really in love with him, so… maybe that’s why it convinces people.
Blowing out a breath, I drag my gaze away from Lars, trying to focus on literally anything else.
14
Lars
Pippa looks over at me from her seat in the chauffeured limousine, giving an aggravated groan. “Three days! It’s been three days of nonstop royal visits and parading ourselves around to prove that we are really engaged. Does the palace just assume that we have nothing better to do with our time?”
I straighten my tie, sighing as I adjust my seat. “Yes. Traditionally, we are in positions that put us at the palace’s beck and call.”
She scrunches up her face. “I’m so unbelievably done with being a fake royal right now.”
“Oh Ja?” I ask, raising a brow. “Try doing it twenty four hours a day, seven days a week for twenty five years.”
Pippa picks at a bit of lint, flicking it off of her slinky black dress. “I honestly had no idea. No wonder you loved going to boarding school so much.”
One corner of my mouth turns up. “I did love St. Matthew’s. I was all but forgotten while I attended. I don’t know if you remember, but I campaigned to be allowed to remain at school through winter and summer breaks.”
She smiles a little at the memory, tucking a bright copper stand of her hair back. “Of course I remember. You were upset because the school refused. So you invited me home for the winter break as a sort of rebellion.”
I chuckle. “I did. Of course, my mother and father barely noticed. If I hoped to grab their attention by bringing home an orphaned scholarship student, I failed miserably.”
“Ja, sure.” Pippa’s cheeks warm and she looks away. That’s usually her reaction to hearing herself described as either orphaned or disadvantaged.
A muscle in her jaw flexes. She looks out the window, her brow furrowing. “If you’d told me then that I would be here now, faking an engagement with the prince of Denmark, I wouldn’t have believed you.”
My lips twitch. “Same.”
Out my window, I see the familiar-looking gates of the Air Base Karup looming. The whole base is ancient, a repurposed medieval fortress with a load of airplane hangars and landing strips surrounding it. All of it is neatly encircled by enormous iron gates.
“Is that the place we are going to?” Pippa asks, leaning over to look out my window. She’s let her hair down today and the magnificent copper mass looks amazing. One particular curl seems to stand apart from the others; my fingers itch to smooth it down.
I swallow. “Ja. Ja, this is our last stop for the day.”
She straightens, huffing a sigh. “At least you will know the people here.” Her brow wrinkles. “Or does that make it harder? Since, you know… we are lying.”
The limousine driver pulls up to the base’s gates, rolling down the window. I watch him talk to the guard, distracted.
“I hadn’t given it that much thought,” I say, shrugging a shoulder. “We won’t be the starring attraction anyway. There is some sort of show being put on today that a lot of the soldiers have been talking about. It’s like a tame form of burlesque, I think.”
She nods, looking ahead. The limo is waved through the gates and soon we pull up to the fortress. I run my hand over my uniform one final time, preparing myself.
“Ready?” I asks Pippa.
She nods. “After your grandmother’s questioning, I feel like the military will be a breeze.”
I grin as I get out of the car and escort Pippa into the actual building. It’s gloomy inside the formal reception area. As soon as we step inside, a group of high ranking brass marches through, on their way from one area of the building to another. I pull Pippa toward the wall and salute them; one of the generals gives me a stiff nod as they pass.
Pippa cranes her neck to watch them go. “It’s crazy that in the palace this morning, everyone was bowing and scraping and calling you royal highness. Yet here, that doesn’t seem to matter at all.”
I nod to the receptionist and pull Pippa along, resting her hand on my inner elbow. “The RAF runs on their own rules. Everything here is decided by rank and merit.”
Pippa smirks a little. “I see. You aren’t seen as a prince here. I can tell by your tone that you like that.”
I nod to another group of lower ranking cadets who stop and salute me. “Yes, I’ve been