot for crown chasers, don’t you? And so, it would seem, does our Prince.”
Drake followed Neville’s gaze towards the dance floor, where Riley and Liam were deep in conversation.
Drake opted for a nonchalant shrug, “What Liam does is up to him.”
“Oh of course it is, of course it is,” Lord Neville’s smile widened. “Except I’ve heard that there’s a bidding war among the tabloids for certain, ah, scandalous pictures of Prince Liam’s birthday party. They probably feature that New York girl prominently, from what I gather. If those go public, well, I’m sure you realize that it would cease to be Liam’s business?”
Drake was reeling. Was this true? It definitely was; he’d learned long ago not to be surprised by the nobles’ devious ways. But who? Despite all his talk of not trusting anyone, he had to believe he could still trust some people. He found it hard to imagine either Tariq or Maxwell doing something like this. They didn’t have it in them, did they?
He had to get to the bottom of this. He was so concentrated on his next move that he completely forgot to be nasty to Neville, giving him only a distracted, “Excuse me,” before moving him aside, abandoning his two champagne glasses, and striding to the white and gold double doors that led to the grand foyer.
Bastien was standing beside the open doors, surveying the ballroom with alert eyes.
“Bastien, I need to talk to you.”
“Not now, Drake.”
“You know I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important. Just get someone to cover you for 5 minutes.”
Bastien looked intently at him, then nodded briskly and used his earpiece to get one of his people to take his place.
“Make it quick,” he said, already walking out the doors. Drake hurried behind him. Bastien didn’t stop until they were well outside the palace and in the entrance courtyard, away from prying eyes and ears.
“What’s going on?”
Drake related what he’d heard from Neville, “So have you heard anything about it?”
“No, this is the first I’m hearing,” replied Bastien with a grave face.
“Well, we need to find whoever is behind it. Now.”
“That’s not a priority,” Bastien countered calmly.
“Wh-what? But Liam! He can’t afford a scandal so soon after Leo abdicating, much less during the social season, why are you–”
“Drake, stop. We will find the culprit, certainly. I am merely suggesting that a better course of action at the moment might be to find the pictures before they are published. Whoever is behind this is probably a member of the court, so they won’t be going anywhere.”
Drake had been pacing rapidly while Bastien explained his reasoning. He slowed down to a stop and ran his fingers through his hair, “Right, yeah, no, we should do that first. I just hope you’re right about the son of a bitch not leaving.”
“Well, one can never be sure, of course, but it seems highly unlikely.”
“True. Okay, so we do this your way, but keep me in the loop, yeah? I’ll try to find out what I can.”
“Fine… And Drake?” Bastien waited until Drake, who had started retreating back to the palace, turned to look at him, “Do it subtly, for God’s sake.”
Drake rolled his eyes with a smile and kept walking.
Upon reentering the grand ballroom, Drake resolved he deserved to have a little fun. With that in mind he flagged down the nearest waiter and got another glass of champagne. He looked around for anyone friendly; his eyes fell on Maxwell, sitting alone at a table. Better than nothing. He walked towards him.
“Hey, Maxwell. Why are you just sitting here? Thought you’d be tearing up the dance floor right about now.” He sat down next to him.
“Nah, man, it’s too formal today. There’s only so many times I can waltz.”
“Huh… well, whaddya know? I never thought I’d see it,” Drake rested his arm on Maxwell’s shoulder. “The great Maxwell, all danced out.”
“What! No, that’s not true! It’s not the same thing!” Drake had never seen Maxwell so agitated. “I’ll go dance right now, I’ll show you!” He got up and started moving purposefully – and a little aggressively – to the dance floor. Drake followed him and caught him by the collar.
“Whoa, there, buddy, I was just kidding. You look like you might hurt someone.”
He coaxed Maxwell, who was breathing hard, back to his chair and followed suit.
“Say I’m the Dance Master.”
“Hard pass.”
“Say it. SAY IT now or I will dance on this table, so help me God.”
When Drake stayed quiet for a few more seconds, Maxwell moved to get up from his chair.
“FINE, you’re the Dance Master, okay? Just stop that! Sit down.”
“Hah! I knew you’d cave,” Maxwell grinned triumphantly while doing the arm wave.
Drake tried to keep a straight face and took a sip of his champagne, but ended up snorting into it. Maxwell snickered at Drake’s champagne-splashed face, and they both fell into fits of laughter.
Just then, Lady Kiara approached them. Their laughs gradually subsided.
“Well, don’t you look amused, tous les deux?”
She looked very pretty with a fitted black dress and her dark hair loose, falling down her back.
Drake bowed his head and said, “Hello, Lady Kiara. Please, sit down.”
“Bon soir, Drake,” she smiled back at him, flicking her hair and taking the chair next to his.
“Are you, uh, enjoying the ball?”
“Oh, of course! Though maybe not as much as you two,” she replied, playfully touching his arm.
Drake cleared his throat unnecessarily.
Maxwell jumped to his rescue, “Are you looking forward to the social season?”
“Hmph, well, I was, until this little nobody from New York arrived. The Prince has barely looked at me all night.”
Right, she’s here for Liam.
“Well, looks like there might be an opening just now,” Drake pointed out, nodding towards Liam, who had just finished dancing with Hana.
“Mais oui! You’re right, I must go there now! I’ll be seeing you, Drake.”
She got up and went directly towards Liam.
“What was that?!” Maxwell exclaimed as soon as she was out of earshot.
“What was what?”
“She was clearly flirting with you and you blew her off! I thought you said you liked her?”
“Okay, first of all, I never said I liked her, I just think she’s attractive. Second, she was only flirting with me because Liam was busy.”
“So?”
“What do you mean, ‘so’?”
“She likes you anyway, man! Nothing wrong with a harmless fling!”
“I don’t see you having any harmless flings,” deflected Drake.
Maxwell looked thoughtful for a moment, “Touché. Still, that was some grade-A self-sabotage, you know that, right?”
“Yeah, yeah. I’m gonna call it a night,” said Drake, standing up.
“Okay,” said Maxwell, deflated, “but Drake, don’t sell yourself short. Not everyone’sfavorite flavor is chocolate. Do a lot of people like chocolate? Sure. Does chocolate have many amazing qualities that make it an optimal choice? Yes. But vanilla’s great too, you know? Different, yet just as good.”
“Right.”
“… Liam’s chocolate–”
“Yeah, no, I got that.”
“–you’re vanilla–”
“Yes, I know.”
“So what I’m trying to say–”
“Maxwell!” he put a hand on his shoulder. “I get it. Thanks.”
“Oh. Okay, good. Well, see ya.”
“G’night, Maxwell.”