for fear of not being Liz or Victoria.”
I see her beautiful blue eyes glisten with unshed tears. “It’s hard.”
“I can’t even imagine,” I say, standing up. “But your voice is just as powerful as your sisters’ voices. You have such a sweet soul and a helpful nature. You’re beautiful on the inside, just as you are on the outside.”
She leans over and plucks a tissue off the table next to the chair. “Thank you. It means a lot to me to hear your thoughts. As someone who isn’t part of my family, you know.”
I nod. “I know.”
“Bella, I have a dress!” Amelia calls out joyfully. “You have to see what Jillian and I found for you. You are going to die; it’s so damn perfect.”
Bella squares her shoulders. I can tell she’s trying to be brave. She draws a breath of air and opens the dressing room door.
“Oh, you’re both in here,” Amelia says, smiling brightly. “Good. I can show both of you.”
“Where’s Jillian?” I ask, noticing her absence.
“She’s with Maeve pulling dresses for you. But I have this,” she says, dramatically hanging a dress on a hook, “for you to try on, Bella.”
I study the dress. Oh, wow, it’s magnificent. A gorgeous green silk dress embroidered with flowers in vibrant shades of red and purple.
“Bella, that is stunning,” I say, reaching out and touching the exquisite fabric, which is so smooth, it practically caresses my fingertips. The dress is short-sleeved, with a mesh covering on the top, over a sweetheart silhouette.
“This is an A-line, knee-length skater dress,” Amelia says. “It’s fitted at the hips, but widens at the hem, making the A-shape.”
Bella draws her lower lip in-between her teeth. “But … but won’t that make my hips look bigger?”
“Not in the slightest,” Amelia says, her green eyes shining happily. “It draws the eyes up, to your bustline, and minimises the midsection area, as well as the hips and thighs.”
A blush colours Bella’s pale skin. “My boobs always attract attention. I … I don’t know if we should emphasise that.”
Amelia cocks her head to the side. “How can your breasts draw attention when you’re always hiding them?”
Bella blinks. I smile. I see she’s going to deal with two direct women today, between Amelia and me.
“I think it’s ridiculous that women are made to feel as if they have to cover them up if they are past a certain size, “Amelia continues. “Breasts are beautiful. You should be empowered to show them off in clothing, whether you are an A-cup or H-cup.”
“You really think I should try this on?” Bella asks, her voice timid.
“Yes!” Amelia says excitedly. “Now, go on. I’ll help you zip it once you have it on.”
Then she pushes me out the door and shuts it behind her. Amelia looks at me with triumph in her eyes, and I smile back.
“Poppy, I have found some lovely things for you to try on,” Jillian says, whisking into the dressing room with multiple dresses on her arm. Maeve is following her with a few more.
My eyes widen. I see a range of colours, from pink with florals to yellow—and then I see it.
A red dress.
Just like the vision I had when I stood outside Westminster Abbey.
“There’s a red dress,” I say slowly, zeroing in on it.
Maeve nods. “That is Jillian’s pick,” she says.
“I know what you are thinking,” Jillian says, as she hangs more dresses up in my room. “That red shouldn’t be worn to a wedding. Well, I think that’s rubbish, and I’ll tell you why. Unless it’s a wedding where the bride is going to wear red, there is no reason why red can’t be worn. That’s an outdated rule that red distracts from the bride. Nobody outshines the bride on her day. I thought red would look smashing on you with your colouring, so I picked this one.”
Jillian hangs the red-and-white floral dress up on a hook in front of me. The fabric is an ornately embroidered tulle, and the dress is a midi-length with short sleeves, yet with a high neckline. I take in an eager breath as I look at it.
“This is gorgeous,” Jillian says, nodding in approval at her pick. “It’s delicate and romantic, yet the colour adds a dash of bold. It’s modern.”
Modern, I think, locking in on that word. This dress represents my introduction to the world as a different type of woman to date a prince.
“I would love to try that one,” I say, grinning.
“I was hoping you would,” Jillian replies,