“You doing okay?” Edward asked quietly, tilting his head so that only Perry could hear, and George, too, as they were seated beside one another.
She shot him a tight smile but nodded. Edward seemed to sense her distress and George watched his hand move from the glass he’d been holding to his lap. Discreetly, Edward shifted it over to Perry’s before he turned back to his conversation with Cassie. He could only imagine how tightly Perry clamped down on Edward’s fingers.
“This pasta is lovely,” Perry murmured as she forked up a bit of the tagliatelle George had recommended to her, and sparingly ate a few strands.
He sighed when she put her fork down and took another sip of wine. “That won’t settle your stomach. Do you want an aperitif?”
“No.” She shook her head and cradled the wine glass to her chest. “I’m fine with the red.”
He snorted. “You look fine. If frantic, insecure, neurotic, and emotional is the con you’re trying to sell?”
She squinted at him. “Stop being mean. You were being so nice, too. And you picked this beautiful place and managed to seat everyone perfectly.”
He grinned at that. The event was a success, he had to admit.
The back terrace of Giuseppe’s was where they were all seated. Under a bower of apple blossom that had to be false and yet looked real as hell.
The autumnal night wasn’t cold; even the weather was on his side. The table overlooked the back of the restaurant, and they had the yard—normally a bustling terrace filled with diners—to themselves. The old farmhouse looked quaint and rustic, and it was the last place anyone would really think to hold a small, intimate, but nonetheless, very royal, event.
It was why he’d chosen it. He’d known Perry would love it here.
The table itself was placed in an E-shape without the central tine. In the middle were the bride and groom, beside them were their main attendants—as Edward’s best man, he was at Perry’s side, and Cassie as Perry’s hastily selected Matron of Honor, was at Edward’s. Then came a few family members, Xavier included, and on the outer edges, opposite one another were the two sets of parents.
He’d segregated them both for a reason. His parents had to have a seat of some standing, while Perry’s had to be opposite them. By sectioning them off the way they did, yes, it was isolating, but it meant Nathaniel and Janice could talk amongst themselves without fear of having to socialize—a fate worse than death for her father, if Perry was correct.
It belonged in a movie, if he was being honest. Kind of a ‘Last Supper’ vibe with a Four Wedding and a Funeral thrown into the mix.
And why that gloomy combo popped into his head, he’d like to say he didn’t know… but he did.
His position in the center of the table meant he could see his parents easily. Which meant he could also see the three guards that had ducked down, individually, to whisper something into his father’s ear.
And whatever they were whispering, it wasn’t sweet nothings.
Though Philippe was good at hiding the strain that came as part and parcel of their position in Veronian society after many years of practice, he couldn’t con a conman.
Or, in this instance, someone who shared the same life as him.
The worried strain on his features that tightened with each word that passed from his guard’s lips. The small bites of his favorite dish that made Perry’s appetite seem ravenous…
No, something was happening.
And if George was a betting man, he’d say it was something to do with the wedding and the UnReals.
Not that it took a seer to figure that one out.
What else could it be?
The eggs for the cake had all been declared as coming from a batch with chicks in them?
The dress had been stained with paint?
No, nothing made his father get that particularly pained look on his face like the UnReals.
And sadly for George, there was no way he could go over and ease his curiosity. Not without stirring Perry’s interest too.
And an interested Perry was a dangerous Perry.
He’d learned that mistake back in Boston.
Chapter Sixteen
“Why, I’m not sure how he does it.”
Perry’s lips curved in a smile. She couldn’t help it. The pure Tennessee twang of a woman who hadn’t left the state in her lifetime—save for this one trip to her daughter’s wedding overseas—was blissful.
It was the sound of home, she realized.
And wasn’t that just poor timing that she started connecting the dots between her folks and home and haven when it was a little too late for her to start thinking that way?
This place was home now.
Well, it was a roof over her head until she could leave for Grosvenor House. But, more than that, she had Edward, George, and Xavier.
She had three men to help settle her into this way of life, and though she was still chewed up with nerves over what was going to happen tomorrow, a part of her was coming to look forward to it.
Why?
Because if she looked forward to it, it would be over that much more quickly. Once the wedding was over, she could slip back into the role she was learning—without a deadline.
There were certain things she needed to know now, and there were things she could learn in time. The pressure of the deadline was amping up her anxieties, but her mother’s presence was, surprisingly, working wonders on her.
“You don’t know how who does it, Mom?” she asked casually, swinging her foot over the side of the armchair.
Though her parents weren’t in the private family wing, she wasn’t offended on their behalf. George had tucked them away in quarters that were far more comfortable and a lot less stodgy with fewer antiques around every corner.
That meant the armchair she was sitting on was actually comfortable. And she didn’t have to fear she was about to break an heirloom every time she got up to take a leak.
The simple cream walls were offset with glossy wooden panels. Bright royal blue curtains hung around the bed—because even a less impressive stateroom in Masonbrook came with a four poster—and they matched the drapes that were swathed in great loops at the windows.
A grand Persian rug was underfoot, tonal colors of rich indigo and cream and brown melded together delightfully. And here and there, there were paintings on the wall of whose signatures she didn’t have to peer at to know they were Grand Masters of the field at their point in history.
Quite naturally, her parents hadn’t noticed. If anything, her daddy was trying to read the Bible while her mother flitted around the room like she hadn’t already been in here for two nights.
Janice’s “oohing” and “aahing” over everything made her a delight to show around the palace. She had a childlike glee about her that warmed Perry up.
She’d been impressed herself, but with the same beatific zeal as her mom? No way, no how.
She’d figured, after seeing her father’s reaction, why that was exactly.
She was a lot like Nathaniel Taylor. You could take the girl out of the state, could take the girl off the farm, but you couldn’t take her daddy’s influence from her character.
Truth was, she kind of liked that, though.
It made her feel close to him, and considering he’d been pretty damn quiet since he’d arrived here, that was something she really needed to feel.
“Philippe, of course,” Janice said on a huff, after she’d stared out of the window onto the gardens for a good two minutes. Apparently in awe of them. “Philippe—I don’t know how he does it. You saw him last night, didn’t you? There we all were, enjoying ourselves and having fun—”
“Some of us were enjoying ourselves a little too much,” Nathaniel retorted archly, but his leonine head didn’t lift from its bowed position over the Bible. Because her daddy was the type of guy to read the Bible to relax…
The scientist in her shook her head.
Janice just huffed. “If a woman ain�
��t allowed to have two glasses of that Verf Click stuff on her daughter’s wedding rehearsal, then when is she, Nathaniel?”
Perry had to hide her grin at her mother’s butchering of “Veuve Clicquot,” a very fine champagne that Edward had poured for her parents himself.
“Yeah, Dad. You could lighten up a bit,” Perry retorted, surprising herself with the criticism. Normally, she just let her dad be his quiet self.
But she knew this would be the longest she’d get to be with him for quite a while. Though she’d wanted to make it for Thanksgiving, unless her family came here for the event, this year, it was a no-go.
Drake had already put his foot down.
Being a royal sucked. And she wasn’t even royal yet!
Yeah, she got to travel in fancy schmancy jets and shit, but what was the point when those jets were never freakin’ used?
That particular tidbit of news was something she’d shared yesterday, and the disappointment on their faces had damn well broken her heart. But what could she do? How could she…?
A thought came to her, one that required further contemplation, as well as planning—could she find someone who’d look after the farm for two weeks? Could she encourage her folks to come to Grosvenor House for Thanksgiving?
Excitement welled in her at the prospect, but her father stanched it by grumbling:
“I’m quite happy as I am, thank you, Perry.” Nathaniel peered over his reading glasses to pin her with a look. “Can the same be said about you, child?”
Janice pshawed at that. “Don’t be silly, dear. Of course, she’s happy. I mean, Edward dotes on her. Anyone can see that.” Janice cupped a delicate peony that was arranged artfully in a beautiful glass jug on a side table. “I was the first to say that I thought you were crazy, sweetheart. But having seen him and met him and spoken with him, I can understand why you’ve fallen for him. Even if he does come with all this.”
Considering she’d been “"oohing” and “aahing” at everything since she’d arrived, Perry was surprised by her mother’s last comment.
Still, she shrugged. “I’m not doing it for anything other than Edward. He needs me.”
“You certain that’s the truth? Would be very easy for even a levelheaded girl like yourself to get carried away with it all.”
The dampening tones, of course, came from her father.
She sighed. “Yes, Dad. I’m certain. If anything, as Momma says, these extra bits, they’re more of a pain than a virtue.
“You know me, Daddy. I don’t want, nor need, nor like, a lot of fuss. And what’s happening tomorrow is one whole heap of fuss.”
Janice’s lips curved into a bright smile. “Why, I think that’s the most southern I’ve heard you sound all day.”
Nathaniel sniffed. “It’s a wonder you haven’t forgotten your roots considering how long you’ve been away from them.”
“Now, Nathaniel, you promised you wouldn’t mention that.”
Perry frowned as she sat up a little. “You could have called, Dad. If you weren’t happy with how long I’d been gone, you should have called.”
“I didn’t want to pester,” he said with a sniff.
“So, instead, you’re going to preach at me from behind a Bible?” She narrowed her eyes at him, not willing to take another potshot from him. “I’ve taken a lot on the chin since you arrived, Daddy. You weren’t kind to me on the plane, and you embarrassed Edward when he was just trying to make you see how happy we were together.”
“It would take a whole lot more than me to embarrass that boy,” Nathaniel remarked drily. “Anyone can see that.”
Because she trusted his opinion, she was curious what he meant. “What are you talking about?”
“Boy works on another playing field.”
“What do you mean?” She scowled at him. “Are you saying my fiancé’s nuts?”
Nathaniel huffed. “Did I say that?”
“No. Not exactly. But I’m not entirely sure what it was you were trying to say anyway.”
Janice, in a simple but pretty dress that George had helped Perry pick out for her, came to stand behind her husband. She pressed a quelling hand to his shoulder. “Now, Nathaniel, what have I told you about going all cryptic on me?” She shot Perry a look. “He’s getting worse with old age,” she complained.
Nathaniel peered up at her and shook his head. “You’re just not listening, neither of you. And you—a scientist, too,” he retorted, the words obviously aimed at Perry.
Swinging her feet around and off the arm of the chair, she turned to face him. “If you’ve got something to say, Dad, just say it.”
“I’m saying, the boy ain’t no simpleton. That’s all.”
“Well, no. I know that.” She frowned. “What I don’t understand is what you’re getting at.”
“Once upon a time they’d have called him a strategist. But it’s not political nowadays for a king to be that.”
“A strategist?” She frowned. “Why is that a bad thing?”
“Not necessarily a bad thing, nor is it a good thing. I’m just saying, kings and princes are more baubles now than the warriors they once were.”
“And Edward’s a warrior?” she asked, still confused.
Nathaniel nodded. “It’s why he’s lost. Doesn’t know what to do with himself.”
“You’ll be good for him,” Janice pointed out brightly, but even she looked uneasy at her husband’s words. Perry saw her squeeze his shoulder again, this time, hard enough to make her knuckles turn white. “Anyway, I was saying. Philippe. When those guards came to talk to him, why, he did look so stressed. I wanted to go over and ask if he was okay, but your father stopped me. Said it wasn’t our place.”
“The guards spoke to Philippe?” Perry asked, curious now. She hadn’t noticed anything amiss—the guards usually checked in with the King, or Edward, if he was the highest-ranking official at an event.
Janice shrugged. “He just looked mighty stressed out to me.” She picked at the waist of her dress. “This is lovely, by the way, Perry. Thank you for thinking of me.”
Still a little off-kilter because of the direction the conversation had taken, she murmured, “You’re welcome, Momma. I hope everything fits.”
“Oh, it does. And the suits fit your father a treat. Especially the one for the wedding.” Her mother let out a giggle that was surprisingly girlish. “Top hats and tails. I never. He looks quite the gentleman.”
Perry rolled her lips inward to hide her smile. Her mother looked delighted whereas her father looked mortified.
Still, if that giggle was anything to go by, her parents were going to get up to mischief while they were on Veronian soil.
Not that she wanted to think of her parents doing anything other than holding hands, quite naturally.
She smirked at the thought, touched despite herself to see how close the two were.
That hadn’t changed. Not in all the years they’d been together.
In fact, watching them interact was very grounding. And Perry hadn’t realized exactly how much she’d needed that. Not until now when suddenly, it became a little easier to breathe.
Thank God for parents.
Chapter Seventeen
Nodding at Xavier, Edward murmured, “Did Perry ask about what we’re wearing?”
Shaking his head, his cousin replied, “Why would she?”
“Because most brides would be interested in something like that.” He wasn’t hurt by her disinterest though—more like, amused.
“Why are you asking me anyway? Surely she’d have talked to George about it?”
Edward snorted. “If you think that, you’re mad. She’s avoided any talk of the wedding with him because she knows he’ll bore her to death with the details.”
Xavier shot him a wry look. “So he’s been boring you to death with them instead?”
“And you, too, by the looks of it,” Edward retorted, lips twitching as he tightened the chain around his hips.
�
�She’ll be shocked as hell by the kilt,” Xavier pointed out as he adjusted his own. “You never get used to the breeze, do you?”
His rueful comment had Edward laughing. “No. You don’t. Imagine how women feel in skirts.”
“I’d rather not. And don’t belittle my masculinity by comparing this to a goddamn skirt.”
Edward grinned. “What about my masculinity?”
“You’re very secure in yours. You’re older. I need the extra nine-hundred days to get a grapple on things.”
Edward snickered, and realized how relaxed he was feeling. It was an odd sensation. He was about to get married in front of the whole world and rather than feeling a lick of nerves, he felt like he’d downed a half-bottle of scotch—without the hangover waiting to happen.
It was a novel feeling.
“You look happy, cuz,” Xavier murmured, knocking shoulders with him as he approached the mirror where Edward was standing.
Xavier had come to Edward’s room for help with the cravat that came as part of the national uniform they were both wearing. He fully expected for his younger brother to make an appearance shortly.
One day, Perry would help them with this cravat…
He chuckled at the thought.
“What are you laughing at?” Xavier asked curiously.
“I’m just trying to imagine Perry helping us with the neckties.”
Xavier’s eyes widened. “Jesus, we’d be better off asking one of the guards.” He grinned back, then studied Edward’s smirking profile a second. “See, that’s what I’m talking about… it’s great to see you so at peace.”
Edward cocked a brow. “What? In comparison to the last time?”
“You looked like you were going to attend a funeral.”
Edward shrugged. “It felt like it.”
“This doesn’t?”
“What do you think?” Edward replied, a quick grin lightening his features further. “I haven’t felt this…” he blew out a breath, “buoyant, I guess, for years.”
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