Page 48 of Royally Wed
CHAPTER
ELEVEN
The following day, Amelia had her final wedding dress fitting with the designers from Alexander McQueen.
As with everything else involving THE WEDDING, as she’d come to think of it, the fitting was a team event, necessitating three stylists, two seamstresses, and the queen of England. Possibly an MI5 agent or two as well.
The six corgis were also in attendance. Obviously. Theywere in a big furry pile on the tartan dog bed, swiveling their heads back and forth in unison as the dress designers flitted about the room.
Amelia would have loved to go to the Alexander McQueen flagship store in Mayfair to try on her dress. She was beginning to get a bit stir-crazy, and returning to Cadogan Hall was out the question for obvious reasons. But of course, a trip to Mayfair wasalso impossible. The design of her dress had become the most closely guarded secret in London. Several decoy gowns had even been made, just in case someone within the design house succumbed to temptation and leaked information to the press. Rumor had it that theDaily Mailwas offering a ten-thousand-pound fortune to anyone who could provide a simple sketch of the gown. An actual photograph ofthe dress would bring in five times that amount.
Only Amelia and the queen knew which of the gowns she’d wear on the big day. As such, the fitting was a major ordeal. The queen’s sitting room had been transformed into a bridal showroom, with a rack filled with half a dozen frothy white dresses, a pedestal, and oversized dressing room mirrors. There was an alterations station, complete with twosewing machines, and several plastic heads sporting wedding veils. Amelia’s calendar had been blocked out for the entire day. She was basically living an entire season ofSay Yes to the Dressin real time.
“Amelia, stop fidgeting,” her mother said, as she examined Amelia’s reflection. “And for goodness’ sake, stop humming.”
“Sorry.” Amelia clamped her mouth shut.
The Elton John tune that Asherhad played for her the night before had been spinning through her head on constant repeat. She hadn’t realized she’d been humming along out loud.
“I’m sure she’s just excited.” The lead designer gave the queen a knowing smile. “She’s getting married in two days to her royal groom. It’s like a dream come true.”
Not exactly. “Indeed it is.”
It was probably wrong that she couldn’t quit thinkingabout Asher while she was trying on wedding dresses. Scratch that. It wasdefinitelywrong.
“It’s so good to see a happy bride. You look lovely,” thedesigner said as she arranged the train on gown number three into a dramatic swirl at Amelia’s feet. “Just lovely.”
“Thank you.” Amelia made a point to examine her reflection in the full-length mirrors that had been set up in her mother’s sittingroom for the occasion. The current gown wasn’t the real deal. It might be lovely, but she’d never wear it again.
Just as she’d never sit beside Asher at the piano again.
She shouldn’t have done so the night before. But after interfering where she didn’t belong at rehearsal, she’d told herself she was simply making amends, even though she knew good and well it wasn’t true.
She was running outof ways to deceive herself. And that was fine. Because she hadn’t actually done anything wrong, had she?
She’d promised herself she’d stop turning up in Asher’s room, and she’d remained faithful to that vow. They’d met on neutral ground. Granted,she’dbeen the one to pursuehim... yet again... but there’d been no romantic agenda. She’d simply wanted to help him, one friend to another.
Mostly.
Amelia closed her eyes, pressed her palm to her abdomen, and took a deep breath. She was making a terrible mess of things. What was wrong with her?
Asher had nearly kissed her again. He hadn’t, but he’d wanted to. She could see it in his eyes. She could feel it in the way his gaze raked over her, hot and wanting.
Holden had never looked at her with such blatant longing before. No manhad.
And when her gaze fixed with his, Amelia had caught a glimpse of her reflection in the beautiful blue of Asher’s irises and what she’d seen had terrified her.
Desire.
It was written all over her face. She wanted Asher. And she’d apparently given up on trying to hide it.
Thank God she’d come to her senses and asked him to play her a song. Who knows what she would have done if he hadn’tshifted his attention to the piano? Even after he had, she couldn’t stop watching his elegant hands as they moved over the keys. There’d been such reverence in his touch. Pure and humble adoration. Amelia would have sacrificed the crown itself to be touched by those hands, even once.
What must he think of her? She was supposed to be in love with Holden. She was Holden’sbride. The long whitegown she was wearing at the moment was a pretty powerful reminder.
Amelia cleared her throat and focused on the delicate lace fabric of the dress.Holden is my future. He’s the one I should be thinking about. Not Asher.
“I think we’re ready to move on to the next one. Do you agree, ma’am?” The designer met the queen’s gaze in the mirror.
