wouldn’t trade you for anything in the world. So, we won’t be taking tea and gossiping over a slice of Battenberg cake. Family dinners might be full of drama. I might have to fight the press tomorrow when I go to work. But when I sit here with you, holding your hand in mine, I do not doubt what I’m doing here. And that’s because of you.”
He lowers his head towards mine until our foreheads touch. “Sometimes, I think you are utterly mad for loving me this much.”
“I am. You never pick up your socks. Now, that’s a way greater negative than your family. But I still love you despite that fatal flaw.”
He chuckles, and his breath is warm against my skin. “Well, there’s that.”
“And you’re a terrible kisser,” I continue.
He lifts his head and raises his eyebrows. “Funny, this is the first time you’ve lodged this particular complaint.”
“Well, I know you’ll get better with practice. So we could practice now, you know. So I don’t change my mind about you.”
“And where do you suggest we practice? The desk? You seemed to enjoy that the last time I kissed you there.”
I swear, I’m blushing to the roots of my hair, and Xander laughs wickedly. And when that deep, rich sound rumbles around me, my heart is lifted with happiness.
I frame his face in my hands and draw him back to me. “I would like for you practice right here. Before you practice putting away your socks.”
He laughs. I grin.
And as I kiss him, I know I can do anything, survive anything for the love of this man.
Including tea with his mother.
* * *
I secure the last pin in my hair and take a breath. There. I’m as ready as I will ever be to meet Queen Antonia.
Normally, the idea of me, Poppy Davies, serving tea to the Queen of the United Kingdom, would cause me to flail around in excitement. To have the honour of serving one of the most iconic figures in the world would make me dizzy with both disbelief and happiness.
But I don’t view it that way anymore.
I know how much she has hurt Xander. Christian. Clementine. Liz. Roman. I don’t care what title she holds. I now see her as someone who has caused pain and humiliation to people I care about.
She hasn’t even met me, yet she planted an article aimed to destroy me. Queen Antonia wanted to embarrass me. My family. Xander.
All with the goal of getting me out of her son’s life. To eliminate me before I could, in her eyes, drag the entire monarchy into the gutter of normality.
It’s not an honour to serve someone who treats others like this. I see her beyond the image she projects to the world, beyond the celebrity and polished veneer. Yes, she is my queen. But more importantly, she is the mother of the man I love. I will curtsy to her and address her using her title. I will not be nasty or ugly.
I slip in one of my earrings. But I will be direct. I will not mince my words. I’ll make it clear that her days of bullying women is over.
And with Helene’s ultimate card to play in my back pocket, I know I can do it.
I slip in the other earring and then smooth my hands over my yellow dress. I feel a sense of gratitude as my fingertips sweep over the fine wool crepe, as Helene was my fairy godmother for this tea. She had Amelia go out and get me a dress and shoes while I was at work, and then Amelia made minor alterations to it after I tried it on. The result is a dress that is perfectly me. The knee-length dress has three-quarter sleeves and a beautiful, almost ‘50s-style silhouette. It’s classic, but fresh because of the bright pop of sunshine yellow.
I’m giving a nod to the royal dress by choosing a classic cut but making it mine with the choice of colour. I’m also making a statement by choosing to pull my hair back in a low, messy bun rather than a chignon with every hair perfectly in place like Queen Antonia wears. I’ll never be Queen Antonia. If I end up marrying Xander, I will approach the role with the respect it deserves, taking my duties seriously, and serving the people of the Commonwealth.
But I will do it my way, down to the way I choose to dress.