Chapter Eight
At breakfast three days after the artist scholarship event, I nearly choked on a bite of egg when Niamh said to me, “I need to talk to my dad first.”
We’d discovered through our own contacts that Connor Gallagher was, in fact, sniffing around the press. He’d hinted that he possessed information worth its weight in gold and that he was willing to sell that information for a tidy sum.
I hadn’t been surprised that Niamh’s father continued to be a conniving bastard. He wasn’t about to keep the secret that I was a bastard to himself, not when he could profit off of it.
I’d informed Laurent and the palace press office immediately that Connor Gallagher claimed to have information that could damage the royal family. I’d been tempted to disclose what that information was, but I’d
