Perry shrugged; the move jostled him a little, but had her settling deeper into his half-embrace. “I like it here.”
“Meaning, you don’t like Masonbrook Castle?” he asked, cocking a brow at her.
He expected her to be embarrassed, to shoot George an apologetic look when she replied—but she didn’t. She blatantly grumbled, “No. It’s horrible.”
George huffed. “Say it how it is, Perry.”
“It is horrible. And you know it, George. It’s way too big, and everyone can listen in on even the quietest of conversations.” She shot him a narrow-eyed glance. “And those Guardians of the Keys? They give me the goddamn creeps, wandering around clanking. It’s like living with Peeves.”
“Who the hell’s Peeves?” Xavier demanded, when George just snickered.
“Don’t watch much Harry Potter, do you?” she retorted.
“Considering it’s for kids, no.”
She sucked in a sharp breath. “You’d better be messing with me. Have you read the books?”
“No.” He scowled at her. “I’ll assume you have.”
“Both of us have,” George replied, grimacing. “They suck you in, cuz.”
“They’re for kids.”
“They’re totally not,” she barked. “Right, that’s it. We need a Harry Potter movie marathon night.” She tapped her chin with a finger. “Do you think I could convince Edward to come and watch it?”
Xavier whistled. “Might as well test the limits of this relationship from the very start.”
She froze. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He nudged her. “I was only teasing. But, I think the last time I actually saw Edward sit down in front of a television was…” He frowned. “In fact, I don’t even remember when.”
George peered down at some ribbon samples—whatever the hell he was doing, Xavier didn’t have a clue. “He’s not a fan of TV, Perry. Still, for you, he’d probably watch the movies.”
“What are you doing, George?” Xavier asked, eyeing his cousin askance.
Perry answered instead. “Marianne gave me a list of things a wedding planner needed from me. I gave that to George, considering this is all his fault.”
“‘Fault’ has negative connotations,” George immediately retorted, wagging a finger at her.
“This is a negative situation,” she blustered. “I’d be happy getting married in the town hall, but oh no, God forbid we don’t get married in a goddamn abbey.” She rolled her eyes. “That’s your fault, bud. You have to pay the ferryman.”
“But I don’t even know what half this stuff is for,” he said on a wail that had Xavier snickering.
“You think I do?” She pointed a finger at him. “George, who is the least girly girl you know?”
His cousin grumbled. “You.” There was such little dithering over the answer that Xavier’s snickers turned into outright laughter.
“Exactly. So, since you get such a kick out of dressing me in all those way-too-tight dresses, why don’t you make yourself useful and pick my wedding dress too?”
“Sounds perfectly logical and reasonable to me,” Xavier said smoothly, grinning hard when George flipped him the bird.
Perry stuck her nose back in her book. “When it comes to important things like the food, I’m in. Dresses and shit?” She scoffed. “I’ve the Veronian water supply to save, so don’t think you can waste a crap ton of it on stupid bouquets at the wedding.”
“It’s traditional,” George retorted. “How the hell can we cut down on flowers?”
“We’re bringing the royal family into the modern age, aren’t we?” she jibed. “Modern age means not destroying the Earth just so some tables can look fancy. And don’t think I didn’t notice all those flower arrangements at the engagement party.” She shuddered. “I almost cried when I saw them being tossed out.”
Xavier squeezed her arm. “They’re not tossed out. They get sent to the local hospitals.”
“Well, the staff didn’t look like they were handling them with care.” She pursed her lips. “I made a point of watching.”
“We’re not screwing you enough if you have time to sneak out and watch the staff clear up after balls,” George grumbled.
“I couldn’t sleep,” she admitted. “It was a big night, and none of you were with me. So, yeah, there was no screwing to be had.”
Xavier sighed. “It would have been impossible to have sneaked in and out.”
“Oh, I know. I’m not complaining, just saying it how it is. Which is why, when we’re married, we’re moving.”
George’s eyes widened. “Beg pardon?”
“We’re moving,” Perry said, with no small amount of satisfaction.
“Where to? A terraced house in the city center?” George snapped, his shoulders hunching in agitation.
“No. To Grosvenor Manor.” Her eyes sparkled. “I saw it in one of those long, and bloody boring books Marianne gave me.”
“I’ve created a monster,” George wailed, eyes aimed heaven-ward.
“Not a monster. Just someone who wants some privacy while she’s got it. There’s no reason we have to stay at Masonbrook,” Perry argued. “I double checked the protocol, and even asked one of the ghost keepers. They looked as surprised as you do, but they answered.”
“Jesus, you mean you asked the staff?” George’s mouth fell agape. “Please tell me I misheard you.”
“Nope.”
He ran his hands through his hair. “News will have spread to Mother.”
“It already has,” she told him calmly. “When the Guardian of the Keys said there was no real reason why we couldn’t live there, and she asked someone in the Royal Library who concurred, I told your mother. She said it was a wonderful idea. And it is. It’s two estates away from this place, Xavier, so we can be close, and requires a quarter of the staff needed at the Castle. It really is too much to have such a residence being used when things are so dire on an ecological front.” She wagged a finger at him. “And don’t accuse me of being an eco-warrior, not when I’m only here to save Veronia from itself!”
For a second, George was speechless, and Xavier couldn’t blame him.
“Does Edward know?” he managed to utter after a few silent moments.
“Nope. I thought I’d let it be a surprise.”
Laughter barked from him at that. “It will certainly be that, Perry.”
In fact, a surprise would be an understatement.
Still, he was coming to learn that when it came down to Perry, most things were a definite understatement.
Veronia was about to be shaken up. Xavier just hoped the nation was ready for the earthquake.
Chapter Seven
Perry smiled through her nerves. It was ridiculous to be nervous now, but meeting a woman who was considered a friend by not just one of her men, but all three of them?
Talk about pressure.
Of course, pressure was a relative concept these days. With Marianne, George, and even Philippe nagging her about wedding preparations, and a gaggle of staff that seemed to hover around the queen before creating satellite gaggles around her, Perry had never been so popular.
It was with relief that she fled to The Grange, a hotel that had been in Veronia for over a hundred years and was as renowned as The Ritz in London or The Four Seasons in New York. The only downside to her escape was the fact she was meeting with a stranger who, technically, knew more about the three men who had totally turned her life on its head than Perry did herself.
“Perry!”
Cass’s voice was overly loud in the quiet tea lounge—yeah, it was that kind of place. Had a tea lounge and everything for the “little women.”
When she’d been guided in here by a fawning concierge who she had nearly tripped over because he was bowing so low, she’d smuggled herself into a corner booth where she could hide from the interested stares of the ladies in the salon.
The place was all red chintz and gilt touches. Everywhere she went of late
seemed to be gold-plated. It was starting to drive her crazy.
Her minimalist apartment in Boston looked like an empty space in comparison to the overdressed and over-decorated rooms she was having to adapt to.
If Edward wasn’t careful, she’d take to camping out in his office. It was the only place she’d been in the castle that didn’t have cherubs as accents.
“Hi Cass,” she murmured when the other woman approached the booth and slipped in. She shot her a nervous look. “Thanks for meeting up.”
She’d never been that great with the same sex. They never seemed to like her, and of late, she’d hung out mostly with guys anyway because of George. It was probably why being with three men at once didn’t bother her.
George had more friends than she did, but he’d always included her like she was one of the guys.
Huh. Had he been training her from the start?
The notion had her lips twitching, and she quickly hid her amusement lest Cass think it was aimed at her.
“Sorry. I should have waited to call you Cass.” She grimaced. “That was rude of me; it’s just that’s what the guys call you.”
The other woman waved a hand. “Please do. I’m only ‘Cassandra’ here in Veronia. It’s like stepping back a hundred years sometimes. My husband’s name still packs more punch than mine does.”
Perry’s brows rose. “Really?” Considering Xavier had told her that Cass’s husband’s family had lost their fortune, that was a double blow to the feminist cause.
“Yes. Really.” She grimaced as she settled her purse beside her on the red pillowy chintz. “It’s very annoying. Although, New York, while it is far more level over there, still has its moments. My husband’s firm—he works in venture capitalism—treat its female staff members abominably, in my opinion.”
“What do they do?”
“Hire fewer women around our age because we can get pregnant. Stuff like that. I only know because Marcus tells me, and then regrets telling me when I try to make him talk to his other partners about it. He just says it’s industry standard stuff, but that doesn’t mean it’s right, does it?” she complained with a grumble.
“No, it really doesn’t.” She pulled a face. “I’m fortunate, I guess. I’ve never experienced anything like that. The guys in my lab can be douches, and they walk over me sometimes, but that’s probably my fault for letting them.”
“Different industries. When you play the stocks, it’s a high risk, high turnover process,” Cass explained. “A lot of people don’t stay in the game long. Their hearts won’t let them.”
Perry widened. “Why won’t they? They feel guilty about making so much money?”
Cass hooted, her hand coming up to clap her chest. “No, Perry. Dear God, no. They have heart attacks, silly. It’s too much stress and tension. High pressure. It’s a nightmare situation.”
Perry laughed too. “Oops. Of course, that makes far more sense.”
“Venture capitalists don’t have hearts, according to some. So they certainly don’t feel guilty for getting richer and richer.” She winced. “Not that I’ll be giving my children that insight into what their papa did for a living.”
“Did?” Perry asked carefully. “Is that why you’re moving home?”
Cass sighed. “No. We’re moving back because Marcus was one of the unfortunate ones. Again.”
“In what way?” Perry asked, trying to be careful, as really this had nothing to do with her. To make up for sounding like a snoop, she murmured, “I know Edward’s concerned. Xavier too. Xavier said he spoke with Marcus recently and he never made any mention of coming home.”
“That’s because he had no intention of moving home, until I made the decision for us.” Cass’s tone was so grim in contrast to her usual joviality that Perry’s eyes widened in surprise.
“Is everything okay, Cass? I’m really not prying, but you just seem a little stressed.”
The other woman shot her a look. “That’s very perceptive of you. But I need a drink first.”
Taken aback because it was only two in the afternoon, Perry watched as Cass clicked her fingers and a footman appeared. In another place, at another time, she’d have said the guy was a waiter or a server. But with his honest-to-God breeches and a queue hairstyle, along with a tightly-fitted waistcoat and jacket, he looked like a Comic-Con visitor who’d managed to mix up a comic with the Beauty and the Beast cartoon.
She could even imagine the dude belting out, “Be Our Guest.”
Within ten minutes, they had a platter of sandwiches, a high cake stand loaded down with cakes and scones and fancies, as well as a bottle of champagne and a tray of tea.
Cass fell on the champagne like a dog scarfing down meat after being on a vegan diet for two months.
“God, I needed that.” Cass pulled a face as she practically hugged the champagne flute to her breasts. “You must think I’m a drunk or something. But I’m not. It’s just...the children are being nightmares. They didn’t want to move, and I can’t blame them. They were born in New York, but they’re still Veronians, and I refuse to stay in Manhattan.”
“Kids can be difficult after a big move. They’re just getting used to a new place, I suppose.”
Cass sighed. “Oh, I know, but that doesn’t make any of them less of a monster for it. My eldest, Sebastien—he’s eight—this morning declared that he wanted to divorce me so he could return to New York. He said he felt certain our old nanny would take him in.” She rolled her eyes. “The same nanny who wouldn’t come with us even though the situation was urgent, and I offered her twice the salary for a year just to get her to make the transition with us.”
Perry’s throat choked. “Twice the salary?”
Cass nodded. “Louise had been with us for six years. She’s the only nanny Jessica and Robert have ever known. But she wouldn’t come.” Cass shrugged, but Perry saw how irritated she was. “They’re all struggling, but Robert is finding it the hardest.” Cass pronounced the name the French way. Almost like she was saying ‘Row-Bear.’
The Veronians had an odd accent. It was like a hodgepodge of all the Romance languages, but the names tended to either have an Italian edge or a kiss of French. Like George and Xavier. Only Edward’s name sounded very English, and quite stilted with it from time to time.
“Is he the youngest?” Perry asked softly.
“Yes. He’s the baby.” She sighed into her champagne. “It’s very difficult to…”
“To?”
“Have your children pine so hard for another woman. I suppose it’s my fault for having a nanny, but when the children came—and so close together—I was out of my depth. My husband hired our first nanny, and then when I had Jessica, my mother hired Louise. Can you imagine? We had two!
“I fired the first one because I didn’t like how she handled Sebastien’s tantrums, and stayed with Louise. I should have fired the pair of them and been a mother myself. Now, I have three children who don’t know what to do with me, and who have zero relationship with their workaholic father.”
Perry blinked. Going instantly from sharing nothing to sharing everything, Cass apparently was a lightweight when it came to champagne.
“Maybe this is why you needed to return to Veronia,” Perry stated gently. “So you can reconnect with your family. It sounds like that’s something you want.”
Cass winced. “It is. My mother thinks I’m mad, but the last thing I want is to have a relationship like ours with the children.
“We’re about as close as the North and South Pole. She only calls to dictate something to me like a tin pot Hitler.” Cass clapped a hand over her mouth. “Oops. I’m sorry, Perry. I’m sharing too much.”
Letting out a little laugh, Perry had to admit, “I didn’t expect you to tell me so much at first, but it’s okay. I won’t speak a word to anyone.”
Cass eyed her. “No, I think I recognized that from the off anyway. Plus, Edward wouldn’t be marrying you if you were a tattletale. He had that once—
Arabella was a frightful gossip, you know? The last thing he needed was a repeat of that!” Before Perry could mine for more information about Edward’s dead wife, Cass carried on, tone mournful. “It’s been such a long time since I’ve been back here. I barely recognize my old friends. They’re all Botoxed to the max and can barely open their mouths from all the collagen fillers.
“I thought New York was bad for that. Then, there’s the fact they won’t talk about anything other than you and how you snared Edward. I forgot how incestuous life at court is, but it’s not like I can avoid it. Being back here means I have certain roles to fulfill once more.” She grimaced, toasted her glass. “The duties of being a Marchioness.”
“Is that why Marcus doesn’t want to be here? He’s the Marquis after all. He’ll have more duties than you, surely?”
“That’s the half the reason.”
“What’s the other half?” Perry asked wryly. “It’s okay, Cass. You can tell me. I really won’t share it with anyone. Not even Edward, if you don’t want me to.”
Cass picked up a sandwich and took a deep bite—she swallowed the whole thing in close to one-and-a-half mouthfuls. Then, she fluffed at her bouncy bob of golden curls—hair that anyone would be jealous of. “You know how I said venture capitalism was bad for the heart? It was bad for Marcus’s.”
“He had a heart attack?” Perry asked, aghast.
“Yes.” She pursed her lips as she poured herself another flute. When she waggled the bottle of champagne at Perry, Perry shook her head and motioned at her teacup, which was still full. “I told him that he was going to kill himself with work, and I was half right. He almost died. Then, when he decided that jumping back in the saddle a few weeks after he was released from hospital was a smart move, I told him I’d divorce him if he didn’t take a step back.” She firmed her jaw. “When he didn’t take that seriously, I moved here.”
Perry’s mouth gaped at the serious ultimatum. “God, Cass, I never…” What could she say? She didn’t know the woman, so couldn’t say it seemed out of character or surprising. In the end, she blustered out a truth. “That took balls.”
Her Highness, Princess Perry: Contemporary Reverse Harem (Kingdom of Veronia Book 2) Page 12
