by Renna Peak
Royal Wedding Fiasco
Renna Peak
Ember Casey
Casey Peak Publishing, LLC
This book is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, locations or incidents are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, events, or locations is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2017 by Ember Casey and Renna Peak
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
First Edition: August, 2017
Contents
Royal Heartbreakers Reader Team
1. Andrew
2. Victoria
3. Leopold
4. Elle
5. Andrew
6. Victoria
7. Leopold
8. Elle
9. Andrew
10. Victoria
11. Leopold
12. Elle
13. Andrew
14. Victoria
15. Leopold
16. Elle
17. Andrew
18. Leopold
19. Victoria
20. Leopold
21. Elle
22. Andrew
23. Victoria
24. Andrew
25. Elle
26. Leopold
27. Victoria
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Andrew
TWO WEEKS UNTIL THE WEDDING
How did I end up here? Topping off my glass of brandy, I stare out the window of my study, watching the snow flurries fall to the gardens below. How did it come to this? When I asked Victoria to marry me, I never guessed that I would be the one pushing for a large, elaborate event. Aren’t women supposed to love weddings? Isn’t the bride supposed to be the one boring her husband-to-be with questions about color palettes, flower arrangements, and all of that nonsense, instead of the other way around?
With a sigh, I take a long swig of my drink. Behind me, I hear the door to the study open. I turn, expecting Victoria, but instead I see my brother, Leopold.
He’s looking well, considering how little sleep he’s gotten these past couple of weeks. I never would have guessed how attentive he’d be to his newborn son, but he’s taken to the job quite well—joyfully, even. Still, it’s with exhausted eyes that he smiles at me.
“Got another glass?” he asks, gesturing to the brandy.
“Of course,” I say, reaching for another. “How’s Elle doing?”
“She’s getting some well-deserved sleep,” he says. “They really need to put warning labels on babies. They suck the energy right out of you.”
I chuckle, but I can’t help but feel a pang of regret deep inside me. Victoria can’t have children, and though I love her and want to be with her anyway, part of me is sad knowing that she and I will never experience what my brother and Elle have.
Still, I don’t want to linger on what I don’t have. Instead, I prefer to focus on what I do—a woman I love more than life itself. In two weeks’ time, we’ll be pledged to each other forever.
“What about you?” Leopold asks, taking his glass and standing beside me at the window. “How are you doing? Are Mother and Victoria driving you crazy with wedding details?”
“Not exactly.” I rub my thumb against the side of the glass. “Mother’s doing what she normally does, making sure everything is in order, but Victoria…” I shake my head. “I know she wants to get married. But she doesn’t seem particularly excited about the wedding. And I know exactly why—she’s not the kind of woman who craves the spotlight, and a huge royal wedding isn’t exactly her style.” My thumb pauses. “But it’s what the people expect. What the people need—especially after all this business with Rosvalia and the Amhurst Valley. Montovia needs to celebrate, and the people need to get to know their future queen. Besides, I don’t want to think about what sort of rumors would circulate if we suddenly downsized the entire affair.”
“Is that what she wants?” Leopold asks. “To downsize?”
“She hasn’t said so, but I know Victoria. She’s not the sort of woman who spent her entire childhood dreaming about her fairy tale wedding day. And she’s not used to being the center of attention. It’s a lot of pressure, and though she won’t admit it out loud to me, I can see it’s taking its toll on her.”
“Understandably,” my brother says. “But give her some credit—she knew what she was signing up for when she agreed to marry into this family.”
“I know. And that’s why she hasn’t even uttered a word of complaint. I know she’ll do as expected, but…damn it, it’s our wedding day. I want her to be happy. I want it to be the happiest day of her life, not something she has to endure against her will.” I pick up my glass and drain the rest of my drink.
Leopold continues to sip at his. “I feel for you—I know this has been a huge adjustment for Elle, too. I have to admit, though, I’m a little jealous.”
“Jealous?”
“You get to marry the love of your life in two weeks,” he says. “Elle and I have been engaged for longer than you and Victoria have, but we still haven’t even started planning the wedding. Obviously, circumstances were slightly different in our case—and I perfectly understand why she didn’t want to get married until after the baby came. But sometimes it feels like the day will never come. Especially now—I think it will be a long, long time before either of us has the energy to even think about a wedding. All that planning…” He shrugs. “Too bad we can’t just get married at yours.”
“What?”
“I’m only joking—don’t look so horrified. But think of the headlines we’d get.” He laughs. “Truly, Brother—I’m not serious. I’m just looking for a way to have a wedding without doing any of the work.”
In spite of myself, I find his idea rather intriguing. “It would take some of the pressure off of Victoria… At least, she wouldn’t be the only object of attention that day, especially if your son is also in attendance…”
Leopold looks over at me in surprised. “You’re seriously considering it?”
Good God, I actually am. I’m a blasted fool. “It would certainly kill two birds with one stone.”
“More than two. Montovia would get its grand celebration, Elle and I would get our wedding, Victoria would get some of the attention taken off her, Father would stop breathing down all of our necks about living in sin…” He grins. “I’m a genius, aren’t I?”
“Only by accident.” I rub my chin. “I’ll have to run it by Victoria, of course. Her happiness is my priority.”
“Oh, I understand completely. I’ll have to discuss it with Elle, too. But assuming both of them are open to the idea…”
“Then I think we’ve found the perfect solution to our respective dilemmas. One I never would have dreamed up on my own.”
“That’s why you need me, Brother,” Leopold says with a laugh. “Now if you’ll excuse me, now that I’ve had a much-needed drink, I think I’ll go have a much-needed nap.”
After he’s gone, I stay by the window, staring out at the thin layer of snow on the ground outside. One way or anoth
er, this wedding is shaping up to be completely unforgettable.
Victoria
A young maid blinks at me a few times, obviously waiting for me to answer her.
I look down at the items she carries in her hands. “How is this even a real question?”
She looks up at me with a start. “My lady?”
“I mean, look.” I take one of the pieces of cloth from her hand. “If you turn this one ninety degrees, it’s exactly the same, isn’t it?”
She gulps a little. “I’m sorry, but I think Her Majesty is asking which color you like the best? Not which direction the stripes go?”
“They’re both the same color.”
“No, my lady. One is ecru on eggshell.” She lifts the napkin still in her hand. “And that one is eggshell on ecru.” She nods toward the one I’m holding. “Her Majesty says it’s critical that we decide if we’re to get enough here for the reception.”
My shoulders sag and I hand the cloth back to her. “Ecru on eggshell. I guess.”
“Very good, my lady. A very wise choice.” The woman smiles at me as she curtsies, then turns and leaves my room.
I sit down on my sofa and bury my head in my hands. How did my life come to this?
Once, I was a fairly successful tabloid journalist. It may not have been the most enviable of jobs, but there was a time that I liked what I did. I at least felt like I had some purpose in my life.
Now, I’m reduced to choosing between two different shades of beige for a gigantic wedding I don’t want.
I realize that this is a huge affair—that the country of Montovia is suffering from the recent act of war and that everyone could use something to look forward to. And the queen is beside herself with joy—she has a new grandchild and two more on the way.
I try to ignore the little pang of jealousy in my gut. There is nothing I want more than to be able to give Andrew the heir I know he wants. The fact that he’s stood by me and loved me anyway makes me love him all the more.
There’s a soft rapping on my door, and it opens a moment later.
I don’t even look up. I know it’s Andrew, and I’m not sure I can bear to have him see me like this.
It really should be some fairy tale—this enormous wedding. But as each day passes, I feel more and more like it’s a weight on my shoulders. Constantly reminding myself that this wedding isn’t for me—it’s for Montovia—is the only way I’ve been able to keep myself from finding the next train to anywhere but here.
Andrew sits beside me and rubs my back for a moment. “Is there anything I can do?”
I turn my head, peeking at him from between my fingers. “Are you more fond of eggshell on ecru or ecru on eggshell?”
He chuckles, rubbing at his jaw for a moment. “I suppose I’ve never thought about it.” He pauses. “Is there a difference?”
I can’t help but laugh as I finally lift my head. “Not an appreciable one. Honestly, I’m not sure how those became the colors for my wedding at all.”
His eyebrow arches for a moment before he nods. “It really has spun a little out of control, hasn’t it?”
“Three thousand people. Did you hear about that?” I pull his hand into mine, squeezing it tightly. “Three thousand. And that’s just at the ceremony. We’re going to have four separate receptions now. Four.”
He presses his lips in a line, nodding. “I’ve heard.” He lets out a breath as he watches me for a moment. “I suppose now is not the most opportune time to tell you that Mother has decided to invite several of her charities, too. She says she doesn’t believe most of them will come, but that it would be rude not to invite them. It could be a thousand more.”
My eyes flutter closed for another moment. Four thousand people. At my wedding.
I let out a shaky breath before I look up at him. “Can’t we just do what William and Justine did? Can’t we fly to Vegas? Have a tiny ceremony, just for us?” Even as the words leave my mouth, I know my suggestion is not something Andrew would ever agree to. Even if he wasn’t the first-born and heir to the throne, he’s not the type of man who would want to elope. He’d want his family there with him, and who am I to deny him that?
But there has to be a compromise between a Vegas wedding and a ceremony with four thousand people watching.
And that doesn’t even include the people who will be watching on television.
My stomach turns a cartwheel at that thought. I knew going into this that it was going to be a spectacle, but I had no idea it was going to get like this.
“It’ll be over before we know it. And then we can get to the business of being man and wife.” He gives me a tight-lipped smile. “But a suggestion was made to me today that might make things a bit easier…”
“I am all ears.” I look up at him, almost pleading with my eyes. “I would do anything to get us out of this.”
He chuckles, pulling my other hand into his so that he’s holding both. He squeezes my fingers, but his expression changes, almost to one of uncertainty. “Leopold spoke with me a little while ago.”
“How are they doing? We’ve hardly seen them since they had the baby.”
He nods. “I know. They’ve taken to parenthood quite well, it would seem.” Something flickers in his eyes—something I know all too well is regret. “But he did have a suggestion. It’s a little unorthodox. Actually, it’s quite unorthodox.”
I tilt my head, waiting for the bomb to drop.
He looks down at me, the uncertainty returning to his expression. “He suggested that perhaps we could have a double wedding. That he and Elle could be married alongside us. It might take some of the pressure off.”
I blink at him a few times. Of all the things I might have thought he would say to me this morning, that wasn’t one of them.
Part of me wants to leap with joy—not being the center of attention and not having the eyes of the entire world on me is so freeing that I could probably do a backflip.
But I am not the only person in this equation.
“And how do you feel about it?” I look up at him. “It’s your day, too.”
He gives me a small shrug as he squeezes my hands. “I’m willing to do whatever it is you want to do. Whatever would make you happiest.”
“I think…I think it would take a lot of the pressure off. Maybe Leo and Elle can decide if we have horizontal or diagonal stripes on the napkins.”
Andrew chuckles again as he releases my hands, sliding his arms around my waist to pull me into an embrace. “I suppose they could.”
My heart races with joy for a moment, but that feeling is subdued a second later. I pull away just enough to look up into his eyes. “Has anyone asked Elle how she feels about this idea?”
Leopold
There’s nothing more beautiful in the world than the sight of Elle holding our newborn son.
She’s sitting on the sofa in our suite, her feet up on the cushions, our baby sleeping softly in her arms. She still looks half asleep herself, her half-lidded eyes locked on the tiny bundle in her arms.
“You were supposed to be napping,” I say quietly, trying not to disturb our son. Elle needs every minute of sleep she can get. Even with a team of servants and nurses to help us, neither Elle nor I have gotten more than a few hours in a row since the birth a couple of weeks ago.
“I was sleeping,” Elle says. “But then he started fussing again, and he wouldn’t stop until I held him.”
I smile as sit on the chair just to the side of the sofa. I know exactly how she feels—every little sound our son makes seems to tug at something deep inside me, and the thought of ignoring even his quietest of whimpers brings me physical pain. I never knew my love for my child would be this intense, that the urges to protect and care for him would be so all consuming.
I reach out and gently run my fingers through Elle’s hair. She sighs and tilts her head back against the cushions, leaning into my touch. My eyes fall to our son, who stirs slightly at his mother’s movements but never opens hi
s eyes.
We named him Matthew. After an intense debate between us and certain family members—my father was pushing for Edmund until the bitter end—Elle and I decided to name our son in honor of the one person who, more than anyone else in our lives, supported our romance: my manservant, Matthias. It still makes me grin to remember the look on Matthias’ face when we told him—at first he looked like he might pass out, and then like he might cry, and then he hugged me so tight I thought my ribs might break. I swear, some days he looks at Matthew as if he were his own son.
I never imagined I could be this happy and content. Only one thing in the world could make me happier.
“My love,” I say softly to Elle, still stroking her hair. “I have a proposition for you.”
She turns her face toward me. “A proposition? Should I be scared?”
“God, I hope not.” I laugh. Then again, maybe asking a brand new mother to get married in two weeks is a pretty big deal. I take a deep breath before going on. “Andrew and I were talking about the wedding.”
“I’m glad I’m not him,” Elle says, smiling. “Planning a royal wedding sounds like the most exhausting thing in the world—and I say that as someone who can’t remember the last time she had more than three hours of sleep in a row.” Her grin widens. “Promise me that when we get married, we’ll elope.”
I sit back, rubbing the back of my neck. “You see, well…that’s the thing.”
