The Last in Line (The Royal Inheritance Series Book 1) (25 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

RENEE PACED BRITCHFORD’S cramped chamber in Parliament and bit her nails.

“So this is it. After all this, we’re packing our bags and going home tomorrow.”

“That’s a little fatalistic, Ma’am. This isn’t over yet,” said Roberts and turned back to the monitor.

Britchford was not there. He was in the House of Commons with a mobile phone plastered to each ear, trying to get influential people to call their Labour representative to vote for Renee, while Rufus stumped among the benches exhorting members of his party to vote his way. The second attempt to bring a vote had been aborted just like the first. A few votes had turned in Renee’s favor after the first attempt, but the same number had turned against her.

Renee didn’t think she could take it any more. She had watched the process from a monitor in the chamber and paced the room until she was sure she would owe Britchford the cost of a new rug. Outside of Parliament traffic was at a standstill for all the roads approaching the government buildings were packed shoulder to shoulder with people awaiting the outcome. It was a crystal clear and cold night. A million puffs of breath rose into the air like smoke, just the reminder that Renee didn’t need. Renee tapped a cigarette against a table, but didn’t smoke it for Cassandra’s sake. She had been tapping it against the table all evening. In the corner, Audrey was issuing instructions over the phone: “Of course she’ll win! But if she doesn’t, reserve slots on all the major morning shows. The theme will be ‘the triumph of style over substance.’”

The last vote had happened an hour ago. Another one was scheduled in ten minutes. Britchford’s office was hot and full of tension. Cassandra’s face was pressed to the glass watching the people outside while Leanne plucked nervously at her faux rabbit fur scarf. “If you don’t win are they still going to give you an allowance for second place or something?”

The tension was too much; no one would notice if Renee ducked out for a minute to smoke her cigarette. She held it up for Harry to see and they slipped out the door together and were almost run over by staff assistants and Parliamentarians running here and there. Everyone was shouting into mobile phones and at each other. At the other end of the hall she saw Bretton conferring with one of Rufus’s aides. He must have felt her eyes on him because he looked up and smirked. His pale eyes unsettled her even from the great distance he stood from her. She turned and walked in the other direction. Harry followed. No one paid them any attention. She walked swiftly and found herself in a crowded, ornate hall. At any other time she would have been stunned by the beautiful windows, the soaring ceilings and the intricately carved walls. Even the floors were magnificent. But right now she simply needed a quiet spot to gather her thoughts because this was it. She was certain that it would be finished with the next vote. She found herself pushed ahead and jostled as people raced past her. She felt Harry’s light touch on her elbow as he endeavored to guard her in the crush. A bell sounded. “Vote in five minutes. Everyone in the Chamber, vote in five minutes!” Renee tried to break free of the crowd, but couldn’t fight the flow of traffic and before she knew it, she and Harry were in the House of Commons.

“Trying to manipulate the vote, are you?” said a gruff voice. Rufus glowered down at her from an upper bench. “Doesn’t matter. The votes are locked up.” He turned and shouted at the members of his party as they filled the benches. “Anyone who votes ‘Aye’ will be cut off from reelection funding. Do you hear me? CUT OFF!”

“Oh, my dear, so good of you to come for this historic vote,” said Britchford, bustling forward. He looked anxious but determined. “We have a couple of waverers, but your presence will remind them of what’s at stake.”

Renee didn’t really want to be there—she felt sick to her stomach—but Britchford was already leading her to a place to sit, while Harry remained by the door. A bell rang. “This is it,” said Britchford, “The vote is about to begin.”

Members still had phones clamped to their ears and they looked about anxiously, as if trying to divine how the others were going to vote. A vote of “aye” meant that the bill would pass with Renee’s name on it. If it didn’t pass, then they would have to have another round of voting with Bretton’s name on it. If that also failed then they would continue to vote until one of them passed. If a bill didn’t pass by midnight then the monarchy would disappear from Great Britain forever. There were a lot more Labour members than Tory ones. Renee checked her watch. It was 11pm.

“Time to vote, close the doors!” someone shouted.

A dark figure slipped in. Bretton. He glanced at her and went to sit beside Prime Minister Rufus. He looked thoroughly at ease.

Nearly everyone was seated.

Rufus approached Britchford. “Well, what say you? Are you ready to back full monetary union with Europe in exchange for her?” He jerked his head in Renee’s direction.

Britchford threw back his shoulders and lifted his chin. “We will prevail tonight without caving in to blackmail. The loss of the monarchy will be on your shoulders.”

“Loss? Who said anything about loss? We have option number two sitting right behind me.”

Britchford looked over Rufus’s shoulder at Bretton. “It will be a great loss for the monarchy, indeed.”

“No deal, then?”

Britchford shook his head. “No deal.”

Rufus returned to his side in a huff.

“DOORS ARE CLOSING!”

Renee gripped the edge of seat. Britchford patted her hand and then turned around to stare at his people. His instructions were clear.

The Speaker, dressed in a black robe and white wig, stood to address the House. “The question is whether to pass this Bill of Succession instating Georgina Renee Montshire Krebs as the Queen of the United Kingdom and Ireland, and head of the Church of England, to form a new dynasty and serve as sovereign.” Renee held her breath. “All in favor, say Aye.”

The thunder of Ayes shook her to the bone.

“All opposed, say No.”

The boom of Noes was equally loud.

She couldn’t tell which side carried the question. It was too close to call. Her heart pounded.

Britchford jumped to his feet. “I motion for a division of the assembly!”

A cascade of boos from Rufus’s side rained upon him.

The Speaker yelled, “Motion granted. Clear the Lobby!” and there was a loud noise of everyone getting to their feet at once.

Renee turned to Britchford. “What happens now?”

“The ‘ayes’ will go in that direction to be counted,” he waved his hand to one end of the room, “and the ‘noes’ will go in that direction—Abernathy, I see what you’re up to, now get back here!” Britchford grabbed the arm of a man who had been going in the direction of the noes and pushed him towards the ayes, where most of Britchford’s party congregated. Renee was heartened to see that several Labour MP’s were heading in that direction also. Britchford excused himself to chase down another straying Tory.

Rufus, meanwhile, was red in the face from yelling at the renegade members of his party—“Your political careers are finished!” They remained silent and stood stiffly among the contingent of Tories. Even with these defections, Renee still couldn’t tell at a glance which side would carry the day.

As the House separated into the two camps, Renee and Bretton were the only ones left sitting. His face was like a cold mask and when his eyes met hers, she felt a terrible fury bubble up inside her.

A bell rang.

“Lock the doors,” shouted the Speaker.

This was it. Renee pushed back the wave of fear that threatened to overwhelm her. She looked at Bretton and felt a steely calm. She was ready.

The Speaker cleared his throat and spoke. “On the question of whether Georgina Renee Montshire Krebs will be instated as the next monarch, Tellers, give me your votes.”

The two vote counters who had stood at either end of the hall to record the votes, stepped forward.

Renee held her breath.

The first Teller opened her mouth to speak, but before she could say anything there was a frantic banging at the locked Lobby door. Renee could hear a muffled voice shouting. A House official cracked open the door. “We’re conducting a vote in here!”

“You have to stop the vote! I have information that is pertinent to the decision. Get the Prime Minister.”

Renee’s heart leapt. It was Chase!

“Close the doors,” directed the Speaker in exasperation.

The official tried to shut the door, but Chase threw his shoulder into it and knocked the official a step backwards.

The official recovered quickly and he and another Member of Parliament moved to forcibly close the doors, but Harry, who had been standing by the doors, grabbed them by the shoulders and pulled them back, allowing Chase to run in.

“Prime Minister, stop the vote!”

Prime Minister Rufus stepped forward. “Mr. Chase, we are in the middle of the most important vote in decades!”

“Yes, Sir, I’m aware, but you must see this!” Chase held up a file folder.

“I believe you were relieved from duty, were you not?” said Rufus. His bushy brows couldn’t hide the anger that glinted in his eyes.

“That’s right—”

“And yet you have continued to involve yourself in these matters.”

“Yes—”

Rufus motioned with his hand. “Bailiff, remove this man so we can proceed with our vote!”

Renee jumped to her feet. She wasn’t going to let Rufus remove Chase from her life again. She stood in front of Chase and blocked the bailiff, who halted, confused, unsure of what to do next. Dare he put his hands on the potential future queen in order to do as the Prime Minister said? Harry joined her, though Renee wasn’t sure if he was guarding her or Chase at this point.

Rufus looked furious.

Even Britchford looked agitated. “Chase, this is hardly the time—”

Renee glanced over her shoulder, but Chase wasn’t looking at her. He was staring hard at Bretton. “Prime Minister, I have evidence that Bretton murdered three women in the United States and his trial was only dismissed because he murdered the witness as well!”

There was dead silence and then the room exploded in shock.

The Speaker shouted “Order, Order!” to no avail.

In the turmoil, Renee looked from Britchford to Rufus to Bretton. Britchford looked stunned, Rufus looked ready to combust, and Bretton…Bretton got slowly to his feet. He approached Chase, noticed the camera that was televising to a live audience, and stopped. He spoke louder than was necessary to make sure the microphones picked him up. “This is nothing less than character assassination. The country will not stand for it.”

Chase didn’t take his eyes off of Bretton or blink. “I’m happy to let the country decide that. Shall I begin reading?”

Bretton froze.

Britchford leaned in. “Chase, are you certain?”

“I’ve never been more certain of anything.”

Britchford looked up. “I motion for an adjournment while we discuss this new element.”

The Speaker, stunned by the unexpected course of events, nodded and then remembering his role, said, “Motion granted. The time is now 11:15 pm. We shall reconvene for a vote in thirty minutes.”

Prime Minister Rufus, Britchford, Renee, and Harry formed a small knot that led the way out of the pandemonium of the House of Commons. Chase trailed behind, elbow to elbow with Bretton as if to ensure he wouldn’t flee. A man and a woman, both in suits but clearly members of law enforcement, peeled off from where they had stood just outside the Lobby doors and followed them.

“Who are they?” asked Rufus.

“Metropolitan Police. They’re here to serve an arrest warrant for Ammon Bretton,” said Chase. 

Rufus frowned.

They entered an ornate library. “Everybody out!” barked Rufus. “No journalists!” Once everyone had been chased out, Rufus whirled around. “This had better be good.”

Britchford held up his hands. “Before we start, I just want to be sure that you’re aware of the libel laws that you may run afoul of if you’re wrong.”

Chase nodded. “I’m aware.” He took a deep breath and began. “First of all, the three murders in question were all in the Massachusetts and Connecticut areas, where Bretton has spent his life.”

“Millions of people live in those states,” said Bretton.

Chase continued. “All three of the women were strangled by hand, rather than by a rope or some other instrument. Several criminal psychologists have agreed that this means the murderer
enjoyed
the act of killing, that he wanted to feel the women die.”

“This is very macabre,” said Britchford.

“Indeed,” said Chase. “It becomes even more so when we learn that the victims were…for lack of a better word…
violated
as they were being choked to death.”

“So far, I hear nothing linking Ammon to any of this,” said Rufus.

“Not yet,” said Chase. “But were you aware that Bretton was confined to a psychiatric institution when he was sixteen?”

“Ammon, is this true?” asked Rufus.

Bretton stole a glance at the two agents standing by the door. “Yes, it’s true. But back then they used institutionalization rather than medication. My mother was a delicate sort who didn’t know how to handle an active teenage boy. Today they would prescribe Ritalin or Prozac, but back then imprisonment was the only option.”