Even though I've repeatedly told myself not to trust a word Marcus says, his text message keeps nagging at me.
The abandoned prince of the Harington family.
What the hell was he getting at?
'Is it possible there's another child in the Harington family?'
The thought chilled me to the bone. I recalled the voice I'd heard outside the bathroom before. If there really was another child, one who looked exactly like Henry…
Then Marcus' words would make sense.
But seriously, how?
When I carried the coffee to the study, the temperature was a precise 65 degrees. As I rolled the cart to the study door, I lightly tapped on it.
A calm, commanding voice came from inside, "Come in."
I pushed the door open.
The crisp aroma of cedarwood hit me, refreshing my senses.
Unlike the bold, citrusy frag
