Page 103 of The Last Days of Lilah Goodluck

Dougal ponders the question for a moment. “Well, I don’t know. Where were you thinking?”

“Venice or maybe Lake Como? I feel like pasta and red wine for some reason. We could have gelato instead of wedding cake. Doesn’t that sound like fun?”

Dougal scrunches up his nose. “Not Europe at this time of year. The damp will play havoc with my knees.”

“Fine,” says Lady Helena under much duress. “How about...oh, I don’t know, Cairns?”

“Australia? Aye. That’ll do.”

Alistair’s mouth just hangs open. So does the king’s.

“Just to be certain we’re both on the same page,” says Her Ladyship. “We are getting married, old man?”

“That’s right.” Dougal nods. “Thought you’d never come to your senses and ask.”

“I’m a slow learner. What can I say?” Lady Helena shrugs. “How about a glass of champagne for everyone to celebrate?”

“At this hour of the morning?”

“Mimosas, then,” she says decidedly. “Don’t bother buying me a ring. I have more than enough of them already.”

“If I did, you’d just lose it anyway.”

Lady Helena’s smile is huge. “That’s true.”

“B-but you can’t,” splutters the king. “He’s your gardener or butler or whatever the hell he’s supposed to be.”

Dougal raises one brow. “Aye. I am. And I’ll be sure to do a fine job of being her husband as well. She’s a high-needs woman, to be sure. But then, I’m a very giving man.”

“Yes, you are. Which way is the kitchen again?” Lady Helena asks, heading for the hallway. “We’re going to need juice and maybe some little snacky things. I can’t decide between sweet and savory. What do you think would suit?”

“Not sure. But there’s bound to be something that’ll do.” Dougal follows his fiancée. “Let’s see what’s in the fridge.”

Father and son both seem to be somewhat stupefied. At least, they’re both staring at the newly betrothed couple as they leave the room. The expressions of disbelief for Alistair and horror for the king are rather comic.

“I just want to say right now, we are not having a double wedding.” I also head for the exit. “Do not let her talk you into it.”

“No,” agrees Alistair. “Where are you going, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“To give you two some privacy.”

A line appears embedded between his brows. “You could wait with Mother and Dougal.”

“I’m not standing there watching those two make out. Don’t ask me to do that. It’s too much.”

“Fair point.” He holds out his hand. “Stay with me. Please. I trust you. There’s nothing we’re going to say that you can’t hear.”

The king opens his mouth to no doubt disagree, but Alistair repeats, “Nothing.”

“You’re serious about her,” his father says. Though it’s strange to think of him that way. He’s been a grim face in magazines and online gossip sites my whole life.

“You know, you’ve been this distant disapproving figure since I was born. That’s the only contribution you’ve made to my life. So you’ll understand when I say your opinion regarding my fiancée is not required.”

I hold Alistair’s hand and keep my mouth shut. For now, at least.

The king tugs on his cuffs and stands up straight. “I understand my sister shared the details regarding the opportunity for you to attend some smaller official events this spring. To be introduced to the public and to meet more of the family in a somewhat formal setting. It would be a chance for you to be recognized to a certain degree.”

“Listen to you,” drawls Alistair.

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