Page 33 of Royal Surrogate 1

Caspar relaxes slightly, but he still looks a touch worried.

“If you like,” he says, “I can come along and advise you.”

“Isn’t that supposed to be bad luck?”

“What is?”

“Seeing the bride in the dress before the big day.” I realize what I’m saying and add, “I guess that doesn’t matter in our case. Since this isn’t real.”

“No, I suppose it doesn’t,” he says, but he’s still frowning.

“I think I would appreciate the help,” I tell him. “I’m still trying to figure out how to navigate this world of yours.”

“Of course.” He straightens his shoulders. “I’d be happy to help.”

The matter is settled, then. And I do feel a little better, knowing I’m not in this alone.

I can’t believe I’m going to be picking out a wedding dress today. When I imagined this day growing up, it was always very different. But a lot has changed in these last few years—and that’s why I’m even here at all.

So I lift my chin, encouraging myself to make the best of this. One way or another, this appointment is going to be very interesting—especially with Caspar in tow.

CHAPTER 25

Caspar

My brother was right, and I’m not sure how I overlooked it. In my haste to bear a son, I forgot about the trappings of a royal wedding. I don’t know how I could have been so stupid.

And the most royal of affairs it shall be, I think as I type into my phone. Certainly, I won’t be able to have a more extravagant wedding than my eldest cousin, Prince Andrew. But I’ll come close.

I’m happy that Renae has allowed me to accompany her, though I’ve done little but sit on the tiny, red upholstered bench outside the suite since the modiste arrived at the manor. Apparently, Renae was correct—it is bad luck for a groom to see the dress before the wedding, after all.

Which is why I’ve summoned assistance. Well, for that reason among others. And though it seems it’s been days that I’ve been sitting on this small bench, it’s only a few hours before my cousin Sophia arrives. While she’s the youngest of my cousins, she’s the most outgoing. Also the only female among this generation of royals, and hopefully, the most discreet. At any rate, she’s the only one of my cousins I trust not to alert my mother—or hers, for that matter—about my expeditious nuptials.

She swishes her dress with a huff and tosses her long brown hair over her shoulder as she plops onto the bench across from me. “Do tell, Cousin. It isn’t often I’m summoned to Wintervale for an emergency fashion crisis.”

“I said nothing of the sort, Highness.” I rise, only to give her my deepest bow.

She rolls her large blue eyes, finally laughing as she folds her hands in front of her. “All right. What is it? You’ve found yourself in some sort of pickle? You know how I love to help.” My cousin does love to get involved in all sorts of…compromising situations. She’s settled down a bit since she married her rock star husband, but only by a little. She still somehow manages to find herself embroiled in plenty of controversy.

“Something like that,” I say, sitting again. “I’m engaged.”

“You?” She laughs. “You? Caspar, Heir to the Guardianship of Wintervale? Most eligible bachelor this side of the Atlantic?” She shakes her head. “I don’t believe it. What sort of blackmail does this woman have on you? That would be the only explanation for such blasphemy.”

“We’re to be married within the week,” I say, ignoring her taunts. “I know how good you are with…discretion, and I needed your assistance. I can’t ask my mother, and I’d prefer not to get your mother involved if we could help it. But I want to make my ceremony the grandest affair Montovia has seen since Andrew’s wedding. Grander, if we can.”

“Of course,” she says, trying to hide her amusement. “Because you must be grander than the heir to the actual throne of Montovia.” She rolls her eyes again, glancing at the door to the suite beside me. “Who is this woman? She must be royal?—”

“She isn’t. She’s?—”

I’m interrupted by the door opening. The dressmaker steps out, glaring at me. “I told you,” she says in her French accent, “it is bad luck to see the dress before the wedding. But Miss Renae insists. Come.” She beckons me with her hand. “But do not look if you do not want misfortune to reign over your marriage.”

“I…won’t.” I follow her into the suite, pulling my cousin in with me.

Sophia gasps when she sees Renae, and I must admit, my jaw feels as though it has dropped to the floor.

She’s exquisite. I know I’m not supposed to be looking, but her dress is perfection, white silk flowing from her in cascades of beauty?—

“Caspar!” Sophia covers my eyes with her hands as she turns me around. “You heard what she said. You shouldn’t even be in here.”

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