Recklessly Royal
For Jonathan,
my dashing rogue in not so shiny armor.
ONE
T
HERE WOULDN
’
T BE
more press outside of Rousseau Manor if Queen Elizabeth herself was planning to parade around in her panties while singing the British national anthem. I peeked out the curtain of the top floor when the doorbell chimed—another delivery of wedding gifts for the soon-to-be-married couple. I took a deep breath and let the curtain fall closed.
I wasn’t sure why I was feeling antsy as my brother’s wedding drew near. Turning back to the mirror in the guest bathroom, I traced the bags under my eyes with my fingers and sighed. I brushed the stray blond hair out of my face. The blue of my eyes looked pale, almost gray in the sterile bathroom light. I hadn’t slept much in the last week, trying to keep the wedding stress from landing on my brother’s or Samantha’s shoulders. They’d been tying up loose ends at the Future Bird Trust and attending to the immediate needs of their estates and royal duties. I knew they were worried about leaving too much for me and Max, my brother, to handle while they were away for their month-long honeymoon. It annoyed me, even though I knew they were doing it out of love, but it felt like they didn’t think I would be able to handle the responsibility.
It wasn’t just the lack of sleep that had me down, though. As people RSVP’d and sent in joint gifts I was constantly reminded that I had no date for the wedding; no one guaranteed to dance with me or to sneak away with me if we got bored. It
bothered
me. For the last few years I had all but ignored men, kept them at a distance. I hadn’t kissed anyone in so long I was beginning to doubt I ever had. My cousins were having babies and I still had my V card. It was getting to be ridiculous. And as I got older it felt more like a burden than something to be proud of—an embarrassing story to have to explain to a potential lover.
Laughter from down the hall derailed my pity party. I had things to do, and the last thing I wanted to have happen was for Sam to worry about me. Practicing a smile in the mirror, I washed my hands and brushed the hair out of my face. It wasn’t that I didn’t love Sam or that I minded setting everything up—in fact I loved doing it all—it was just that my loneliness had been brought into sharp relief as lovebirds and cartoon hearts circled my head.
I’d scheduled a spa day for me, Sam, and Jess. It was something to help get us ready for the wedding and, even more importantly, to keep Sam out of the public eye. The country was overbrimming with paparazzi, salivating for wedding pictures. Despite her increasing comfort level with being in the public eye, I didn’t want her to be stressed before the wedding. Getting married should be a happy occasion, not something burdened with strangers and roadblocks.
I made my way down the hall and peeked into the doorway and felt my smile become real. Samantha’s feet twitched and she muttered curses under her breath as the technician worked. I covered my mouth and tried to not laugh. Jess was silently filming the whole ordeal with her phone. Probably blackmail to counter the video Samantha took at Jess’s bachelorette party.
“Suck it up, cupcake!” I walked in and poked one of her flailing legs. “You don’t want to look like you have hairy caterpillars attached to your face on your wedding day.”
“This is torture!”
“Threading is the best way to go. You’re going to look amazing.” I patted her knee.
“I’m going to kill you both.” Sam turned her head to look at us. “Ouch!”
“My apologies, Duchess.” The technician moved to the other eyebrow. “Try to stay still and it will hurt less.”
I shook my head but took a couple of steps out of Sam’s reach. “Stop being a big baby.”
“Just think, after this you still have your bikini waxing!” Jess laughed.
A loud grunt of anger was our only answer.
When the technician finally finished, she left the room to go get the wax ready. I handed Sam a bottle of water and checked our schedule on my phone. I was debating switching the times for the massage and the bikini waxing. Maybe it would be best to do the bikini wax after the massage. That way Sam would be relaxed. Of course, if I did that, it would probably ruin that after-massage glow. Best to leave it the way it was.
“Cathy, when I said I didn’t want to go to the clubs or have male strippers, that didn’t mean I wanted to have my skin peeled off my body instead.” Sam narrowed her eyes at me.
“You said a spa day would be great.” I laughed when she threw a pillow at me. “Relax. We’re doing fun stuff tomorrow. We’re just getting the torture out of the way first.”
“Oh, what are we doing?” Jess leaned forward. “Tell me it’s something crazy and fun.”
“I’m not telling.” I shook my head. “Just get through today and it will all be worth it.”
“I’m not sure anything is worth what you’re putting me through today.” Sam mock-glared.
“Wah. Shut it and take it like a woman!” I stood up and clapped my hands together. “Ready to get waxed?”
“No. Definitely not and never will be.” Sam shook her head vehemently. “No one’s going to be seeing that anyway.” Sam looked at me with pleading eyes. She’d gotten really good at them.
“Hello? Honeymoon, private island, your new husband?” Jess leaned back in her seat. “You don’t want to look like the bride of Bigfoot.”
“Hey!” Sam reached over and shoved Jess’s knee.
I snorted. “Alex wouldn’t notice. My brother is disgustingly besotted.”
“My luck someone would get a picture of me running around in a bikini and title it something unimaginative but equally horrible, like the ‘America’s Hairy Duchess.’” Sam drank more of her water.
“Oh! What about ‘Destitute Duchess Forgoes Wax and Razors’?” Jess laughed.
“Har, har.” Sam snorted.
“And that’s why we’re taking care of it all today.” I grabbed Sam’s arm. “Enough stalling.”
“Let’s do this!” Jess stood up and grabbed Sam’s other arm.
“You two are cruel and I never should have introduced you.” Sam stood up and pulled her arms away from us.
Jess and I placed bets on how Samantha would react to the waxing procedure. I felt sure that Sam would hold it together but Jess didn’t agree. Thankfully, Sam didn’t burst out of the room naked and half waxed at any point, which is exactly what Jess thought would happen. This meant I won the right to not help Sam if she had to go to the bathroom in the wedding dress. Being crammed in a stall, holding yards of fabric while my sister-in-law relieved herself, really wasn’t something I wanted to do if it could be helped. Instead when she came out of the room she went straight to the kitchen for wine. That was something I could get behind.
Over the last two years I had become very comfortable with Rousseau Manor so I headed straight for the wine cellar while Sam and Jess got glasses. A couple of years ago, I wouldn’t have known where the kitchen was, much less the wine, but with the reinstatement of the missing royal families I’d become acquainted with Rousseau very well. When Sam took permanent residence at Rousseau it had meant lots of movie nights, cookouts, and shenanigans. I looked toward the cupboard for food, but didn’t have to worry. Margie, the cook, had left out a tray of snacks for us to munch on.
In triumph, I held up the bottle of red I had found, while Jess cheered.
“Gimme, gimme, gimme.” Sam held her hand out. “This has been a traumatic day. I need something to get me through the rest of it.”
“Pansy.” I handed her a glass and poured her a hefty amount. “And next is a massage. Not exactly painful.”
“Pansy, my ass! Tell me again why I couldn’t just get my eyebrows waxed? They feel raw.” Sam touched her forehead gently before she drank some of her wine. “And don’t even get me started about the torture I just went through. I would have rather been put on the rack in the Tower of London.” She winced.
“Threading is the best. Your eyebrows look fantastic.” I didn’t mention that there would be thousands of people taking her picture or that it would be plastered across every magazine in the world. She was already antsy about the guest list and normal stuff—she didn’t need to worry about the media attention.
Samantha’s phone beeped and she pulled it out of her pocket. She frowned before typing quickly.
“What’s wrong?” I leaned forward to peek at her screen.
“The friend I hired to work at the FBT is getting in early. Apparently he made a mistake booking his ticket and will be here tomorrow.”
“Is he staying here?” I sorted through the snacks until I found a carrot stick. “We’re doing the bachelorette thing tomorrow.”
“I know.” Sam frowned. “He was already uncomfortable about staying here, but I don’t want to ask him to stay in town.”
“Eh. It’ll work out.” I smiled and shrugged. “It always does.”
“So, just a massage now?” Sam looked from me to Jess. “I could use a massage.”
“Massage time for everyone.” I smiled and rubbed my hands together. Sam wasn’t the only one who needed to relax.
“Wait a minute! Why do you guys get massages? I’m the one that’s been plucked and skinned alive.” Sam frowned. “I should get all three massages myself.”
“No way, Princess.” I laughed when her face froze. “What? That’s what you’ll be in a few days. Good-bye America’s Duchess and hello America’s Princess.”
“And one day you’ll be America’s Que—” Jess was stopped by the look on Sam’s face.
“Nope. Don’t go there.” Sam shook her head. “One thing at a time. That’s a lot to swallow.”
“You won’t have to worry about that for a long time anyways.” I put my hands on the counter.
“It’s just a lot to take in.” Sam sighed. “It’s a lot of responsibility.”
“Meh. It’s worth it.” Jess sat up a little straighter. “You’ve got Prince Yummy.”
“And me!” I lifted my wineglass.
“And Cathy.” Jess laughed. “Not to mention a ridiculous amount of money, awesome job, and fabulous friends.”
“All true.” Sam shook her head. “So you’re saying I should stop my bitching.”
“Exactly.” I laughed.
“Look at us. I’m still in school, barely sleep, and poor Cathy hasn’t had a boyfriend the entire time I’ve known her.” Jess tipped her glass toward me.
Sam looked over at me and frowned, but I shrugged it off. “I’m picky.”
“We get it, Cathy.” Sam sighed. “It’s hard to find someone worth the risk.”
“What risk? I’m not talking about you finding a husband, just someone to spend a little time with.” Jess wiggled her eyebrows. “Take the edge off. How long has it been?”
My cheeks heated and I took a sip of my wine. There was no mistaking what she meant. How had the conversation turned into a discussion about my sex life?
“Jess.” Sam set her glass down. “Leave her alone. She has her reasons.” I’d confided in Samantha once after a night of drinking when she asked about guys at school. It had been nice to talk to someone—especially my soon-to-be sister-in-law. She hadn’t made me feel foolish for being scared of what could happen.
“What?” Jess looked between us before leaning forward. “Oh my God. You mean you haven’t . . .”
“No.” I shrugged and hoped I could pull off nonchalance, because it was the farthest thing from what I was actually feeling. “Too much at risk. How am I supposed to know if someone wants me for me? And if I just do it to get it over with, what if they try to use it against me? Or to manipulate me?” I thought about the photos of Alex that his ex had released, and shuddered. I’d never be able to understand how he had stayed so calm. I had been a wreck and the pictures weren’t even of me. “It’s not just my virginity. It could haunt me forever.”