Chapter 3

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***

It was a strange start to the day for one hit man.

Richie was lounging in bed and couldn't figure out what was wrong. He shifted his gaze to the gold tower clock. The amazing thing was that the time was already twenty-eight and no one had woken him up. Usually he was awakened earlier, but today there was no valet, as was customary.

Richard thought something bad had happened, so he jumped out of bed.

He rushed to the door and ran out into the corridor in his pyjamas. Looking around, the boy found no one, which was surprising.

The boy walked down the corridor towards the dining room and only there he found the activity of the servants.

A young slender brunette in a maid's uniform was setting the table. She immediately spotted the young gentleman and nodded politely to him.

- Good morning, Mr Ritchie," she said in a singsong voice.

- Good morning," the boy looked around the dining room in bewilderment. - Where is everyone? Where's John? It's nearly eight in the morning and he hasn't woken me up.

- Mr Ritchie, it's Sunday," the maid replied politely. - It's John's day off.

Richie was embarrassed. He was completely lost in time, both literally and figuratively. He had been so busy immersing himself in his new life that he had forgotten to keep track of the days of the week. Indeed, a man cannot work without a day off. John is not a slave, but a labourer. I'm surprised he only gets one day off a week.

- What am I supposed to do? - muttered the boy.

The maid took the question personally and answered hastily:

- Sir, I think you should wash up, change into different clothes and rest.

- Erm... I'm sorry, miss, I forgot your name.

- Lucy, sir.

- Yes, Lucy. I apologise. Can you tell me what I used to do on Sundays? I don't suppose I have any classes today, do I?

- Quite right, young master," Lucy replied. - As far as I know, you used to visit your friend after breakfast on Sundays.

Since the trainee had no recollection of any friends, he thought of nothing better to ask:

- Which one?

- Sir, I can't say for sure, you may have other friends, but you used to be friends with Miss Harriet Tomlison. Lovely girl.

- Ah, Harriet! - said Richie, as if he remembered who he was talking about. - Thank you, Lucy. Is her father, Mr Tomlinson, still doing the same thing?

The maid thought for a moment, then replied:

- When I was last in Chester, Mr Tomlison's curtain factory was still in place.

Richie almost hummed aloud.

"Curtains? Are you serious!!! - thought the boy. - The son of a billionaire duke is friends with the daughter of a small factory worker who makes curtains? I'm sure that business is destined to stay afloat for a short time."

He remembered well from history that in the past, which now seemed to him to be the not-too-distant future, due to the global development of trade relations and means of communication, in particular due to the global spread of the Internet and inexpensive computer technology, it had become unprofitable to produce many goods in countries with expensive labour. Most of all kinds of production was moved to China and other Asian countries. If we take the same curtains as an example, it became much cheaper to bring them from China than to produce them in Europe. This has caused many small European manufacturing business owners to go bankrupt.

- Thank you, Lucy.

Ritchie hurried back to his room. He washed his face, brushed his teeth, changed into his usual light blue jeans and black t-shirt, then went downstairs for breakfast. He was just in time for the fully set table where Gerald was sitting.

- Good morning, father," the boy bowed his head slightly as he stood beside the table.

- Richie, good morning," Gerald replied.

- 'Dad, do you have some free time? I would like to discuss with you the financial condition of the Grosvenors. I've been talking to my economics tutor about it, but I don't understand a lot of things because the professor doesn't know specifics about our finances.

- Well, we'll discuss it after breakfast. Ritchie, why are you dressed like that?

- Dad, it's Sunday. I thought since it's a free day... I'm usually out with my girlfriend.

Ritchie wasn't really going to see his girlfriend. What would he talk to a girl his own age about? Talk about dolls?! He just wore the most comfortable clothes he could because he was tired of wearing suits.

- No girlfriends! - The Duke sealed it in a stern tone. - Have you forgotten again that we have to attend the annual royal fundraiser tonight?

- I'm sorry, Father, I forgot. Is the reception coming up soon?

- No, we need to be there by four o'clock this afternoon. Now, sit down to breakfast, we'll talk later.

Breakfast was passed in complete silence. Only the clinking of cutlery could be heard. Richie quickly removed everything from the plates and waited impatiently for Gerald to finish eating. And that moment came. The Duke put away the cutlery, carefully wiped his mouth with a napkin and looked at his son, then said:

- Richie, let's go into the drawing room.

Richard darted from the table and rushed into the living room. Gerald followed his son with a leisurely gait with a straight back.

Father and son were seated in the cosy fabric-upholstered armchairs by the fireplace, facing each other. Only a round mahogany coffee table separated them.

- So what did you want to find out, son? - Grosvenor Sr. asked.

- Dad, tell me about our business and inheritance. The tutor confused me. He said that many people inherit the Grosvenor fortune, including Grandpa Carl's siblings.

- Hmm..." the man said thoughtfully. - No. Just so you understand, my father, your grandfather, did the following. He set up several trust funds and divided the Grosvenor fortune in half. One half went into the Grosvenor Group, which went to the main heir, which was me. The rest of the fortune was divided into four parts, according to the number of the remaining children, your uncles and aunts. All the Grosvenors, from the first Duke of Westminster onwards, distributed their estates in a similar manner. No child, except the lousy sheep, was left out.

Ritchie wanted very badly to ask what a lousy sheep was and whether he would fall into that category, but he refrained from asking.

- I see," Richie said. - So you're going to do the same thing? Split the fortune in two. One half would go to the two sisters and the other half to me?

- You're thinking about inheritance too soon, Richie," said Gerald, grinning. - There's a mistake in your thinking-half of the fortune will go to your three sisters.

- I have three sisters?

The boy's eyes widened at this news. Not so long ago it was only two sisters.

- Yes," Gerald took a deep breath, as if before jumping into the water. - I was a bully when I was young. In my last year at a boarding school, I behaved badly, I dropped out of school. I'm a rich heir, a future duke! I'm a rich heir, a future duke! I don't care about the servants... As a result, I failed two exams.

The man closed his eyes and as if he was remembering the past. His lips and eyelids twitched. Looking at his son again, he continued:

- Dad got angry with me and sent me to a military school. There I was taught discipline. But I was still a rebel at heart. After the school I had a great time: alcohol, casinos, parties, free love. So, unplanned, from a political emigrant poetess from Russia with a beautiful name Natasha, Tamara was born. I could not marry Natasha. At that time, marriages to people outside one's own circle were strongly condemned. Nowadays, a nobleman can marry for love. And there's no guarantee that it will be accepted by everyone. After the scandal caused by my father, I recognised the bastard, gave my daughter my surname and content, brought her out into the world. Tamara Grosvenor is now forty years old. She is recognised as a Lady. Tamara became godmother five years ago to Prince William, the son of my friend Charlie and his lovely wife Diana.

At this point, the boy's eyes grew even larger from sheer amazement. He asked in a dazed tone:

- Daddy, by Charlie's friend do you mean Prince Charles!

- Exactly. He and I are almost the same age," a warm smile lit up the Duke's dry lips. - Oh, I remember how Charlie and I used to party... Then we both got a reprimand from our parents.

- Oh, wow! - was all Richie could manage to say.

- Ahem..." Gerald hid his embarrassment behind a fake cough. - Tamara went to Northumbria University to study criminology after leaving school. She had recently set up a charity and was now in Nepal - helping innocent children get out of prison.

Richie had absolutely no idea what was going on in Nepal or why innocent children were imprisoned there. He couldn't even imagine where it was located. But just in case, he decided not to show his ignorance.He was glad that he had been able to shed some light on the order of inheritance in the family. He wouldn't have to sponsor a crowd of relatives. Half of the Grosvenor fortune would go to Richie, which was a definite plus. The other question is, how far is too far? Father, though he doesn't look young, is in good health and vigour. He may live to be ninety or even a hundred years old. As an example, we can take Prince Charles - he has been the Queen's heir for many years, God bless her health. So what? All this time to depend on the favour of a parent? Live on funds, the flow of which Gerald can regulate in order to control his son? No, something must be done about it.

Richie had come to the realisation that he needed to earn his own capital. And he should start as early as possible, better to start now.

But that's just saying it's easy to make a fortune. Even if you know the future, you need to have start-up capital to invest in successful businesses. And where do you get the money? In this case, you just have to ask your dad. It's unlikely to be possible to do such a thing just like that. You have to make a good argument, and to do that, you need to study more with an economics tutor.

Richie had a purpose. Before, he was just getting into a new role, getting used to the idea that he was alive, that he lived in the past and became a child. Now he dreamed of independence, which only big money can give. And not just money, but personal funds. Not the family fortune in a trust fund held by his father and the trustees of the fund, but Richard Grosvenor's capital.

But that's the goal for the future, with the Queen of England's party coming up.

- Daddy, what are we going to do at the reception?

- The reception..." said Gerald. - The usual. I'll donate fifty thousand pounds to charity, maybe make a short speech, pose for the journalists' cameras. And you'll accompany me first, and then you can socialise with your peers.

- Will they be there?

Gerald thought for a moment.

- They should be," he said. - William will probably be there. Lord Finch-Fletchley, who is a member of my hunting club, has a son about your age. Yes, there'll be plenty of children, I'm sure. There'll be a table for them in a separate room, as usual.

- Dad, what can you tell me about the Grosvenor Group's finances?

- Later, Richie," said Gerald. - I'm glad you're interested in this subject, but you can't tell me in a couple of hours.

- How long would it take? - Richard continued.

Gerald thought, ran the back of his right palm on his chin, then turned his gaze to his son and said:

- Richie, we will do the following: when you pass the exams of the junior school programme, I will invite you to my firm to work as a courier. You'll work for a month with correspondence inside the office, you'll understand a little bit about the company. And if, son, you make it through the month, you'll be brought up to speed by competent experts. Do you agree?

- No problem," the boy nodded vigorously. - Mrs Stevenson said that if I study at the same pace, I will be able to pass the entire secondary school exams in just a couple of months. In just a couple of weeks I'll be able to pass my fifth grade exams.

- Unbelievable!

Duke was amazed. He certainly thought his son was a genius, but to be so....

- Richie, I'm proud of you! In the meantime, go get some rest. I'll send Lucy round in two hours to get you dressed.

- So soon? - Ritchie was surprised. - 'Dad, you said we didn't have to be here until four.

- Exactly! - agreed the Duke. - But we have to pack, dress up, and get there. And the Queen's residence at Windsor Castle is two hundred and ten miles by motorway - a four-hour drive.

Then Richard realised his mistake. He had recently learnt that he lived near Chester and that the Queen lived in the suburbs of London.

- Couldn't we, for example, fly in a helicopter? - he asked hopefully, not wanting to spend four hours in a car.

- No, Richie," Gerald grinned. - I'm afraid of heights and I can't stand helicopters, aeroplanes and other flying machines. So we'll go by car.

- Eh... - the boy sighed heavily. - If we had a gravcar now, we would have reached the place in an hour on the motorway....

The Duke grinned, smiled warmly at the child and said:

- Are you fond of science fiction, Richie? I used to love that kind of literature too. All right, run along. Get some rest and play. We're gonna have a busy day today.

How can you rest when you're meeting the Queen and high society for the first time? Naturally, Richie couldn't sit still. He was worried, thinking about how such an event would take place and how he could not screw up. In the end, several hours passed.

Then Lucy came in, chased Richie into the shower and helped him get into his tailcoat.

Richard prepared for a long and arduous car journey, but it was not as expected.There were four people in the Bentley: Richard and Gerald were in the back seat, separated by a wide armrest. In the front, the driver, a bodyguard, sat behind the wheel, and next to him a similarly unremarkable man in a plain suit, apparently also a security guard.

As soon as the luxury car was on the motorway, the child's body, exhausted by the experience, began to feel the effects. Richie's eyes began to droop. In a half-sleep, the boy discovered one truth:

"No matter how cool and grown up you are, if your body is a child's, you can't go against its wishes. But sleeping in the car is nothing. What's scary is that I'm about to go through another adolescence."

- Richie, wake up.

Richard woke up to someone shaking him by the shoulder. He opened his eyes and found his father.

- Richie, we're here. Come out," he said.

- What, already? - The boy was surprised. - Weren't we supposed to drive for four hours?

- You slept the whole way, son. We're here now.

The driver opened the door in front of the young gentleman. Richie left the car and found himself in a large car park. There were premium cars: Bentley, Rolls-Royce, Daimler, Jaguar and sedans from BMW and Mercedes.

Ahead, a majestic palace rose behind the crowns of neatly trimmed trees. Tall beige-coloured stone walls flowed into round and square towers.

A wide walkway led from the car park to the arched gates.

Once past the gate, Ritchie and his father found themselves inside the castle courtyard. A wide paved path ran along the rectangular perimeter along the walls of the buildings, and in the centre was a green lawn.

The palace was three stories high. In the centre stood a four-storey square tower. To the right in the corner were two five-storey round towers, which after a turn changed into three-storey buildings and then stepped into a two-storey building.

The windows of the ground floors were huge, elongated upwards and were rectangular in shape. The windows on the top floors were arched and even taller.

To the left was a huge circular building five storeys high. To approach it, one had to go round a marble fountain.

There were people in the courtyard of the castle. They were mostly adult men and women. The men were dressed in tails, and the Duke of Westminster stood out in his blue suit.

Richie would have preferred a suit to an uncomfortable tuxedo, but it was explained to him that the boy's current position did not allow for a "free" form of dress. When he became a duke, he would be able to wear a suit at an event where he was supposed to wear a tailsuit.

The girls were wearing evening gowns. From the variety of colours and designs of dresses and hats, as well as from the abundance of expensive jewellery on the ladies, rippled in the eyes.

Mostly people crowded around the two-storey half of the castle. People gradually went inside. It was difficult to get there quickly, because at the entrance there were footmen in red livery checking the invitation tickets.

- Dad, are we going in? - Richard asked, nodding toward the mass of people.

- Yes, Richie," replied the Duke. - Aunt Lisa has the ballroom and the reception hall in that wing.

'Aunt Lisa, eh? - thought the trainee. - Hmmm... I wouldn't be wrong in assuming that's what Gerald called Queen Elizabeth the Second... Fucking hell! This is blowing my mind."

Soon Richie and Gerald were inside. The boy gasped and couldn't tear himself away from the beauty that came into view.

The ballroom was thirty-six metres long and eighteen wide. It was decorated with Carrara marble. The exquisite Gothic interior was decorated with paintings by famous artists.

When Richie went up the wide staircase to the first floor for the sake of interest, he found himself in a huge dining room. From the street, it wasn't noticeable that the ceilings were so high. Moreover, the ceiling was made of glass mosaic, through which there was a view of the sky.

The walls were made in the form of arches. They protruded forward or formed niches. On those walls that protruded, at a height of about four metres, marble pedestals seemed to grow, on which were mounted shining armour with two-handed swords in their hands. It should be noted that there was a considerable distance from the helmets of the armour to the ceiling, where not only the hidden electric lamps, which illuminate the ceiling and light up the hall, were placed, but there was also space for openwork gilded metal structures supporting the glass ceiling. The niches housed gilded pedestals on which marble busts of the rulers of antiquity were placed.

In the centre of the reception hall, from its beginning to its end, there was a wide table, along which hundreds of chairs with burgundy upholstery were placed. The chairs were placed in such a way that the guests could leave without disturbing their neighbours, and they could not jostle each other with their elbows while eating. There was enough space behind the chairs for several waiters and guests to separate from each other without any problems. And what about the people - it was so spacious that you could drive a car through. The width of the dining table was at least one and a half metres, or even two metres. In its centre at certain intervals were installed electric lights disguised as candles.

Luxury! Splendour! Gold and glamour! That's what came to the mind of anyone who found themselves in this room of the castle.

Ritchie continued to look round the reception hall with bated breath and each time he found new details, such as portraits of kings and queens that he had not noticed before. Although it was strange not to notice the paintings two or three metres high and more than a metre wide, on which the rulers were depicted standing upright. And the red carpets? It was hard not to notice them because of the glitter of gold on all sides. Even the gigantic fireplace at the end of the room, which was at least five metres by five metres in size, was lost against the surrounding splendour. Besides, the fireplace was a long way away.

The obsession subsided, and Richard decided to return to the ballroom. The crowd had arrived, so Richie couldn't find his father.

The boy turned his head round, looking for familiar faces. He spotted an older man in a blue suit just like the Duke of Westminster. Thinking it was his father, the boy headed that way.

When Richie reached the right place, the man was standing with his back to him. He was chatting with an elderly lady in a blue dress and hat with a small bunch of wildflowers pinned to it.

Richie tugged lightly on the man's jacket and said:

- Dad, I've lost you.

The man turned to the boy, and then Richie realised it wasn't his father. He looked similar from behind, but when he turned round, the first thing that caught his eye was the lack of glasses on his face, slightly less wrinkles and blue eyes. There was a slight bald spot on the front of his head. The face was less puffy than Gerald's. A warm smile shone on his lips.

- Richie! - said the man who recognised the boy. - Hello, little boy. You've grown since the last time I saw you.

- Oh, I'm sorry," Richard said, embarrassed. - My mistake.

The old woman looked at Richard fondly and handed him a candy.

- You're Gerald's son, aren't you? - She asked.

Richard took the candy from the old lady's hands, put a charming smile on his face and replied:

- Thank you, madam. Yes, I am Gerald Grosvenor's son. Richie.

- Oh, what a charming young man," said the smiling old lady with a smile. - Call me Grandma Lizzie.

- Grandma Lizzie?! - Richie said with a questioning tone.

He realised who he was talking to, which caused him to experience cognitive dissonance. He couldn't imagine that one day he would be given a candy by the Queen of Great Britain herself. Richard turned his head to the older man and asked:

- Uncle Charlie, is that you? I'm sorry, I didn't recognise you at first.

- Ho-ho-ho-ho! Uncle Charlie! - Prince Charles was quite amused. - You used to call me godfather. Why? I like it, so call me Richie. It made me feel young, like I'd lost 30 years.

- Charlie, take the boy to the children's room," the queen asked her son.

- Yes, yes," Prince Charles said. - Richie, come with me.

The boy followed the prince. First they had to leave the hall. The prince led Richie down a wide corridor, which was still in the same Gothic style, lush with luxury, and into a small hall. Although, it depends on what you compare it to. The hall was ten metres long and about six metres wide. It was too big for a normal cottage, but against the backdrop of the palace, it was just a sample of miniaturisation.

There were many children between the ages of four and fourteen in the room. Not as many as the adults in the ballroom, only about three dozen, but they made so much noise that they could drown out the conversations of all the men and women in the great hall.

The five teenagers, aged twelve to fourteen, kept to a separate group, studiously ignoring the little ones. The kids Richie's age stayed close to their peers.

Four women in dark-coloured dresses looked after the children, probably nannies. In addition to them, there were several waiters setting a large table, and a couple of animators: a young blonde girl in a bright dress embroidered with flowers, and a guy in a dark suit.

There were children crowded around the animators. Apparently, something interesting was going on there. Only the older kids did not participate in the contests. The rest of the children were actively raising their hands and shouting something in response to the appeals of the girl in a flowery dress.

Surprisingly, all the kids were dressed in whatever they were wearing. Richie was the only one in a tailcoat and two other boys his age were in black suits: a slightly overweight brown-haired brown-eyed brown-haired boy with chubby cheeks and a russet-haired blue-eyed boy.

A four-year-old wheat-haired boy in a white sailor suit broke out of the crowd and ran towards Prince Charles. He exclaimed excitedly:

- "Papa, we're playing riddles. I've solved one!

Prince Charles smiled warmly at his son and said:

- "Well done, Harry.

Then another boy of about seven years old, the one with red hair and a suit, separated from the crowd. He also approached Prince Charles and said to him:

- "Daddy, how much longer are we going to be here?

- A long time, son," Prince Charles replied. - Bill, meet Richard," he pointed to Richard, "this is Richie, the son of my friend Gerald Grosvenor. Richie, these are my children," the man pointed his palm at a seven year old boy, "William," he then pointed at a small child, "and Harry.

- Pleased to meet you," Richie put the most charming smile he could muster on his face. He shook Harry's palm, then William's.

He was actually shocked at the people he had to deal with. These little guys are actually the elite of Britain, the princes. William is the second heir and Harry is the third. The first is Charles.

- Well, children, I'll leave you to it," Prince Charles said in a warm tone. - Have fun and remember to behave yourselves with dignity.

Prince Charles left the children's hall.

William looked like a cheerful child. He grabbed Richie's hand and dragged him along.

- 'Come on, Richie, I'll introduce you to a mate.

- All right, Bill.

William led Richard over to an eight-year-old brown-haired boy in a suit and addressed him at once:

- Look, Jas, this is Richie. Richie, this is Justin.

- Nice to meet you," Richard said.

It was difficult to communicate with children, but he realised that there were no ordinary kids here. They were children now, but a little time would pass, and soon they would become princes, dukes, lords. In general, the elite, with whom it is better to be friends from childhood. That's why Richard diligently played himself as an eight-year-old child and, in contrast to the communication with his classmates at school, tried to communicate with these children on an equal footing and wanted to make friends with them. Yes, from selfish motives, but otherwise a boy with the consciousness of an adult could not.

Justin, unlike the active and outgoing William, was a shy boy.

- Hi," he mumbled.

Richie remembered that his father had mentioned the son of a lord who was to attend the event. So the boy said:

- 'Do you guys know Finch-Fletchley?

- Um... - Justin got even more embarrassed and mumbled quietly:- That's my last name. Why?

- Oh! - Richard was happy. - My dad told me that your dad is a member of his hunting club. He mentioned that you would be at the event, and I wanted to be friends with you.

- Um..." Justin was confused. - You want to be friends with me?

- Yeah," Richard nodded seriously. - And I want to be friends with you too, Bill.

- Good! - William was happy. - Let's go to my room, and I'll show you my toys...

Richard expected different behaviour from the children of the elite, more mature. Being a commoner in his previous life and not communicating with people from high society, the guy thought that the children of aristocrats are chased by tutors, mushy, that they are smarter and more sensible than their peers. This was confirmed by the life of the predecessor before the hit. And it turned out that they were no different from ordinary kids of the same age. But it was even good and pleased the hit man. It's so easy with kids. Said that you want to be friends - in a minute you are already close to each other. On the one hand, the value of such friendship is negligible, on the other hand, growing up, people remember their childhood friends and subconsciously treat them well. And often childhood connections grow into a real strong male friendship. Richie was even willing to sincerely pretend to be a child for the sake of such bonds, looking at toys, playing and doing other unburdensome things.