her cocktail glass to me. “So cheers, Poppy. You are in exquisite company.”
I turn to her, surprised to see her eyes dancing with mischief as she sips her drink.
“You?” I ask, stunned.
“Oh, she hates most of the world that is not within her control,” Helene exclaims. “Antonia has a specific view of what the monarchy should be. She hasn’t changed that vision in the past twenty years. The world around her is changing, yet she refuses to change with it. That is why it’s so critical that the younger royals—Xander, Christian, and Liz—are stepping forward as working royals. To show the world we can relate to them. And that means choosing people you love rather than auditioning and casting someone for a role.”
“But what about mystique?” I ask quietly. “I don’t have that. I’m as common as one can be.”
“No, you’re not,” Helene says, grasping my hand in hers and squeezing it. I suck in my breath, as that’s the same move Xander uses all the time when we’re talking. It’s like he’s here in this moment, telling me something, as crazy as that sounds.
“You will bring your own mystique if you are with Xander,” she continues, “and you will continue to bring yourself to this family and move the story forward. To keep the pages turning in one very big, complicated, and fascinating tale.”
I don’t say anything as these words sink in.
“Poppy,” Liz says, interrupting my thoughts, “Xander will want you to be there. At both the ceremony and the reception that night.”
“Maybe just the reception,” I say. “If he asks me.”
Victoria snorts. “If? Oh my God, Xander is crazy about you—you will be asked to both.”
“Agreed,” Liz says. “And with that sorted, you will need to be dressed, which brings us back to Amelia and Bella.”
Amelia nods. “Yes! This is brilliant. So, Poppy, you’ll say I have offered to take you shopping as a friend of Liz’s, and Clementine recommended that Jillian accompany you as well, but since you don’t know either of us, you’ll ask her to come with you for support.”
“She won’t say no to that. Bella couldn’t bear to say no to you, even if she didn’t want to go,” Victoria says.
“It’s perfect,” Clementine agrees, grinning.
“And then Jillian and I will find the perfect outfit for Bella,” Amelia says. “We’ll put her in a colour and print that looks fabulous. That shows off her assets. And a dress that will make men drool at the party.”
Panic grips me. Not only for the fact that if I go to this wedding, I’m putting myself right on Queen Antonia’s radar, but what on earth am I going to wear? I can’t afford any of this! A dress for the ceremony and a fascinator? An evening gown? New shoes? New clutch? I will be outed to the media at that point, and they’ll know if I bought something thrifty and off the rack, and that would shame Xander some more.
Oh, Lord, what am I doing? How can I tell these girls I can’t afford any of this? That I don’t live this life they are in?
I begin to roll the wet paper napkin underneath my glass as they continue to talk about what would look good on Bella, my anxiety deepening by the second. Wait. I know what I can do. I’ll try on dresses and then tell everyone I never decide without thinking on it for twenty-four hours. There. That sorts everything out. Tick, done, easy. Move on. Then I’ll explain the situation to Xander and see if he still wants me to attend both or one or none of the events based on what I can afford to wear, knowing I’ll be presenting myself on the world stage. I will leave this decision up to him. I know him. He’ll say it doesn’t matter. But I will make sure he understands what saying yes really means and how I’d prefer to stay away than embarrass him in any way.
There. I solved that one.
I put the gin and tonic down on the coffee table before I drink more and start getting tipsy. I half-listen to the conversation around me, my mind still working on my own royal problems. While this particular one seemed easy to solve, I have a feeling the rest of them won’t be so simple. I only pray I can find a way to deal with them.
Because my future with Xander depends on it.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Just a Smidge Past Tipsy
“Your Royal Highness, His Royal Highness,