Page 5 of Royally Wed
“Hello, darling.” Her Majesty looked up from her writing desk when Amelia entered the sitting room. A glorious display of lilac roses—fresh from Kensington Gardens—sat perched just to her right.
Amelia’s motherloved roses. The staff made sure every room in the palace had a fresh arrangement at all times. On Sundays, when the royal florist visited Buckingham, the air in the palace was velvety sweet.
“Good morning, Mum.” Amelia dropped into a quick curtsy. Royal tradition dictated that the first time she saw her mother on any given day, a curtsy was required. “You wanted to see me?”
The half dozen corgissleeping at the queen’s feet lifted their heads and swiveled their gazes in Amelia’s direction. All but one of them trotted over to greet her in a frenzy of excited barks and wiggling behinds. Willow was the only hold-out, as per usual. The youngest of the pack, Willow was notorious forher general disdain toward everyone. Other than Her Majesty, of course.
“Good morning to you, too, you littlemonsters.” Amelia plopped cross-legged onto the floor and let the dogs jockey for position in her lap while she ran her hands over their soft coats. She was pretty sure her mother’s dogs got blowouts more frequently than anyone else in the building.
“Amelia, you’re a twenty-six-year-old woman. Must you sit on the floor?” At the sound of the queen’s voice, the corgis immediately stopped barking,proving yet again that Amelia was the most disobedient member of the royal fold.
Amelia sighed inwardly, and repositioned herself on the sofa to the right of her mother’s desk. She tucked one foot behind the other and placed her hands in her lap. “Better?”
“Yes, quite.” The queen waved toward the corridor. “There are people milling about everywhere preparing for your wedding. The least you cando is refrain from flinging yourself onto the floor.”
Act like a princess bride at all times. Note taken.
Amelia took a deep breath, pasted a royal smile on her face, and tried not to think about her very unbridal moment the night before at Westminster Abbey.
She hadn’t meant to cry.
She’d gone to the church for a walk-through of the ceremony with Holden and stuck around for a while afterit had ended. The private rehearsal had been their third such appointment. By the time the actual ceremony rolled around, she’d probably be able to go through the motions in her sleep.
Which might be convenient, now that she thought aboutit. Did she really want to be fully conscious when she promised to love, honor, and obey Holden?
“Are you going to tell me why I’ve been summoned?” Ameliapatted the empty cushion beside her, and one of the dogs leapt onto the sofa. Bee. Or was this one Whisky? They looked so much alike it was difficult to tell them apart.
“How’d things go at the Abbey last night?” Her mother narrowed her gaze.
I broke down in front of a total stranger—an American. Which meant he was a tourist. He’s probably talking about it to TMZ at this very moment.
She wasan idiot. Speaking to him hadn’t been wise. Letting him see her face had been monumentally stupid. But she’d been so moved by his music, she hadn’t been thinking clearly. She hadn’t been thinkingat all, obviously.
“Everything went just as planned.” Amelia’s hand balled into a fist in the thick, furry scruff around Bee’s stout neck. “Why do you ask?”
Was it her imagination, or was her motherlooking at her as though she could see straight inside her head?
That was simply her mother’s default expression, though—all knowing. Kings and queens of England were thought to be ordained by God, after all. Perhaps the Great Almighty had passed along a dash of omniscience to go with the crown and scepter.
“I’m the mother of the bride. Shouldn’t I be interested in such things?”
“Yes, I supposeyou should.” It was just so strange being the center of Her Majesty’s attention on an occasion thatdidn’t involve some of kind of wrongdoing on Amelia’s part.
But youdidmake a spectacle of yourself in front of a total stranger last night.
Every time she thought about it she wanted to die.
“Well?” The queen peered over the top of her glasses. “Do fill me in.”
The back of Amelia’s neck grewunbearably hot all of a sudden. This was the moment to confess. Now, while the palace would have the upper hand. The queen’s private secretary could probably plant a story in the papers—a preemptive strike before the entire world got wind of the fact that she’d been crying her eyes out in the church where she was getting married in ten days.
She took a deep breath.
Just say it... I made amistake.
No one would be surprised, least of all her mother. In truth, the queen had probably been waiting for Amelia to ruin everything all along.
“It was lovely,” she heard herself say. “Archbishop Clarke was kind and accommodating. Holden was charming, as usual. And Eleanor was there, too, which was nice.”
