“It’s gorgeous! You look like you could be in a magazine.” Jess fluffed the skirt a little more. I stared at her until she finally sighed. “Fine. Let’s try something a little more boring.”
“Good idea.” I stepped off the little platform and gathered up the skirt in my arms. Jess followed close behind so she could help me undo the four thousand little buttons along the back.
“You know, this is a huge moment. Your chance to make a big statement.” Jess looked at me seriously. “You need to go in there, large and proud. Don’t let them treat you like the dirty cousin from America. Show ’em you’re someone to contend with.”
“You make this sound like high school.” I wiggled out of the dress and helped her put it back on the hanger, which promptly bowed in the middle, struggling to support the weight of the dress.
“I’m serious. You need to go in there and let them know you’re Samantha Effing Rousseau. You’re gorgeous, you’re brilliant, and you won’t take any shit.” Jess stood up and looked at me. “They need to know that right away.”
I thought about what she was saying. First impressions were important. If I would dress up to give a speech at a bird convention, there was no reason I shouldn’t dress up for a meeting with the queen. I turned and looked at the next dress on the rack and contemplated it.
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Okay, but we need to make the right statement. No froufrou stuff.” I pushed the hangers aside and met Jess’s eyes in the mirror.
“I know just the dress.” She ran out of the little room and I stood there contemplating what I was doing. I hated that I was making these decisions. I felt like I was doing this blind. And the worst part was there were people standing outside the store with cameras, trying to see what I was buying.
When Jess came back she and held up a dress, I knew she had nailed it on the head. It was simple but elegant. Sexy but discreet: simple cap sleeves with an A-line skirt, the black material shining softly in the dressing room lights. There was a simple black belt that added a little something extra and gave it even more personality. I ran my hands over the gown and almost squealed in delight. There were pockets.
“You’ve been saving this one.” I turned my eyes to Jess and glared at her. “You made me try on those God-awful dresses, knowing full well I would hate them. And this was in the store the whole time!”
“So you like it?” Jess smiled from ear to ear.
“You sneaky bitch! That last dress was torture!” I held my hand out for the hanger and she laughed.
“It worked, didn’t it? I could have brought a trash bag in here and you would have been excited.” Jess helped me pull the dress up and work the hidden zipper.
When I turned around to look in the mirror, I froze. The dress fit perfectly, which was lucky considering there wasn’t time for alterations. Jess did something to my hair, twisting it up off my neck in a messy bun that countered the streamlined look of the dress.
“Understated elegance.” Jess nodded her head like she had designed the dress herself.
“It’s perfect.” I turned so I could see the back of the dress.
“Let’s go show the others.” Jess swung the door open and motioned for me to go out first. I had to pick the skirt up to walk, but with heels it would be perfect. Outside, the curtains had been pulled over the large front windows and Sarah was waiting in a chair, her notebook in her lap. She looked up and a smile pulled at the corners of her mouth.
“Oh, you look lovely.”
I stepped onto the little block in front of the mirror and looked at myself. It was silly, but I suddenly felt royal. I guess that was the magic of a beautiful dress. The shop owner brought over a pair of black high heels in my size. I slipped them on and looked again at the mirror. They were the perfect height. The skirt no longer hung too low, but they weren’t so high I couldn’t walk.
A phone beeped and I looked around to see who it belonged to, but no one moved to answer it. The phone beeped again and I looked at the shop owner, but she shook her head. I stepped down from the pedestal and walked over to my bag. I picked up the new phone and looked at the screen.
“Who has this number?” There were two text messages.
“The duchess and the prince, Jess, and your father.” Sarah looked back through her notebook. “And your security detail.”
651-555-1212: How is the dress shopping going?
I grabbed my other phone and checked to make sure it really was Alex’s number before replying.
ME: I hate it, but I found one.
Alex: Send me a picture.
ME: Nope.
Alex: Then send me a picture without the dress.
ME: Pervert.
Alex: You have no idea.
I laughed and turned the phone off. When I looked up, I realized everyone was staring at me. “What?”
“Who was that?” Jess asked, her eyes amused.
“Alex.” I cleared my throat and turned back to the shop owner. “I’d like to get this one. Do you have anything else made by this designer?”
“As a matter of fact, I do.” The shop owner’s eyes lit up and I realized I hadn’t thought to ask the price. I tried to see the tag under my arm, but there were no numbers—never a good sign. I looked back at the mirror and decided that at this point, it didn’t matter. I was getting the dress.
I tried on several more: a ball gown, a pearly silver sheath with a boat neck, covered in sequins and jewels; a red tea-length dress; and another black dress Jess had insisted on. It was form-fitting with short sleeves and a slit in the collar that went well into my cl**vage. It was daring and beautiful. I couldn’t imagine ever wearing it.
After the dress store, we stopped at a few more boutiques, grabbing a few business suits, jackets, and the normal necessities. It was dark by the time we headed home, but I had one last stop to make.
The car pulled up to the curb at the largest bookstore in town. I ran inside, knowing exactly what I was looking for. An idiot’s guide to Lilaria and a language program to listen to on the plane. I sent Jess to the cash register with my card and waited in the music section with Becca. A few people seemed to recognize me, but thankfully no one said anything. We were back in the car and on the way to my dad’s in no time.
Sarah had left to go over things with Rose, so it was just me and Jess with Dad. And the contingent of bodyguards waiting outside or in the living room. Dad made dinner and we talked about things to do when he came to Lilaria. Patricia was there, refusing to let me help clean up.
I sorted Dad’s medicine for the next week and went over things with Patricia. Dad had been happy and cracking jokes, but I caught him closing his eyes a few times. My heart clenched and tears sprang to my eyes. There was a picture of him and Mom in Hawaii above his chair and I wanted to cry at seeing them so happy. No matter how much he pretended, I could see the toll that cancer was taking on him. When it was time to leave, I could barely bring myself to get out of my chair.
“Hey, is there anything you want to take from here with you? A picture, maybe?” Jess asked. We’d known each long enough that she understood how hard this was for me.
“There’s a picture in my room, on the nightstand. Would you grab it for me?”
“Sure.” Jess left the room, leaving me and Dad alone.
“Stop it.” Dad’s voice drew my attention back to him.
“Stop what?”
“Worrying. You’ve got those little lines between your eyebrows.” He used his thumb to try to smooth them away. “I’m going to be fine. And I’m going to come see you soon.”
“I know. I just feel like I shouldn’t be leaving you right now.” I frowned and looked down at the table.
“You’re giving me something to look forward to.” Dad grabbed my hands. “Do you understand that, Sam? I’m looking forward to going to Lilaria and seeing the land you and your mother came from. I got a travel book today and highlighted some of the stuff I want to do.”
He stood up slowly and shuffled over to the kitchen counter before coming back with a dog-eared book. He handed it to me and I flipped through some of the pages.
“Wow. There’s a waterfall?”
“Yes! And it’s huge. I want to have my picture taken in front of it.” Dad laughed. “And there is a huge lake in the Rousseau holdings. The book says there’s good fishing.”
“I saw that one on the map.” I frowned. I really needed to spend some time on the Internet tonight.
“Yes! And there’s a very popular local dish I want to try. Some kind of fish and potatoes. It looks delicious.”
“Hm.” I closed the book and looked at him. “Promise you’ll be okay.”
He squeezed my hand and smiled. “Promise.”
“Have you talked to Patricia about coming with you?” I needed a subject change.
“Patricia? You think she should come with me?” Dad looked surprised. “I hadn’t thought about it.”
“Why not? She’s not working anymore and I’d pay for everything.” The money was certainly a perk and while I was terrified to spend it, having my family—even my adopted family—with me would be worth it.
“I’ll think about it.” Dad’s eyes turned thoughtful. He and Patricia got along well, and while I knew there was nothing romantic between them, they seemed to complement each other.
“Think about it. She’s retired and her son never calls her. Why not bring her with you? It’s the least I can do for her after all she’s helped us.”
Jess came back into the kitchen carrying the photo frame that held the picture of my family. “Got it! Was there anything else?”
“That’s it for now. I don’t know how much I’m allowed to bring. I’ll just come back for the rest when I can.”
“Ready to go then?”
“Yeah. I still need to pack and do a little research.” I leaned over and wrapped my arms around my dad. “I’ll see you soon.”
“Yes, you will! Make sure there are fish for me to catch.” He kissed my cheek and I caught the shimmer in his eyes.
“I’ll order more if there aren’t.” I kissed his bald head and grabbed my coat. If I stayed much longer I was going to turn into a blubbery mess.
Later that night I sat on my bed with my laptop and stared at my empty room. There were four suitcases crammed with all my stuff, several giant garment bags, and a box with some books I refused to leave behind. I’d had to borrow a suitcase from Bert because I hadn’t been able to fit everything in mine. The furniture would stay since I wouldn’t need it, and Jess promised to take the rest of my stuff to my dad’s next week.
I looked back at the search bar on my computer. I typed in Lilarian Royalty and waited for the results. It didn’t take long before sites popped up. There were articles about the line of succession, scandals, history. I clicked on the one that detailed the line of succession, then clicked on the tab for the queen and smiled at the picture that came up. Alex favored her a great deal. I read the facts quickly. She was a little older than my dad, was an avid outdoorsman, and had three children. That made me pause. In all this time, I hadn’t asked Alex much about himself.
His Royal Highness Alexander Patrick Fitzwilliam, the Duke of D’Lynsal and heir to the crown of Lilaria, was the oldest child at twenty-seven with a younger brother, Maxwell Jameson Trevor, and a sister named Catherine Marie Rose. I clicked on the tab for Alex and read about his schooling, charities, and hobbies. I chuckled at the thought of him fishing and building things. Then again, I remembered his strong hands and decided it made perfect sense. There were several pictures of him alone, professional shots, and some candid pictures of him with his family or working with children.
I went back to the main menu and scrolled through some of the other royals. I stopped on Rousseau in surprise. Surely they wouldn’t have me listed yet.
But they did. Thank goodness there was no picture, but my full name, date of birth, schooling, and honors were listed. There was a short explanation about my upcoming reinstatement, but not a date. I was the twenty-fourth person in line for the crown. I almost shit my pants when I saw that little detail. I sat up straight and barked a laugh. I was in line for the crown. May every soul ahead of me live a long and prosperous life because that was not something I would ever want.
Below my information was a beautiful black-and-white picture of my mother with her birth and death dates. I ran my fingers over the screen and wondered where they had found the image. She was smiling at the camera, her head angled as if amused by something. Her biography and a list of her publications were listed below the picture. It was a small thing, but I was glad they had included her on the list.
I left that page and looked back through the other names. I looked through a list of charities the family was involved in and at pictures of state events. Jess deserved something nice for saving me from looking like an idiot in my jeans and boots. Thankfully, from what I could tell, my new clothes would fit in perfectly. The site didn’t really offer too much else for me, so I closed that page and went back through the other search results.
After a while I gave in to my impulses and typed Alex’s name into the search bar. I instantly regretted it. Headlines about a sex scandal popped up, links to stories about women he could be tied to, and speculation about what royal he would eventually marry. There were stories with the words player, model, stud, betrayal, and heartbreak in the titles. Like watching a train wreck, my eyes were drawn to the images icon. Maybe it was a sick impulse to torture myself or the need to make him feel even more unattainable, but I clicked on the link.
There are some things you can never un-see, and images of Alex in bed with another woman were on the top of that list. His bare back with sheets barely covering his h*ps and the look on the woman’s face would forever be etched into my psyche. There were pictures of the woman taking off her clothes while he watched from the bed. Pictures of her sitting on top of him that had to be from another day because she was wearing a different bra. It made me insanely jealous—angry enough to push my computer away and get up and pace around the room. I counted to ten. And then to twenty. I closed my eyes and scrubbed at my lids with the palms of my hands. I needed to calm down and think about this rationally. I knew he was a flirt and of course he had been with other women. It wasn’t like I hadn’t slept with guys before. Alex and I hadn’t shared anything but a couple of kisses. And yet… and yet, it still bothered me. After a few minutes I grabbed the computer off the bed and started to close all the windows, but a headline grabbed my attention.