Page 32 of Royal Surrogate 1

“So?” I counter. “What of it?”

He shakes his head. “So,” he says. “Something is off, and I’m not buying it. You’re hiding something.”

CHAPTER 24

Renae

When I wake to the morning’s sun on my face, Caspar’s side of the bed is cold.

Probably for the best, I think, climbing out of bed. After the restless night I’ve had, I’m not sure I could face him right now. I’m confident I made the right decision about us, but that doesn’t make it easy.

But I must hold firm. For my own sanity.

I quickly shower and dress and dab on a little makeup—I don’t normally wear a lot, but it feels appropriate in a place like this—and I’ve just finished blow-drying my hair when Caspar returns to the room.

“Good morning,” he says. His voice is cheerful, but the dark circles under his eyes suggest he got even less sleep than I did. How long has he been up?

“I took the liberty of ordering breakfast to be brought to the room,” he says. “It should be here any minute.”

“Thank you, that sounds wonderful.”

Maybe we can do this—maybe we can manage to be friendly without crossing the lines of business. There’s no reason our interactions shouldn’t be pleasant—we just need to keep them from getting too pleasant.

He’s still watching me as I run the brush through my hair once more, and I sense he has more to say. I lower the brush and look at him. “What is it?”

“I made a couple of appointments for us today as well,” he says.

“Oh.” I knew this was coming, of course, but nerves still flare to life in my stomach. “Doctors’ appointments?”

“No, nothing like that.” He looks almost embarrassed, which is odd for him. “We have some necessary business to take care of before that.” He clears his throat. “The wedding, specifically.”

“Oh. Of course.” We haven’t spent much time discussing that part of the deal—honestly, I’ve been constantly pushing it to the back of my mind, as if ignoring it would make all this simpler somehow.

“Naturally there are all sorts of arrangements that must be made,” he says. “Don’t worry—I’ll handle all the details. But in the meantime, you need something appropriate to wear.”

“A wedding dress.” I don’t mean to sound so terrified.

“Yes, a wedding dress. The seamstress should be here within the hour. And I do not exaggerate when I say that her work rivals that of any you’d find in the capital.”

I didn’t expect this to happen so soon, even though I should have. But I made a deal, and there’s no backing out now. “I suppose there’s some sort of traditional Montovian wedding dress I’ll need to wear?”

Caspar is quick to shake his head. “Not at all. Marie can mimic the latest designs out of Paris, if that’s what you’d like.”

“But I’m assuming there are some rules. Like…I need to have my shoulders covered or something.” I can hear the panic in my voice, rising with the increasing speed of my heart. “There must be some expectations?—”

“It’s your wedding dress, and it should be whatever you like,” Caspar says. He pauses, then adds, “I might, perhaps, encourage you to select something befitting your new title. We wouldn’t want people to think we’re ashamed of this marriage or hiding something.”

“But that’s exactly my point. I have no idea what someone marrying into royalty is supposed to wear to get married.” This is all happening so fast.

In an instant, Caspar is across the bathroom and taking my hand in his.

“I thought you’d be excited about this part,” he says. “Choosing your wedding dress is supposed to be fun.”

Is it? Even in circumstances like these?

Pull yourself together, I think. You’re picking out a dress for your own royal wedding. Even if the relationship is fake, you can still enjoy all the trappings. This is your once-in-a-lifetime chance to live out a fantasy.

Exhaling a deep breath, I nod. I can do this.

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