The Crown Jewels Boxed Set (A Crown Jewels Romantic Comedy Series)

by Melanie Summers

  She yawns loudly, then says, “All right, I’m glad we got that settled. I think I’m going to go back to bed for a couple of hours.”

  “You do that. Be ready by one-thirty for your escort to the palace.”

  “That sounds delightfully dirty.”

  “Well, it won’t be, but at least there’s the fantasy of it all.”

  “That ought to keep me going for a while.”

  “I hope so. But listen, you’ll have to think of him like a stripper giving a lap dance. He can touch you, but you can’t touch him. Otherwise, you’re going to find yourself kicked out of the Champagne Room.”

  ****

  Text from Lars: Can Nina bring Eugenia this afternoon? I know it says no kids on the invitation, but, she still won’t take a bottle, and she feeds every hour, so Nina can’t really leave the house without her.

  Text from Bram: Can Irene come to the shower? We got back together last week and you know what a fan of the Royal Family she is. Oh, unless Prince Arthur will be there. If that’s the case, I’m telling her ‘no’ whether she could come or not. Her crush on him goes beyond normal. I won’t get into details but let’s just say if I play along, everybody has a good time.

  Text from Rory, Assistant to Baz: Tessa, Baz wants an update on your weight loss progress. You should be down five pounds by now. He wanted me to remind you not to overindulge today at your bridal shower, as every day counts right now. Also, you still haven’t gotten back to me about the elocution and posture lessons. We should have started already.

  ****

  “You look very sophisticated, Tessa dear.” The Princess Dowager smiles up at me and pats my cheek.

  “Thank you.” I stare at myself in the mirror for a moment, a little bit shocked to discover she’s right. I do look sophisticated. And for what I paid for this bloody dress, I damn well better. I’m wearing a light blue Chanel dress with three-quarter-length sleeves. My hair is up in a French twist, and my make-up, for once in my life, could be described as impeccable. The dowager has lent me a string of pearls and matching earrings. “I hardly recognize myself right now.”

  “Yes, well for today that might be a good thing. The crowd you’re about to meet will be hoping for you to fail. Your job is to show them you’re every bit as good as them—which is true, by the way.”

  I turn from the mirror and beam at her, feeling as though she’s the grandmum I never had. I blink quickly, feeling tears threatening my mascara.

  The dowager gives a quizzical look in the direction of my chest, then reaches up one hand, tugs at the collar of my dress, and peeks down it. “Your breasts look rather small today. What happened to them?”

  Well, nothing like having your fiancé’s grandmum look down your top to stop you from feeling sentimental.

  “I hope you haven’t been starving yourself like so many ridiculous young women do these days before their weddings.”

  Before I can answer, she adjusts my bra through my dress, then stares for a moment at my chest. “Maybe it’s just this bra, dear. We’re going to have to take you shopping for some proper lingerie before the wedding.”

  She makes a little tsking sound as she walks away. “Either way, make sure you keep enough body fat so you can get pregnant. I want to meet my great-grandchildren before I kick off. Now let’s get going. There are always a few bitches who show up early to these things, for some reason.”

  ****

  It’s not the enormous Swarovski crystal chandelier you notice first when you walk into the ballroom, nor the beautifully laid-out tables with gold cutlery and matching gold trays stacked with finger sandwiches, dainty desserts, and expertly-arranged fruit platters. You certainly won’t see (or hear, for that matter) the harpist sitting in the corner strumming her instrument, giving the space a heavenly feel. No, all these things pale in comparison to what catches your eye first.

  It’s the dozens of pyramids of toilet paper stacked on the floor, waiting for the guests to play ‘Dress the Toilet Paper Bride’ that you’ll see. And it’s my mum’s voice barking orders that you’ll hear.

  “No, no! We won’t want to start with the ‘Groom in His Skivvies’ game. No one’s ready for that one right off the bat. It’s more of an after a glass of punch game. Is that punch alcoholic? If not, I really think we would do well to find a couple bottles of vodka to pour in bowls to loosen things up a little.”

  Fuckity-fuck. My stomach lurches as I take in what’s she’s done in the time it took me to have my hair put up and some eye shadow swiped across my eyelids.

  “Why the hell is there toilet paper stacked everywhere?” Princess Florence asks me.

  “It’s for a party game. I’ll get rid of it.” I sigh and start toward my mum, telling myself to stay calm even though I’m completely pissed at her.

  On the drive over, I gave very specific instructions to my mother that none of the usual bridal shower icebreaker games were to be played. I almost believed she was going to listen to me, based on how earnest she seemed in her responses.

  “Mum, could I speak with you for a moment, please?” I plaster a fake smile on my face, then remember to greet the rest of the staff, as well as Grace from next door, who has come early to help. “Hello, Grace, everyone. Thank you all so much for your help. Mum…” I do the ‘come here’ gesture with my finger, but she takes no notice and continues putting the final touches on what will go down as the tackiest royal bridal shower in history.

  Before I manage to get to her, one of the pages announces the guests are arriving. I break out in a cold sweat, realizing my two worlds are about to collide in a most horrifying way.

  Mum beams at me. “Goody!” She claps her hands together. “You look lovely, Twinkle, although that colour is a bit drab. Did you see that my cousin, Rose, is here already?”

  Rose pops up from behind a table with a bag full of clothespins. “Hi, Tessa.” She hurries over to me and gives me a big hug, squishing me against her ample bosom. “I thought since I’ve met the prince before, I would be the best one to come and help your mother get everything ready.” She lowers her voice. “Although Grace from next door had to get in on this, too, of course.” She rolls her eyes at me.

  “Lovely to see you, Rose. Thanks so much for coming. Umm, if you don’t mind me asking, what are the clothespins for?”

  “Oh, never you mind!” my mum says. “You’ll find out soon enough. Now, Grace, where’s the veil? She needs to put it on before the people start coming in.”

  “Oh, no,” I say, shaking my head quickly as I see Grace hurrying towards me, carrying a veil made from wrapping paper ribbon attached to an upside-down paper plate. “I’ve just had my hair done, and I think it would hurt the Princess Dowager’s feelings if I—”

  “Nonsense,” says Mum. “Oh, as I live and breathe, it’s the Princess Dowager herself.” She rushes over toward her with her arms stretched out. “I didn’t even see you there, you’re so tiny in real life.”

  I watch the Princess Dowager stiffen as my mother bends over her for a long, awkward hug. I’m so distracted by this that Grace manages to get the wrapping paper veil secured to my head before I can stop her.

  “I’m a huge fan of your family,” my mum trills. “Not like Tessa, for a while there. She went over to the dark side, but I couldn’t be more pleased that Arthur managed to bring her back around. Did you know that I have a very rare commemorative mug from your wedding?”

  Vincent comes to Princess Florence’s rescue, his voice filling the room. “May I present the Countess of Waterford, as well as her daughters, Denalda and Regina.”

  He looks at me as he motions for me to come stand near the entrance to the ballroom. It’s clear from his expression that he’s horrified by my veil. I give him a ‘help me’ look, but there’s really nothing he can do at this point.

  I make my way over to our first guests and curtsy awkwardly at them. “Pleasure to meet you.”

  They nod, very clearly trying n
ot to laugh, then move on to saying hello to the Princess Dowager without speaking to me.

  The next guest to be announced is none other than Lady Dr. Brooke Beddingfield, along with her mother and grandmother, who, by the way, are every bit as elegant and beautiful as Brooke, not to mention are aging like fine wine. Brooke gives me a kiss on both cheeks as though we’re the best of friends, then says, “Oh, Tessa, you look positively hilarious! What a good sport you are.”

  My stomach decides now is the perfect time to join the conversation, growling loudly due to a lack of lunch. My cheeks heat up with embarrassment, and I raise my voice to try to hide the sound, but it’s no use.

  “My goodness, Tessa, was that your stomach growling? That didn’t sound healthy at all.”

  “I forgot to eat lunch,” I say as one of the other countesses catches Brooke’s eye and waves her over, putting an end to our conversation.

  Twenty minutes later, I’m still standing in the same spot, still saying the same thing as a stream of impeccably-dressed women enter the room, wide-eyed and whispering as they take in my mother’s creation. The Princess Dowager, as the hostess, greets them first, then me, then my mum, then Cousin Rose, who gives each of them a clothespin and a piece of paper with the forbidden words on them (like bride, wedding, lingerie, etc.) and explains the game. For some strange reason, the ladies then make their way over to Brooke, and she greets them also. I strain my ears to hear what they’re saying and catch little bits of their conversations, such as ‘shocking’ and ‘should have been you’ and ‘what is he thinking,’ and I hear Brooke’s smooth voice repeating ‘the heart wants what it wants.’ I couldn’t agree more. My heart wants to smash her in the teeth right about now. I wonder if there’s some way to do that whilst maintaining a dignified air…

  Under the pressure of greeting and trying to learn the names of close to two hundred new people, I have completely forgotten to find a way to have the toilet paper pyramids removed, and I’ve had no way to put a stop to whatever the hell else my mother is planning. My brain will only allow me to focus on a loop of horrible facts, starting with how much my toes are being pinched by these new heels, then moving on to the fact that I’m sweating so much that if I raise my arms, there will definitely be wet spots on my Chanel dress, to the fact that everyone here who’s not related to me is in mourning for the fact that Arthur isn’t marrying Brooke.

  Finally, Nikki breezes into the room, dressed in a bright green vintage fifties dress, her hair a shocking platinum this week. Relief washes over me as I take in the sight of her. Finally, my best friend is here. She can help!

  She curtsies very deeply in front of the dowager, then grins at me and winks. “Thanks for arranging my ride over here,” she murmurs.

  “I’m not going to get sued for sexual harassment, am I?”

  “Oh, when I get started with him, there won’t be any complaining, believe me.” She runs her tongue over her teeth and makes a smacking sound with her lips.

  “Nikki!” my mum calls. “Over here, sweetheart! You can help us get the games started.”

  I grip Nikki’s arm. “You have to stop her. She’s about to unleash an Abbott Lane Shower Hell on all these ladies and duchesses.”

  “It’ll be fun,” Nikki says, glancing around the room. “Besides, most of these women need to get the sticks out of their arses anyway.”

  “Please. They already think I’m a joke. Can you just—”

  “Oh, toilet paper bride game! That’s my favourite!” she says, hurrying over to my mum. “I get to be the bride in my group!”

  There goes my one ally. Vincent walks over and tells us all the guests have arrived so we may proceed with the afternoon’s activities. As much as I like Vincent, I wouldn’t mind slapping that amused look off his face right about now.

  He holds a microphone up for the Princess Dowager, who takes my arm and walks to the front of the room with me in tow. She clears her throat right into the microphone, then says, “Good afternoon, ladies. On behalf of the Langdon family, I would like to welcome you all and thank you for traveling from near and far to be here to help us celebrate the upcoming wedding of my only grandson, Arthur, to this lovely young woman next to me, Ms. Tessa Sharpe, who has been like a warm spring breeze throughout the palace these past months. Arabella couldn’t be here today, as she is on a humanitarian mission in the south, but she sends her warm wishes to her sister-in-law-to-be.”

  Humanitarian mission? I saw her this morning in her workout gear.

  Princess Florence continues. “So, please take the time to get to know Tessa today and in the coming weeks, as I promise you she’s more than worthy of both your time and admiration. She will one day be a poised and wonderful queen with her eye on the needs of all the people—both big and small—of our nation.”

  I tear up a bit and whisper, “Thank you.”

  Just then, my mum grabs the microphone from Princess Florence’s hand. “Hello!” she chirps. Oh, dear God. Has she been into the punch already? “For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Evi Sharpe, Tessa’s mum. I also want to thank you for coming today, and I wanted to say that our family is easily as excited as yours to be joining. I have always been a huge fan of the Royal Family, having amassed one of the most extensive collections of Royal Family commemorative dishes and knickknacks you’ll ever find. So, we’re sort of family already, in a way. Oh, but not in a strange, incestuous way.”

  I reach for my mum’s arm and try to subtly pull it down so as to lower the mic away from her mouth, but she doesn’t take the hint.

  “Tessa’s father can’t be with us today—oh, not because he’s died or is in jail, or anything horrible like that—he’s just at home watching football because this is more of a ladies’ thing. Anyway, on behalf of my husband, I wanted to say we couldn’t be happier for Tessa to have found Arthur. We always knew she’d be a late bloomer and eventually she’d hit her stride and make something of herself. And she finally has. We never thought she’d make something this big of herself, mind you—I mean, my God, who ever thought she’d be queen one day? Not us, I can tell you. But she will be, as soon as…well…it’s probably not polite to talk about that, is it?”

  She pauses, and I open my mouth to speak, but tears fill her eyes as she keeps going. “Just imagine, someday I’m going to have a plate with my little girl’s face on it in our buffet. Well, come spring already, I suppose.” She beams up at me for a second while fanning tears out of her eyes, then says, “Anyway, that’s enough sentimental words for today. Let’s get on with the party! The Princess Dowager has been so kind as to provide all the refreshments, and I thought we’d better bring the fun! We’ve got loads of shower games planned, so get ready—”

  “Gotcha, Evi!” Rose hollers, running at us with alarming speed. “You said ‘shower,’ so I get your clothespin!”

  “Oh, so I did! I’ll get it back, though! I always do!” My mum laughs into the mic. “First game is ‘Dress the Bride.’ Nobody can be in a group with someone at their own table. So, get up and find a stack of toilet paper in the room to stand by. No more than ten to a stack, now! Pick a group member to be the bride, and you’ve got ten minutes to make a gown out of all that toilet paper!”

  A server walks by with a tray of Champagne, and I swipe two. I consider keeping both for myself, but then remember I’m ‘sophisticated Tessa’, who would certainly never double-fist booze at a bridal shower. I offer one to the dowager, who takes it with a grateful smile. “I hate these things,” she says to me.

  “Me, too,” I say as Grace next door grabs me and hauls me to her group to be dressed.

  By the time I’m draped in toilet paper, the Champagne has gone to my head, but not in a good way. In that horrible way when you haven’t eaten in weeks and the bubbles make the room start to spin and make you feel hot and dizzy instead of light and airy. I look around at all the activity and the sour faces of so many of the guests here, and I begin to hate my mum for what she’s
done. She’s made me even more of a laughingstock than I already was and ignored all my attempts to be elegant and sophisticated in the eyes of these hateful women. I glare at her as she finishes dressing Nikki, wishing she weren’t here. A timer goes off, indicating that the game has thankfully ended, and the twenty brides are all lined up at the front of the room for judging. Of course, I end up standing next to Brooke, who somehow manages to pull off the toilet paper bride look as though it’s Dolce and Gabbana. She looks so lovely and slim that I’m certain she’d outshine me in my real dress. Hate fills me as I watch her step out of the line to spin and laugh gaily for the crowd when it’s her turn to be judged.

  Of course, she wins the big prize for best bride, and I cringe as my mother walks over to her with the envelope containing her prize. Brooke opens it and smiles, looking delighted as she holds up a five dollar gift card for Krispy Kreme doughnuts. Somehow, my mum has managed to get the mic again. “Congratulations to the lovely Lady Dr. Brooke Beddingfield, who is not only so accomplished but is also the most beautiful toilet paper bride here today. Now, I think I hear some stomachs growling, particularly Tessa’s. We’d better have a bite to eat so we can all hear each other over her stomach, and then we’ll play a game we like to call The Groom in His Skivvies. You’re gonna love it. It’s hilarious.” She drops the mic to her side and motions for everyone to go to the buffet table.

  “Mum,” I hiss. “Stop it now.”

  “What, Twinkle? Everybody’s having a lovely time except you. I think you’re just hangry. As soon as you have something to eat, you’re going to feel much better. So, wipe that frown off your face and have a couple of sandwiches.”

  “You’re humiliating me. This isn’t fucking Abbott Lane, and these people are not our friends. This is the fucking palace. They don’t dress people in toilet paper, and I don’t want them sketching the future King of Avonia in his skivvies for a laugh. You’ve already made a joke of me today. The least you can do is spare him the humiliation.”