The British monarchy has long been shrouded in tradition, secrecy, and, at times, scandal. But few chapters have been as explosive—or as fiercely contested—as the revelations now swirling around Prince Andrew and his family. The latest storm was unleashed by the publication of Andrew Lownie’s new book, Entitled: The Rise and Fall of the House of York, which has sent shockwaves through royal circles and reignited a national debate over the future of the Duke of York’s titles and standing.
From the outset, it’s clear that Prince Andrew and his ex-wife, Sarah Ferguson, would have preferred this book never saw the light of day. According to Lownie, the couple took extraordinary measures to suppress unflattering details, employing lawyers and PR professionals, binding staff with non-disclosure agreements, and, in one alarming instance, even bugging staff quarters. Royal exemptions in the Freedom of Information Act and parliamentary conventions further insulated them from scrutiny, as reported by Air Mail. “The Foreign, Commonwealth & Development Office told ambassadors not to talk to me about Andrew’s time as the special representative for trade and investment,” Lownie recounted. Documents about Andrew’s decade in that role—funded by taxpayers—were withheld or, in some cases, reportedly erased from government computers.
What exactly did these documents conceal? Lownie’s investigation suggests they would have revealed a pattern of Prince Andrew leveraging his royal position for personal gain. On official trade missions, Andrew was often accompanied by businessmen with private interests—including the notorious Jeffrey Epstein—and even brought his daughters along, incurring significant security costs. The book contends that the Yorks’ relationship with Epstein began earlier and was deeper than previously acknowledged, with Epstein settling more of Ferguson’s debts than had ever been made public. But, as Lownie asserts, “the relationship with Epstein turned out to be the least of the Yorks’ misdeeds.”
The real scandal, according to the book and corroborated by reporting in News.com.au and the Daily Mail, is the family’s financial dealings. Despite their 1996 divorce, Andrew and Ferguson have enjoyed the comforts of the 30-room Royal Lodge in Windsor, acquired a $24 million Swiss chalet, and amassed an enviable collection of luxury vehicles and watches—including a Patek Philippe worth over $200,000 and a $295,000 Bentley. These luxuries, the book alleges, were funded by leveraging royal status and cultivating lucrative relationships through Andrew’s official and charitable work.
Pitch@Palace, Andrew’s charity designed to connect entrepreneurs and investors, is at the heart of these claims. While the charity benefited from royal resources, Andrew reportedly established a for-profit overseas arm that entitled him to 2% of any investment raised. He also took a 1% commission on a $511 million deal involving a Greek water company’s investment in Kazakhstan. In China, Andrew’s business dealings were facilitated by Yang Tengbo, a businessman accused of espionage and banned from Britain, and by David and Jonathan Rowland—advisers whose ties to Andrew included paying off debts and providing multi-million-dollar loans.
Legal disputes have provided rare glimpses into these opaque financial arrangements. When Chinese investors in Gate Ventures questioned the fate of their $25 million investment, it emerged that the Duchess received $96,000 annually as a non-executive director, over $265,000 for marketing, and nearly $120,000 in loans—none of which were adequately explained. Another case revealed payments from Alphabet Capital: nearly $1 million to Andrew, $300,000 to Ferguson, and over $33,000 to their daughter Eugenie, who later admitted she did not know the “long-standing family friend” who sent the funds. Both Eugenie and her sister Beatrice are reported to have supported their father’s financial schemes and now attend Saudi economic conferences, forging their own connections in the Middle East.
The book doesn’t shy away from the most salacious details, either. According to News.com.au, Lownie alleges that Prince Andrew lost his virginity at age 11, following a first sexual experience at age 8. By age 13, Andrew had reportedly slept with more than half a dozen girls. One source told The Telegraph they were aware of Andrew’s “sexual experiences at what most of us would consider as too young an age.” Lownie justified including these claims as necessary for “building a picture of behavior, and how it shaped his life.”
Perhaps most damning are the allegations about Andrew’s ties to Epstein. Lownie claims Andrew met Epstein in the early 1990s, contradicting Andrew’s public assertion in his infamous BBC “Newsnight” interview that their first meeting was in 1999. Epstein is quoted as describing Andrew as a “serial sex addict” and “the most perverted animal in the bedroom.” Ivan Novikov, Epstein’s driver, recalled driving Andrew and two young women—both around 18—to a hotel in New York, where he witnessed cocaine use and Andrew making out with one of the girls. As of publication, Andrew had not responded to these allegations, which have only intensified scrutiny of his conduct.
With the book’s release imminent, the question of whether Prince Andrew should be stripped of his remaining titles has resurfaced. The Daily Mail reports that only 6% of readers opposed such a move in a recent poll. Royal correspondents and commentators, including Editor-at-Large Richard Kay, note that Andrew has already been “effectively sacked” from public life. “Short of sending him far, far away—and who would want him?—it’s difficult to know what to do with him,” Kay remarked. Rebecca English, who has covered the royal beat for over two decades, pointed out the dilemma: “They can’t airbrush him out—he is a member of their family.”
Removing Andrew’s dukedom or his role as Counsellor of State would require parliamentary intervention. While some royal watchers advocate for such steps, others, like Richard Eden, suggest it could be accomplished with relative ease, citing recent adjustments to the Counsellors of State list. Yet political complications and the precedent such a move would set make it unlikely, at least for now.
Lownie himself faced significant obstacles in researching the book, contacting over 3,000 individuals and conducting 300 interviews, most off the record. “They felt it was time to challenge the York family’s carefully curated narrative,” he said, highlighting the code of silence and legal threats that shield the royals from scrutiny. As he put it, “Charming people.”
The book’s release has already had an impact, catapulting it to No. 1 on Amazon, in part thanks to the media frenzy surrounding a claim about a fight between Prince Andrew and Prince Harry—an allegation promptly denied by Harry’s team, who threatened legal action. Yet, as Lownie notes, it is the Yorks’ financial dealings, not just their ties to Epstein, that pose the gravest threat to the monarchy’s reputation.
As the British public and the world watch the fallout from these revelations, one thing is clear: the House of York’s secrets are no longer safely hidden behind palace walls. The coming weeks may bring more disclosures—and more questions about the future of the royal family’s most controversial member.
