Shrugging, I kept my tone light. “It’s not a done deal yet.”
Sitting upright, he began buttering a piece of toast. “That’s not what I heard.”
“Care to enlighten me?”
“Father received a call last night that the courtship will begin immediately. We are dining at the palace tonight.”
It was a done deal? And no one had thought to tell me? When Lucy last saw me—well, at least when she thought she did—she was livid at the idea of marriage to me. It also begged the question of when she agreed to the match.
The timeline didn’t add up. I’d left her sleeping at the club, and Max said the call came in last night. Lucy went to Desire looking for sexafteragreeing to a courtship with me? Even though I was the man she ended up fucking, anger began to churn in my gut. She didn’t know it was me. When exactly did she intend to endher membership? If I was willing to give it up in a marriage, I’d expect the same of her.
Lucy was like a wild stallion that needed to be broken. I wasn’t sure I had the strength.
Pushing that to the back of my mind, I circled back to the more pressing matter of being tied to Lucy for life. Liam said she was desperate, but I thought I’d pissed her off enough to extract myself from the situation. My career was on the line—everything I’d worked for—and now I was just a show pony, arm candy for the princess.
My agitation shot through the roof as I rubbed a hand across the scruff along my jaw and caught a whiff of her scent lingering there even after showering—another reminder that I couldn’t shake her, no matter how hard I tried.
There had to be some way out of this. I just needed time to figure it out, and that would be impossible with Lucy nearby with alarming frequency. She tended to cloud my judgment; my only instinct was to piss her off. Watching the steam pour out from her ears was far too entertaining. We wouldn’t make it out of this courtship alive, let alone an engagement and, eventually, marriage.
A lifetime with Lucy felt like a death sentence.
The clock was counting down on my freedom, and there wasn’t a moment to waste. Pushing my chair away from the table, I abandoned what was left of my breakfast without another word to my brother. I needed to get to work. I wasn’t throwing in the towel just yet, and I couldn’t afford to let my job performance suffer over a potential arranged marriage that may or may not ever result in a walk down the aisle.
Arriving at Stonecrest Palace with my parents, brother, and sister-in-law, we were ushered into the royal family’s private sitting room. My mother, Abigail, and Madeline were bursting with excitement at the prospect of being in-laws withtheroyal family. Marriage to a duke or future duke was the highest social standing within the nobility, but it didn’t compare to royalty. This match was more than my parents could have ever hoped for regarding their second son. I was their spare, but now it seemed as though I was their golden goose. Lucky me.
Unlike the ladies, the men of the family were unphased by a date at the palace. My father, Harold, had grown up as a childhood friend of Prince Adrian, Lucy’s father, while Maxwell and I had been playmates with Leo and Liam, her brothers. We knew the men of the royal family well, and I would be the first to tell you they were human, just like the rest of us.
Social events at the palace were the norm for high-ranking nobility, but merging our family with the Remingtons would set us apart. I’d have much rather remained a part of the crowd. I didn’t want to be up on that stage with the world scrutinizing my every move—that was no way to live. It had been too much for Leo’s wife, causing her to leave the country with their children. Unlike me, she had somewhere to go, being an American. Belleston was my country; I couldn’t walk away from my homeland if the pressure of life in the public eye grew too great.
Trussed up in a formal dinner suit, I couldn’t breathe. While we waited for the royal family to join us for pre-dinner cocktails, I constantly pulled at my collar, trying to loosen it, but nothing helped. It foreshadowed what life with Lucy would feel like—suffocating.
Just when I thought I would pass out from a perceived lack of oxygen, the door to the sitting room opened, and the royal familyentered. Well, most of them, I should say. Lucy was notably absent.
My family members bowed and curtseyed as the King approached, showing respect for our monarch.
King Victor stopped before me, viewing me with an assessing eye, before stating, “I’m pleased we could make this arrangement work. The union between two of Belleston’s longest-standing families will provide a strong future for our country.”
His implication that Lucy and I would be expected to procreate was anything but subtle. I clenched my fists, desperate to tell him where to shove his “arrangement,” when my father subtly elbowed me.
Clearing my throat, I turned on the charm, smiling, before bowing my head slightly. “I am honored to be chosen as Lucy’s suitor.” I hated how easily the words rolled off my tongue after a lifetime of conditioning in the proper social etiquette.
“Very good,” King Victor replied before walking past where I stood and settling into a sizable wing-backed chair, inviting my father and Prince Adrian—who could very well be Liam’s twin, albeit thirty years older—to join him.
It was though I were a child again. The “men” were over there deciding my future while I stood here helpless.
Princess Adelaide, Lucy’s mother, was the picture of grace with her gray hair pulled back into her signature French twist, wearing a long-sleeved navy-blue evening gown. Clasping hands with my mother, they gushed over how excited they were about planning yet another royal wedding—after Liam and Amy’s, of course. Lucy was their only daughter and first royal female born in over two generations, so plans for her nuptials would be like a wedding on steroids. Lucy was sure to be the ultimate bridezilla.
God help me.
Amy and Liam brought up the rear of the line of royals to approach us, and I was grateful to be among friends. Liam, I knew well, and while I only had the pleasure of speaking with Amy once, her charitable works crossed my desk so frequently that it felt as though we were well-acquainted. She’d taken the country by storm when Liam brought her home after eloping—the people loved her. It was easy to see why when she approached Madeline, gushing over her baby bump and launching into a conversation as if they’d been best friends for years, instead of women who met for the first time this evening. Liam was a lucky man.
Insisting that Maddy get off her feet, Amy led her to a richly appointed settee, leaving me standing with Max and Liam. This was how it always was in these types of social settings, with everyone breaking into smaller groups based on rank and gender.
Liam offered us a pre-dinner bourbon, and I gratefully accepted, needing something to take the edge off. Throwing the brown liquor down my throat in a single swig, I grimaced against the burn.
Eyeing me as he took a sip from his own glass, Liam said, “Lucy will be down soon. She had a wardrobe malfunction and needed to change last minute.”
Skeptical, I asked, “Really?”
