The Royal Wedding: A Crown Jewels Romantic Comedy, Book 2 Read online

  “How are the obituaries coming?” Hazel glides past my desk as she makes her way back to her office from the break room.

  “Fine. As long as no one else dies today, we’ll be all set for tomorrow’s issue.” I laugh a little at my tasteless joke.

  It’s nearly eight o’clock on Friday evening, and Hazel and I are the only ones still in the office. I watch through the glass window as Hazel settles herself behind her desk. I really need to tell her I’m going to have to quit. She deserves to know. I’ll tell her on my way out this evening. I busy myself finishing the last of the spell-checking on the Osborne family’s announcement. They’ve welcomed new baby Destynie Maddisynne, who is destined to spend her entire life pronouncing and spelling her name out for people. Good luck with that, kiddo.

  A few minutes later I shut down my computer, pack up my things, and knock on Hazel’s open door. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

  “Sure, come on in.” She leans back in her chair and smiles at me.

  “I need to tell you something.”

  “You’re quitting?”

  “How did you know?”

  “The writing’s been on the wall since you got engaged.”

  “I suppose it has.” I fiddle with my ring, trying to push aside the yucky feeling in my stomach. “I wanted to give you plenty of time to replace me. I was thinking maybe I’d stay on until early spring, if that’s okay.”

  “Of course it is. Stay on as long as you can. You’ll be missed around here, you know.”

  “Thank you. I’ll miss coming into work here but I’ll be doing a lot of charity work, so that will feel good as well.”

  “I’m sure it will.” She gives me a small nod, then smiles. “You remind me of me when I was your age. Young, ambitious, the whole world at your feet. And, like you, I fell in love with a powerful man with whom I had little in common.”

  Oh, dear, I don’t like where this is going. “Arthur and I have a surprising amount in common actually.”

  Hazel nods and makes a little hmph sound. “I’m sure you do; I was just talking about the very different upbringings. It was the same with my husband and me. And, like you, we also got married very quickly. We were going to have the perfect, carefree marriage. Travel the world together, see everything, do everything, lazy Sundays in bed.”

  She smiles wistfully for a second. “He was offered a job in Paris, and we jumped at the chance even though it meant I had to give up my career. So, instead of reporting the news, I spent my mornings reading it while sitting at little cafés sipping coffee. I didn’t have to worry about money for the first time in my life—no stress, only freedom. I took some cooking classes, and for a while everything was wonderful. He liked coming home to a hot meal and a wife who was starved for company because I hung on his every word.”

  “Well, I won’t be cooking at least,” I say with a little laugh.

  She continues as though I haven’t said anything. “It didn’t take long before I was completely dependent on him. I was learning French but I’d never been good at it, even in school. I had difficulty making friends because of the language barrier, and soon I had very few interests outside of my husband, which is not a healthy way for anyone with a brain to live.

  “In the end, I could hardly stand myself—the endless talk of which colour curtains I should put up in the bedroom or what the spinach looked like at the market that day. I begged him to move back to Canada so I could work again, but he didn’t want to give up his new life. He suggested a baby and I considered it. I wanted it to be the answer, but in the end I said no. He found a woman from his office who didn’t mind giving herself up for him. They have four kids and six grandkids.”

  “I’m sorry. That sounds like it was very hard,” I say.

  “I’m over it.” Hazel shrugs. “The thing is, when I see you and what you’re about to do, it worries me because twenty years later the world hasn’t changed one bit even though we women like to think it has. Women still have to give up so much for love, and once the passion is gone all those things that made you different and drew you together at the beginning, end up pulling you apart.”

  “I’m not going to lose myself, Hazel. I know who I am.”

  “Do you? Because I can’t see any way a woman wouldn’t get completely lost in her husband’s world, if her husband is someone in Arthur’s position.”

  I shake my head. “With all due respect, you don’t know Arthur, and you don’t know what we’re like together. We need each other. We make each other better people and that’s not going to change after were married.” I stare at her, feeling very annoyed by her assumption that I’m going to end up exactly like her. “I know that you’re going to think I’m naive, but Arthur fell in love with me because of who I am, because of the drive that I have to succeed and to keep him on his toes.”

  “Open your eyes, Tessa. If you marry him, something will have to give, and I have the feeling that it will be you.”

  “I should get going.”

  “Sure.” Hazel nods. “I didn’t mean to upset you, Tessa. I’m just trying to help. I like you very much and I think you have a lot of potential. I’d hate to see you exchange it for a sparkly tiara.”

  Ten

  “Come here,” said the spider to the fly…

  Arthur

  Text from me to Tessa: What are you doing this afternoon/evening?

  Tessa: I’ll be at work until well after midnight. We go to press tonight and we need to report on the ice storm. Why? What’s up?

  Me: Damn. The cross-country skiing nationals had to be postponed so I find myself with twelve hours of free time. I thought maybe you could come over so I could keep you warm.

  Tessa: Now I wish I hadn’t asked. I’ll be even more grumpy for the rest of the day knowing what I’m missing out on.

  Me: Even more grumpy? What’s wrong.

  Tessa: I’ve had a big lecture from Hazel about the perils of marrying someone of a different class.

  Me: Oh, Christ. What does she know?

  Tessa: She did it and her husband fell out of love with her after the passion wore off.

  Me: Well, that’s because she started wearing floor-length sweater vests. Any man would struggle to maintain wood with that walking around all day.

  Tessa: You’re awful.

  Me: Not awful. Just honest. Wait, how will you get home in this storm? The police are about to announce that they’re shutting down the main roads.

  Tessa: I’m walking to Nikki’s. She’s about two blocks from here.

  Me: Will there be naked tickle fights?

  Tessa: Umm, no.

  Me: You sure? Because even if there’s even a thirty percent chance, I’ll strap on some skates and make my way over to her flat.

  Tessa: Eye-rolling.

  Me: And blushing, I’m sure. Don’t worry about Hazel’s cautionary tale. She doesn’t know us. We’re going to be amazing together.

  Tessa: I know. It’s just a little disheartening to know the rest of the kingdom can’t see it.

  Me: They’ll get the idea in about thirty years or so.

  Tessa: That soon?

  Me: Sooner if you come over right now…

  I wait for two full minutes but no answer comes, so I get up from my desk and make my way back to my apartment, strolling through the quiet halls of the palace, having sent the staff home hours ago so that they wouldn’t have to brave the icy roads during rush hour. Dexter, who has been sleeping on a large dog bed in my office, follows me down the hall. “Well, Dex, looks like it’s just you and me tonight…and Chester, the fish, of course. Between you and me, he’s not the best company. A little standoffish for the most part, but don’t tell Tessa I said that.”

  We watch Frozen Planet, one of Dexter’s favourite David Attenborough documentaries, until he falls asleep on the couch. I wander around my apartment, feed Chester a few flakes of his fish food even though Tessa has left strict instructions not to feed him more than once a day.

  But, come
on. How’s the little guy supposed to survive on such a small amount of food? I stare out the window. The freezing rain has given way to snow, which is now blanketing the meadow as it drifts and flutters from the sky.

  Fuck, I’m bored.

  Completely and utterly bored after only one-hundred-eight minutes of unscheduled time to myself. I set off down the hall in search of my grandmother, to see if she might be free for dinner. I knock and wait for a few seconds before the door is opened by none other than my old schoolmate and the woman everyone assumed I would one day marry, Lady Dr. Brooke Beddingfield. “Arthur,” she says, kissing me on both cheeks, “I was hoping I’d catch you today.”

  “Brooke, what are you doing here? I thought you were still in Zamunda.”

  “I got homesick and decided to come home early for Christmas.” She steps aside and I enter my grandmother’s apartment, only to see her pulling on her cardigan.

  “Everything okay, Gran?”

  “Yes, dear. I’m just fine. Brooke, here, was just saving me a call to Dr. Griffin.” There’s something about the way she says it that sets off alarm bells in my head.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, I’m quite healthy—aren’t I, Brooke, dear?”

  Brooke smiles. “The Princess Dowager is in remarkable shape for someone over eighty.”

  “Well, thank you for checking on her.” I stare at my grandmother for a moment, then decide not to push the subject any further. Just because she’s nearing ninety doesn’t mean I get to start treating her like a child. “Gran, the storm has given me a rare evening off so I thought I would see if my favourite lady might be available to share a meal with me.”

  Grandmother rolls her eyes at me. “Liar. Your favourite lady must have turned you down for this evening.”

  “Well, yes, she has to work late, but that doesn’t make my invitation any less sincere.”

  “Sure it does, but it doesn’t matter anyway because I’m busy,” Gran says. “I have a monthly poker game with some of the men who work in the garage. See if I can earn back some of the money we pay them.”

  She winks at Brooke, whose mouth drops open in shock. “Relax, Brooke—I’m only joking. I’ll let them leave with most of their money.”

  “But I sent everyone one home.”

  “Don’t worry, El Cheapo. They’re off the clock,” Gran quips.

  “I’m not cheap. I’m merely concerned for their safety.”

  “They’re staying overnight in the staff quarters.”

  “Ah, I see,” I say. “In that case, have fun. But not too much fun.”

  Gran waves off my comment, looking more than ready for me to stop hovering around like a helicopter grandson.

  “If you’re in need of a dinner companion, I find myself free this evening.” Brooke smiles up at me and tosses her red hair over her shoulder. “Unless, of course, Tessa would mind us sharing a meal together. I wouldn’t want to do anything to make her feel uncomfortable.”

  “Why would she mind me eating with an old friend? I assure you she’s far too secure than to let something like that bother her.” Hmm, then why am I getting an unsettled feeling in the pit of my stomach?

  Brook grins. “Glad to hear it because, with your position and popularity, she’ll have to get used to sharing you with the world.”

  “Won’t be a problem, not for a woman like her,” I say with a firm nod. There, that’s better. As long as I talk about Tessa the entire time, this whole dinner will be completely above board. “Oh, I’m afraid you’ll have to put up with my signature scrambled eggs.”

  “You mean you still haven’t progressed past your first Gordon Ramsay lesson?” She laughs, closing her doctor’s kit.

  “He never came back, for some unknown reason.”

  “It’s because you’re a very slow learner, dear,” says Gran. “And he knew he would end up calling you a donkey if he came back.”

  Brooke laughs and gives my gran a quick kiss on the cheek. “You’re always such a delight, Princess Florence.”

  She crosses the room and hooks her arm into mine, an old habit of hers that I’ve always found a little bit awkward.

  “Well, good luck tonight, Gran. Try not to clean them out completely. It’s almost Christmas, after all.”

  “It would be quite rude of me to let them win. It’s not a charity event. Now, out you go so I can have my quick pregame nap.”

  Brooke and I walk down the long hall, and then take the lift to the main floor where the private kitchen is. The entire time, she chats about how much she misses everyone in Avonia and how different her life is now that she works for the Doctors of the World Foundation. She has dedicated her life to serving others, and spends most of her days inoculating babies and young children, and dealing with myriad health emergencies of those who can find their way to the clinic. I listen as I pull all the ingredients out of the fridge and start grating some cheese.

  Brooke washes her hands and finds a knife and cutting board and begins to chop up some tomato while she talks. I try to focus on what she’s saying, but part of me is troubled by Tessa’s boss trying to talk her out of marrying me.

  “Arthur? Arthur. Where is your mind this evening?”

  “What? Sorry, Brooke. I’m afraid I’m just a little bit distracted.”

  “What’s on your mind?” Brooke pulls a bottle of white wine out of the fridge and holds it up to me.

  “Good idea. That will go nicely with the eggs.” I open the drawer in which we keep the bottle opener then slide it across the marble counter to her. She catches it deftly with one hand and makes quick work of the cork while I take two glasses down from the cupboard.

  Once it’s been poured, she holds her glass up to mine. “To old friends.”

  “To old friends.” I nod and we both take a sip.

  She sucks back half the glass, then says, “Let’s be really naughty.”

  Oh, bugger. I was afraid of this. “Pardon me?”

  She gives me a sly smile. “Let’s have toast with the eggs instead of salad.”

  I laugh, relieved that she didn’t just suggest we eat in the nude while she cups my crown jewels. “There’s some bread in the bin over there.”

  “This feels like old times, doesn’t it?”

  “I don’t recall us cooking together before.” I take my phone out of my pocket to check for messages, and see Tessa hasn’t texted.

  “Chemistry lab, remember? Or have you already forgotten first-year English Lit at Oxford?” She laughs, touching my forearm.

  “No, of course not. Professor Fumbledore…”

  “With the long beard and round glasses…”

  “Who never managed a sip of coffee without spilling on himself,” I add.

  Brooke laughs like I’ve just said the wittiest remark she’s ever heard while I turn my attention to the stove.

  She gets to work, humming a little before saying, “So, are you going to tell me or do I have to guess?”

  “Guess what?”

  “What’s on your mind.”

  “Oh, that. It’s nothing. Just…work.”

  Brooke raises one eyebrow. “No, it’s not. You’re forgetting who you’re talking to. I know all your secrets. Well, I used to, anyway.” She smiles sadly and has another sip of her drink.

  “Yes, I suppose you did.”

  “And have I ever told anyone any of them?”

  “I assume not.”

  She glares for a moment, letting me know she doesn’t appreciate my little quip.

  “Fine, no. You’ve always been a very loyal friend.” I turn and fire up the gas burner, then add some olive oil to the pan.

  “And I always will be, no matter what. So you can tell me anything, Arthur. In fact, it might make you feel better.”

  “I’m fine, really. Very happy, in fact.”

  “Oh, come now. You have barely cracked a smile since I got here. You can’t be that happy.”

  “It’s nothing. Really. I’m just feeling a bit sorry for
myself because I hardly ever see my fiancée.”

  The toaster pops and Brooke sets to work buttering the bread. “I hope one of my dearest friends isn’t being neglected by the love of his life.”

  “No, it’s nothing like that. It’s not like she’s off gallivanting around the world with her friends or something.”

  “But she’s not here either, is she?”

  “No, she’s not.” I adjust the heat on the burner. “Tonight, she’ll be at the office until the wee hours of the morning to help put out a rather thin publication that will be read by a handful of people before it’s used to line birdcages.”

  Brooke laughs, the sound of it reminding me of a witch’s cackle.

  “Please forget I said that. It was very unkind of me. I only said it because it seems pointless for her to be working such long hours when she’s going to quit shortly before the wedding.” I stir the eggs, my chest tightening with guilt.

  “I was wondering when she’d leave her job.”

  “We decided it was best to wait.”

  “Whatever for? I’d think she’d be absolutely snowed under getting ready for the wedding and her new life.”

  “She is, but Tessa was worried she’ll look like a gold-digger if she leaves her job now.”

  A strange look crosses Brooke’s face, but she covers it with a smile. “That makes sense. I’m sure many would think that.”

  “Anyway, none of it matters in the end. This is all temporary and, besides, Tessa and I are very much in love. Whatever comes our way, we’ll manage to get through it together.”

  “I’ve never seen you backpedal so fast. It’s only human to air your feelings about your significant other from time to time. In fact, it’s not healthy for your relationship to keep everything bottled up inside.”

  “Is that your professional medical opinion?”

  Brooks smiles and curls her hair around one finger. “Yes, it took me seven years of higher education to discover that little tidbit of wisdom. As a doctor who has your bests interests at heart, I’m telling you, you need to talk.”