by Ellie Hall
By halftime, the game was tied one-to-one. Oliver leaned back in his seat, hoping the people he paid off to pose as the two of them were remaining in character and undisturbed by the guards.
Oliver had met one of the team players, Will Wheaton, long ago and contacted him with a request to connect him with some people on the inside. It was a longshot, but he’d managed to make arrangements. It cost him plenty for their discretion, but he hoped they enjoyed posing as the prince and Penelope while watching the match.
But the energy of the crowd hushed thoughts and Penelope’s smile squashed his doubts.
“This is wonderful,” she said, giving him a side hug when their team scored again.
He felt her touch as though it had been branded there. Amusement rose to his lips at her obvious glee.
“You win for most creative, what was it Winston said, appointment.”
Oliver leaned a little closer. “I’d like to think of it as a date.”
“A date with a prince?”
He smiled and brought his finger to his lips.
“I’m a lucky girl.”
“No, I’m the one who’s lucky. Even in our short time together, you reminded me that I’m not my family’s wealth, the title, or even my accomplishments. I’m a regular guy and I’d like to spend my life with a regular girl. Well, not regular, exceptional, creative, fun, smart, beautiful. You’re all those things, Penelope.”
“Penny. You should call me Penny.” She let out a long breath.
She was warm beside him and he sensed the feelings of desire pulsing between them.
He leaned closer and the brims of their hats nearly bumped. For that moment, they were anonymous and he reached for her hand. His fingers laced through hers and he felt strong, protective. The connection felt right but he gave her a quick, sidelong glance to check if it was okay, and she gazed straight ahead. Her chin wobbled a bit and he assumed she was as amused as he was about their covert trip to the game—two royals sneaking around. He fought the urge to kiss her then—desperately wanted to breathe her in, to draw her close, and to feel her lips on his, but he knew he was already pushing boundaries and didn’t want to go too far.
When Liverpool scored, they both rose to their feet, cheering, and he felt the charge in his palm from where her hand fit inside his. He didn’t want to let go, not ever.
But it wasn’t his choice to make.
Chapter 13
Penny
Exhilarated from the soccer game and Oliver’s ingenious though risky plan to switch identities, Penny struggled to fall asleep after the game. Her feelings for Oliver were strong and true. She sensed he didn’t plan such elaborate and probably illegal appointments with the other royals-in-waiting. In fact, he’d called it a date. They’d held hands. It meant something.
Yet, she couldn’t shake the feeling that at least part of him remained ambivalent about the arrangement. When they’d met, he’d indicated as much. She got mixed signals: he’d been laughing with Colette, likely questioned her honesty with the Genevieve necklace disaster, and didn’t seem too keen on marrying in the first place. After spending so much time cooped up in the palace and having to follow strict rules of conduct no matter how noble, perhaps he needed to sow his wild oats and live, free, on his terms. Then again, she gave mixed signals as well—trying to distance herself, turn him away, and act like a cookie diva, though that backfired and landed them closer than they’d ever been on top of the stacks of flour. She banished the thrilling tingles that rushed from her fingers all the way to her toes at the memory of lying so close when he fed her a bite of cookie and all the other sweet moments they’d shared.
She couldn’t let herself hope. Maybe Genevieve was out of the running, but Odelia and Colette were much worthier candidates. In fact, they were actually of royal blood. The shadow of her guilt caused her to doubt. But she couldn’t shake the swirling thoughts and increasingly intense feelings about Oliver that tied themselves into knots, getting tighter and tighter until she finally fell asleep.
The next day, the charge of the crowd and electricity that surged inside of her anytime Oliver’s eyes landed on her remained when she woke up to Addie opening the curtains.
“Good morning,” Penny grumbled as reality caught up with fantasy.
It was a good morning but it also wasn’t. It was the day of the ball. The role she’d been playing was sure to come to an end. She had to find time to tell the queen who she really was, beg not to be thrown in jail, and then make her escape.
If only she and Oliver had been able to run away after the game—magically teleport themselves to the island where Emma’s boyfriend Will had a private little hideaway. But nothing more could happen between them because she was not who she said she was. Her guilt was hungry and gobbled up all her good thoughts. Why would Oliver like her anyway, a common girl? He couldn't because he had to marry royalty.
“We need to get moving, Miss,” Addie said. “Lots to do today to prepare for the ball.”
First, Penny had tea and a scone. Even though the master baker was ill, whoever subbed for him was a baking genius.
Maybe she could have her cake and eat it too—or rather, scone. Baking and boys. One boy. Oliver. Maybe someday. The scone was perfectly soft and flaky, buttery, and salty, and all around delicious. It should have been her learning the ropes in the kitchen below, an apprentice to the nuances that elevated something tasty to something delicious.
If Isabel’s gowns were masterpieces, Penny wanted her baked goods to be works of art. Since she was posing as Princess Penelope when she met Mrs. Newman with Oliver, the woman would recognize if she showed up as Penny the apprentice.
Although, she could take a page from Oliver’s book and come up with a disguise. She could dye her hair, wear faux glasses, and get a spray tan. Anything to change her appearance enough to bake undetected. She’d still be close to Oliver and could find comfort in knowing he’d be eating the things she made, like the cookies he couldn’t get enough of. Perhaps, if things went well, she could bake at the castle in Concordia. But she knew it was near impossible and likely asking for more trouble.
She threw herself back on the pillows. She’d probably be arrested, tried, and hung—did they still do that? She impersonated a royal. In any event, it wasn’t going to turn out well.
“Miss, are you okay?” Addie asked as she straightened a few items on the dressing table.
Penny didn’t answer. But someone knocked on the door. Addie greeted what turned out to be a team of stylists to get Penny ballroom ready.
The first order of business was a massage, which she was all too happy to receive for three reasons. One, she’d never had one before. Two, all she wanted to do was fall back asleep and it nearly worked. Three, the muscles in her back and neck were so tense they were sore.
Afterward, a woman with luminous skin gave her a rosewater facial.
“What’s your skin secret?” Penny asked as she applied more lotions and potions to her face.
“Water. Hydration is key and not giving up on my dreams.”
Penny smiled.
“Relax your mouth,” the esthetician said. “And you should definitely use this toner am and pm, okay?” she said, shaking the bottle.
Penny caught her reflection in the mirror, her skin glowed but her eyes were still dull and carried the weight of her deception. What were her dreams? To bake in the royal palace. She’d nearly made it but then threw it away because she didn’t speak up with the truth when she’d had the opportunity. When she first met the queen in the sewing room, she could’ve corrected her right then and there. But before that, her dream had been to be a princess.
After a light lunch, she hardly had an appetite anyway, the hair and makeup stylists took over. The makeup artist plucked her brows then concealed the dark circles under her eyes. He dusted her face with powder and swept golden eyeshadow on her lids. Ironically, the name of the shade was royalty. He somehow managed to tease her lashes to voluminous lengths.
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“Now, for the lips?” he asked. “Your eye makeup is understated, at least compared to the gown. We could go bold to draw the prince’s eyes or keep it simple and let the dress be the star. What do you think?”
“Simple. Understated,” she replied. She hadn’t been able to leave the Langdon Suite all day, how was she going to get the queen aside and come clean before the ball? But when she did, she didn’t need old lipstick calling additional attention to the confession spilling from her lips.
He swept a pale rose shade on her lips and said, “Gorgeous! Now, hair and you’ll be ready to get in that dress.”
The hairstylist curled her hair into long, loose waves that fell over her shoulders. The gown had thin, nearly invisible straps and she thought the style complimented it nicely.
When they helped Penny into it, they all oohed and ahhed, exclaiming how beautiful she looked.
Addie hopped onto her toes. “Wait, the finishing touches.” She rushed to the closet and returned with the gold, knotted necklace that belonged to Penelope’s mother and a pair of diamond stud earrings that sparkled in the light.
They insisted she stand on the low platform and admire herself in the mirror. There was a tiny, loose string on the waistline of the dress and she twirled it around her finger. She knew the swirly feeling of excitement and anticipation of something wonderful. But what swirled around inside her was more like dread.
“It’s normal to feel nervous wearing a dress like that. It’s fancy, expensive and…” the hair stylist said. “It’s not like you’re going to the ball with a prince. Oh, wait. You are.”
Everyone laughed.
She knew she was a phony, a fake, a person pretending to be a princess. Her reflection captured how terrible she felt.
“Remember, don’t give up on your dreams. If you want to be a queen, be the best queen-to-be anyone in that room has ever seen.”
Penny shook her head.
“The best accessory is believing in yourself,” the makeup artist said.
“Walk in there and wow them.” The hairstylist smoothed a wavy strand that had escaped from the rest.
Penny closed her eyes for a moment, imagining if it were real and what her life would be like if only she’d been born royal.
“It’s time,” Addie said, signaling Penny had to meet the others downstairs.
With her gaze lowered and her gown swishing, she passed through the now familiar hall, glided down the grand staircase as if she were floating, buoyed by her girlhood, fairytale dream of her someday life with the prince because she knew everything would soon turn into a nightmare.
When she lifted her eyes, Oliver stood in a semi-circle with several other important royals. She kept her gaze focused on him because she feared it would be the last time. His eyes swept her. They shone nearly as bright as his smile.
As she passed, he said, “For some reason, I feared you wouldn’t have shown up. Now that my sister’s back, my partner in crime, I worried she’d told you about the secret escape exits.”
Penny’s breath was shallow because he had no idea how close to the truth he was.
“I’m grateful you did because you look gorgeous.”
Odelia and Colette waited, both looking lovely in their dresses. Odelia’s was dark purple and had a sweetheart neckline. Colette wore pink and stood smiling next to a tall man with a trim beard.
A bell rang and Genevieve descended the stairs, gazing out at everyone like they were her minions.
“What’s she doing here?” a female voice asked.
Penny peered to her left and a tall woman with dark red hair, fair skin, and an emerald green dress narrowed her eyes. “I thought we kicked her out of the running.”
The queen turned and waved her hand. “I consulted the rules and because we can’t prove anything, she remains.”
The red-headed woman was Oliver’s sister, Ava. She leaned toward the queen’s ear and whispered something.
“Nothing to worry about, dear,” the queen replied in a hushed tone.
The trepidation that accompanied Penny on and off all week came back full force. She was about to lean forward and whisper something into the queen’s other ear when Colette cleared her throat and stepped forward.
“I’d like to thank you all for your kindness and hospitality as well as this unparalleled opportunity. Any girl would be lucky to marry Prince Oliver, but unfortunately, I’m not that girl. Your Majesty, it was my parents' decision for me to become a royal-in-waiting, not mine. As such, I cannot go on pretending I don’t love someone else. My heart belongs to Earl Barnsworth.” She turned to her parents, also in attendance. “I believe in marrying for love. I would be dishonest if I were selected to marry Oliver. I couldn’t live with that. I’m sorry if this is a disappointment to you.” Her chest rose and fell with a breath as she extended her arm to the earl. “Darling.”
He kissed her gloved hand. “Duke, Duchess,” the earl said, addressing Colette’s parents. “May I dance with your daughter this evening?”
They glanced at the queen who gave a subtle nod before agreeing.
Oliver clapped his hands together. “I wish you both all of the happiness in the world and commend you, Colette, for your bravery and honesty. It’s not easy to stand up to the face of hundreds of years of tradition.” Then he mumbled, “If only I had your courage,” at the same time heralds sounded their trumpets.
“It’s time for the presentation,” the queen said.
The herald announced each of the ladies with Penny going third, followed by Colette and the earl, entering hand in hand.
When Penny was fully in the room, she allowed herself to look around. Every woman in attendance wore a gorgeous gown. She’d never seen so much silk, taffeta, lace, sequins, and crystals in one place. The men looked handsome in suits with tails.
The ballroom itself was exquisite with shining parquet floors, high ceilings covered in frescos, and the sparkle of crystal chandeliers dripping from above.
She wasn’t sure where to stand or what to say so she smiled politely and made small talk. Her attention caught on Ava, Oliver’s sister, who threw her head back in laughter.
From what Penny recalled from the height of her schoolgirl crush on the prince, Ava was a force of nature: she rode horses, was the top of her classes, and was known for her whip-smart tongue. When Penny was in seventh grade, one of her friends had an older sister in college and she remembered being terrified of her and would rush from the room anytime she entered. She’d realized later that she was afraid to be judged by the older sibling. Penny feared something similar from Ava. She told herself it was foolish but couldn’t deny the feelings she’d developed for Oliver.
As a server passed with a tray of confections, she reminded herself baking before boys and strengthened her resolve to get the queen alone.
Ava breezily made her rounds with the other ladies before stopping and talking with Genevieve. Their gazes spanned across the room and landed on Penny. She cringed and wished she could disappear under the large skirt of her dress.
When Colette and the earl swept past, she felt inspired by the former royal-in-waiting’s courage. Penny wasn’t a princess and she’d never rode a horse, but she was smart and capable. She wouldn’t let Genevieve or Ava or anyone else intimidate her.
A bell sounded, indicating it was time for the event to truly begin. She took her place in line. Colette and the earl were to one side and Genevieve to the other with Ava on Genevieve’s other side. The princess whispered something in Genevieve’s ear. Despite the personal pep talk, Penny felt like the girl in the lunchroom without anywhere to sit. Except she was among royalty and there wasn’t a table.
As someone announced the prince would select his bride from among the royals-in-waiting after they each danced, she looked out at the many faces. Panic seized her as she imagined terrible scenarios of people calling her out as a fraud.
Instead, those gathered politely clapped, a string band started to play, and Oliver invited
each of the girls to dance. When it was her turn and Oliver extended his hand, her legs shook and her hands trembled.
He gripped her fingers and drew her close. His palm, flat on her back was like an anchor and his smile a sail. He led the dance and they glided like the wind was in their favor. But Penny couldn’t muster a smile.
“You seem worried. If it’s about Genevieve, never fear. Ava has her on a short leash tonight and is making sure she minds her manners. It turns out, during my sister’s travels, she discovered the Duke of Flushington, aka Genevieve’s father, is in hot water with several officials in Monaco for evading debt.”
Penny exhaled a sigh of relief because she no longer had to keep that secret but she had bigger concerns. They were not how wonderful it felt to be in Oliver’s arms as he led her in a waltz. They were not how his smile magnetized her and his eyes mesmerized her. And they were not about how glamorous she felt. Though she did.
“I believe I’ve told you that you’re beautiful but tonight you surpass my wildest fantasy, Penelope.” He gripped her tighter as though longing to close the space between them.
The words balanced on her tongue. I’m not Penelope.
But as the pair glided across the wooden dance floor, she almost felt like she could outrun the truth, follow her dreams, and be whoever she wanted to be. Almost. “There’s something I should tell you, Oliver.”
But the music stopped. He held tight to her hand and said, “Soon. And even sooner, I have something to tell you.”
She was directed into a line with Odelia and Genevieve. Oliver asked the queen to dance and the anticipation in the room was palpable as she whispered something into Oliver’s ear. They’d soon make the announcement.
When the song was over, the queen stood opposite them and Oliver went to her side. The herald sounded his trumpet. “Now, the moment you’ve been waiting for. The queen will announce which royal-in-waiting the prince will ask to be his bride.”
The queen lifted her chin. “Thank you, ladies, for taking part in our age-old tradition. You know this is a great honor no matter who becomes the queen of Concordia. Each of you has exhibited poise, grace, and integrity in your own ways. It’s been a pleasure getting to know you. As the prince’s guardian, it is my duty to help him make a selection that serves both nations and his interests. For this reason, I select Penelope Elsie Hanover Smithe, daughter of Amelia Hanover and my sister.”
