A Royal Engagement: The Young Royals Book 1 (12 page)

He grinned like he knew what I was thinking, like he knew he'd won.

"Relax, Lys," he said as he returned his glass to the table, "This place is amazing.
 
Everything on their menu is delicious.
 
Trust me."

What was it about those words that rubbed me the wrong way.
 
I was sure there was a saying about never trusting someone who said 'trust me' and it'd been a rule I'd stuck by.
 
Hearing Jordan say it made me uncomfortable.

And the rest of the meal didn't get any better.

Our conversation was stilted and nothing like the intimate lunches we'd shared during my mourning period.
 
It all felt fake and I hated that there were still people outside, trying to get photos of us eating or holding hands or something else to put on their front pages to sell papers.

And Jordan seemed off too.
 
He was too charming, too friendly, too sweet.
 
It came across as forced and sleazy and I rushed through my meal wanting it to be over as soon as possible.
 
I felt like I was in the twilight zone and nothing was as it seemed.

Had Jordan always been this cheesy or was he hamming it up for the cameras?
 
And if that's what he was doing, how did I feel about that?
 
He knew I hated being the centre of attention, but this date had been nothing if not all about the attention.

All I wanted to do was go home and shower.
 
Sitting in this restaurant with no other patrons felt a lot like sitting in a goldfish bowl and it made me question Jordan's motives for bringing me here.

The food was good though, what I ate of it anyway, but that didn't mean I was enjoying myself or that I would be in a hurry to repeat the experience.
 
It felt tawdry, orchestrated, and flew in the face of everything I stood for.

I was glad when the whole thing came to an end and I didn't speak to Jordan at all on the way home.
 
As soon a the car came to a stop, I was out of there and up the palace steps without looking back.

Chapter Eight

Out of the frying pan and into the fire.

Lunch was over, but I still had the ball to get through tonight.
 
Luckily Frederic would be my escort.
 
I was so annoyed at Jordan that I needed a few days to cool off before talking to him again.

From the moment I stepped back into the palace after that train wreck of a lunch date, it was all battle stations go to get me ready for the ball.
   
I was primped, prodded, brushed, waxed, polished and dusted to within an inch of my life.
 
And this wasn't even a gathering of foreign Heads of State, this was for local nobility only.

I did not get an opinion about any of it.
 
Between Savannah, Margaret, Bridgette and Annette all my choices were made for me.
 
My floor length gown was a white satin sheath covered by a sheer, intricately beaded, organza layer.
 
It had an empire waist and small capped sleeves.
 
Long white gloves covered my forearms finishing above my elbows. I was wearing sheer white La Perla underwear and Louboutin Cinderella shoes.

My long dark hair had been twisted and pinned up in an elaborate up style that set off the Princess tiara that I wore on my head.
 
The Royal treasury had also been raided for a stunning diamond necklace - but it was more than a necklace, being part choker as well.
 
The weight of it was substantial as it sat around my neck, wound up my throat and lay across my décolletage.
 
There were matching earrings and a matching bracelet and to top it all off, my pale blue sash of the Order of St Benét and it's diamond star and broach

After hours of me feeling like a dress-up doll, I was finally declared ready.
 
Alex came to get me and led me to a room that was set up as a photography studio.
 
I was photographed sitting, standing and every which way before Frederic joined me in all his Earl of Avonlea regalia.
 
His black tails, starched white shirt and white bow tie were complimented by his red sash of the Order of St Catherine and his medals of service.

He bowed formally to me and then took my arm and placed a kiss on my cheek.
 
Having him close helped me to relax.

"You look breathtaking," he whispered in my ear before walking with me to the big double doors that led onto the mezzanine level of the ballroom.

"Thanks Freddie," I whispered back and smiled at him.

The doors opened and the crier tapped his staff three times to get everybody's attention.
 
He then announced us in his loud, baritone voice.
 
The room bowed and curtsied as one and Frederic escorted me down the stairs.
 
I prayed that I wouldn't trip and fall and was thankful for his hand at my elbow.

As the crowd rose, my eyes connected with Will's and my heart skipped a beat.
 
He wore a dark tux, crisp white shirt with white bow tie.
 
His deep purple sash of the Order of the Griffon gave him an air of regency that had been lacking in our other
tête-à-têtes.
He inclined his head in acknowledgement of me and the edge of his lip quirked up in what I could only imagine was the beginning of a smile.
 
I ran my eyes down over his wide shoulders, chest and arms and realised he was not alone.
 
The stunning blonde woman I had seen him with at Jacob's funeral was on his arm.
 
My lips thinned and I felt a spike of...something, annoyance maybe?
 
I dragged my eyes away and scanned the rest of the crowd, a hollow feeling in the pit of my stomach.

Frederic led me to a seat, well a throne, really, on a raised dais.
 
This is where I would receive everybody, seated thankfully.
 
Frederic helped me to sit and then Dominique was beside me, along with Priscilla.
 
They would handle the introductions (and there would probably be a quiz after).
 
I knew most of the people here, but this was all part of the formalities.
 
Each person would be presented to me so I could be made aware of the rank in the hierarchy of the court.
 
I settled in for a long wait.

They began at the bottom and worked their way up the ranks.
 
Jordan and his parents were there and I greeted him coolly.
 
Meredith's parents were further up the chain as was Will.

"Your Royal Highness, may I present The Duke of Camphrey, Lord of Pemberton, Will Darkly and his sister Lady Georgina."

He bowed low and his sister (the gorgeous blonde I had been jealous of) curtsied prettily.

"Welcome My Lord and Lady," I said, finding my voice.
 
I had forgotten how high in the peerage Will's family were, in fact, I think they even had a claim on the throne.

They moved on, but I couldn't get past the look in his eyes when they rested on me.
 
They had darkened and his nose had flared and I'd felt my pulse quicken in response.
 
There was some sort of chemistry between us and I didn't rightly know if it was a good thing or a bad thing.

I smiled politely and nodded my head as I welcomed each person, but my thoughts were on Will and the strange way my body reacted to him whenever he was near.
 
Part of me wanted to explore it, but another part of me was scared as hell about what I might discover if I did.

And then there was Jordan to consider.
 
Yes, I was mad at him at the moment, but he had been a good friend to me and a comfortable companion throughout my months of mourning.
 
Him taking me out today was a declaration of a sort, although he had yet to actually speak to me about what exactly it was that he was declaring.

I didn't even know if Will liked me, so far we had only had one civil conversation that didn't end in him stalking off.
 
All of this chemistry could just be one-sided.
 
At least with Jordan, I knew he had feelings for me.

With the introductions complete, Frederic materialised at my side once again in order to escort me to dinner.
 
We were the last to enter the dining room and everyone stood behind their chairs waiting for me.
 
Again, with the traditions.
 
No one could sit until I did, no one could eat until I ate and once I was finished, everyone's plates were removed, whether they were finished or not.

I sighed inwardly as I took my place at the head table and sat.
 
The room was large and ornately decorated.
 
The head table sat across the end of the room with three long tables running perpendicular to it and down the length of the room.
 
The tables were dressed with crisp white linens and set with gold plated cutlery, gold edged china and luscious floral centrepieces.
 
Portraits of centuries of ruling monarchs graced the walls and my breath caught when I spied the recent portrait of my father.

In the corner a string quartet played and the lighting was soft, but not dark.
 
The soft hum of conversation swelled as drinks were poured into crystal flutes.
 
I had the Prime Minister seated on my right, his wife on my left, Frederic on her left and the Chief of Police on the Prime Minister's right.
 
I barely knew these people and yet I was to make conversation with them.

I scanned the tables looking for familiar faces.
 
My Ladies in Waiting were seated at about the middle of the first table, Jordan was seated with his parents towards the front of the second table.
 
Will and his sister were at the head of the first table, which took me by surprise.
 
His estate may be broke, but his influence in the court was still high.
 
It was the strange thing of peerage that I never really understood.
 
In most of the western world money equalled power, but in the Royal court, it was rank.

The first course was served, a creamy white soup, and I sipped it slowly aware that if I ate too fast some people may not even get a bite of theirs.

"Are you enjoying being home, Your Highness?" the Prime Minister asked me between slurps of soup.
 
The man was a noisy eater.

"Very much so," I replied, "I just wish it were under better circumstances."

"Of course," he said with an inclination of his head.
 
"Such a tragedy."

"Indeed," I replied.

"Your gown is lovely," the Prime Minister's wife commented into the lull.

"Thank you," I replied, "How are your children?"

The conversation was stilted and uncomfortable, small talk not being one of my strengths.
 
Course after course was placed before me and I ate slowly and sparingly.
 
I sipped more water than wine and just wanted the dinner to end.
 
Finally, with the completion of dessert, I was escorted back into the ballroom.

Frederic led me out onto the dance floor to get the dancing started and I relaxed in his arms.
 
He was a wonderful dancer and his witty repartee loosened the tension that had been building up in my shoulders throughout the night.
 
When the song ended, I was handed off to another man.
 
The instant his hands touched me I was lost.
 
It was Will and his blue eyes stared down at me intently.

"Your Royal Highness," he said as we began to dance.

"Lord Darkly," I replied, my voice breathy.

"You look...wonderful," he finally said and my cheeks warmed with the compliment.

"Thank you," I replied, my eyes downcast.

He cleared his throat and I looked back up at him, "How," he paused and tried again, "How are you?"

I know that he wasn't asking after my health, but rather how I was dealing with the loss of my father and brother.
 
Tears pricked my eyes unexpectedly and his gaze softened.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, "I didn't mean to upset you."

I smiled sadly at him, "It's okay," I replied, "The strangest things set me off.
 
I suppose it is all part of the grieving process."

The truth was, no one had actually asked me how I was coping, they just expected me to cope.
 
His kindness, the compassion in his voice, was what made me tear up.

He nodded in agreement, "Yes, that's true," he said and I saw a sadness in his eyes.
 
He knew loss too and it gave us a kind of kinship.

"How're your cows?" I asked, trying for levity, "Are they recovered from their misadventure?"

He smiled, disarming me with the way it lit up his face, "Oh yes, they are quite recovered.
 
I fear they had a little moment of 'the grass is greener'."