purchases.
Her evening gown … Oh, I think we’re going to have to hide all the cardigans in sight to make sure she doesn’t try to cover herself up. The dress is a real coming out look for her—a long, silk, sleeveless maxi dress in a pale pink that dips into a daring V. The dress has illusion panels on the side and chest, but oh, it’s a showstopper for her hourglass body. I still can’t believe we managed to talk her into it.
“Do we tackle hats next?” Amelia asks.
“Whatever Bella wants to do,” I say, dropping my voice. “This is her day.”
“I think it’s your day, too,” Amelia replies, winking at me.
I blush happily. “Thank you, both of you,” I say, turning to Jillian, “for all of your help today.”
“Please, I live for this stuff,” Amelia tells me. “Anytime you need help with an outfit, I’m happy to be your stylist.”
“I will be taking you up on that.” I turn to Jillian. “As I know you will have your hands full with the future duchess,” I say, referring to Clementine.
Jillian beams, as she does whenever Clementine is mentioned.
“You should see her diary after the honeymoon,” she says. “Clementine will hit the ground running in her new role in the monarchy.”
Of course, she will. As Christian is in line behind Xander, Clementine needs to take on the full-time royal role.
As the public will expect me to if I were to marry Xander one day.
No. I’m not going to worry about this. Even if Xander told me he loved me today, we would not be rushing towards the altar.
And, since he hasn’t told me he loves me, this is stupid to worry about. Not when I’m having such a wonderful day with new friends.
“Okay,” Bella says, approaching us. “I’m ready for a hat.”
“Let’s do it,” Amelia says, grinning broadly.
We step out of the boutique, and we’re instantly ambushed by a photographer on the path, his camera blinding us with rapid flashes.
Bella freezes next to me, and Jillian quickly moves in front of her, walking stiffly.
“It’s fine,” I whisper to her. “We’ll be in the car before you know it.”
“Poppy, this way!” he shouts. “Give me a smile, Poppy!”
I freeze. My mouth drops open in shock.
Poppy? What? How does he even know my name, let alone who I am?
“Is it true you are in love with Xander the Philanderer?” he shouts at me as he continues to take pictures. “Has he reformed for you? He didn’t for India, you know.”
My heart crashes into my stomach. I can’t breathe. Panic consumes me. He’s locked in on me now, adjusting his lens, calling out things to me to get a reaction. Because he doesn’t want Bella’s picture.
He wants mine.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
It Was All a Fairy Tale
The air has been sucked from my body. My mind is whirling. Someone knows about us. Someone has leaked it to the press. I begin to shake as the flashes from the camera continue to go off in my face.
“What’s happening?” I ask.
“Your affair with the prince is no longer a tidy little secret,” the photographer sneers. “Rendezvous at Kensington Palace where you didn’t leave until the next morning. If you left at all. So is he good, Poppy? His Royal Highness has quite a reputation for being a good shag. Of course, he has a reputation for being a playboy, so I guess you have to figure that in. Pain with pleasure, you know.”
The blood drains from my face. I throw my handbag up in front of it to shield myself from his lens. From his disgusting comments.
His pictures will be online in a matter of hours.
Along with his words.
Panic grips my heart with a force I have never experienced in my life.
My world is about to change, but not on my terms.
And my life, as I know it, is over.
“Come along. We have things to do, ladies. And engaging this vile piece of scum is not one of them,” Jillian says smoothly, as if this photographer is an expected part of our day.
Bella links her arm through mine, her hand squeezing mine firmly as a show of support and comfort.
“Shopping with the royals, though … The Philanderer must like you a lot,” he shouts as we near him. “Are you in love with him?”
I don’t answer. I’m shaking. Cold.
Devastated.
The flashes are now right in my face, as we have to cross him to get to Amelia’s car. Jillian leads us with purpose, her head held high and staring straight