The Princess Pose (The Modern Royals Series Book 2)

by Aven Ellis

  I’ve seen that look before, when we were at Windsor last year for Ascot. It was Clementine’s first outing with the family.

  My heart accelerates. My stomach turns into a knot.

  That was the start of her war on Clementine.

  But Antonia’s battle with her future daughter-in-law is over now.

  The new one is against me.

  And the cold expression in her eyes tells me she is going to do everything possible to ruin what I have with Roman tonight.

  Chapter 28

  Battle Lines

  My breathing grows rapid. My mind is racing. The anxiety grows within me as I watch Antonia talk to guests, her head tilted at the right angle to indicate interest, her facial expression on point with the conversation at hand. As I watch her, I remember the glance we exchanged a few moments ago.

  She has put a target on my back.

  And the weapon she will use to destroy me is Roman.

  I feel sick. I’ve made a massive mistake bringing him here. I should have waited. Now I understand I’ve walked into a minefield, and I don’t know where she’s hidden the bombs.

  “Liz? Are you all right?”

  I blink. Roman is watching me, concern flickering in his hazel eyes.

  “Yes,” I lie.

  He can see through my answer, and a crease forms in his brow.

  Before he can say anything else, Victoria and James approach us.

  “What is wrong with Mum?” Victoria asks.

  “What do you mean?” I say, my panic now rising on a different front.

  “I ran into her in the loo,” she says. “She said she didn’t feel well and was going home.”

  I feel the colour drain from my face. “She left?” I cry, aghast that she would do this when she knew I wanted her to meet Roman. “She was supposed to meet Roman!” I take a quick glance at him. He appears shocked that my mum abruptly left.

  “Is Henry here?” James asks, glancing around.

  “No,” Bella says, frowning. “But he assured me he would be.”

  An awkward silence falls over the squad.

  “You must be Roman,” James says quickly, switching gears. “I’m James, Liz’s youngest cousin.”

  Roman extends his hand and shakes it. “A pleasure, Your Royal Highness.”

  “You can quit that bit,” a baritone voice from behind me says. I instantly know it’s Xander.

  Roman and I both turn around, and he is grinning mischievously at us.

  “Xander,” he says, extending his hand to Roman. “No bow, no titles. Just call me Xander.”

  “Roman,” he says, shaking Xander’s hand. “Pleasure to meet you.”

  “Likewise. I’ve heard a lot about you from Liz,” Xander says.

  “So you’ve come out of hiding, brother?” Christian asks.

  Xander rolls his eyes. “Dinner will start soon. Thank God we don’t have assigned seats at this one.”

  I couldn’t agree more. Because this is an intimate friends and family event, Arthur—I’m sure to the dismay of Antonia—doesn’t do a receiving line or have assigned seats at the table. It’s not like parties at Windsor for Ascot Week, or charity dinners or receptions, where that is a normal part of the proceedings.

  I shift my attention back to Antonia, who is now talking to India. I clench my jaw. India is no doubt making me out to be a complete cow, and I’m sure Antonia is agreeing with utter empathy that she had to even speak to someone as wretched as me.

  Well, they can say what they want. I’m more upset with my parents right now. They knew I planned to introduce them to Roman tonight, and they couldn’t even put aside their own drama to do something important for me.

  To meet the man I love.

  I glance at Roman, who has a worried expression on his face. I need to pull him aside. I need to reassure him that their disappearance is all them and has nothing to do with meeting him.

  As I’m about to lead him away, Arthur taps on his champagne glass to get everyone’s attention. The quartet stops playing, and the conversation in the room comes to a standstill.

  “Good evening,” he says, smiling warmly at everyone gathered in the Green Drawing Room. “Happy Christmas to all of you.”

  Everyone says “Happy Christmas” in return.

  “On behalf of Queen Antonia and myself, thank you for joining us tonight for dinner. As you know, this is a special night for only our closest family and friends, and we are so blessed to have all of you here. With that said, let’s adjourn to the State Room and have a great evening.”

  Everyone applauds Arthur’s speech, and he and Antonia wait at the edge of the doorway to greet guests as they enter. So while there is not an official receiving line, there kind of is an unofficial one.

  And this is when I will introduce Roman to them.

  “Come on, let me introduce you to my aunt and uncle,” I say, leading him away from the squad. I walk by his side as we head to the doorway. His whole body is rigid with tension. My anxiety goes up another notch as a result.

  We fall behind other guests, my heart in my ears with each step we take. I know Antonia won’t be outwardly rude in front of her husband, but she will send her message. Finally, I am standing in front of Arthur, whose blue eyes regard Roman with both an understanding of who he is and genuine warmth in meeting him.

  “Arthur,” I say, dipping into a curtsy. “I’m so happy to be here this evening.” It’s a lie, of course.

  “It’s good to see you, Elizabeth,” he says, smiling brightly at me.

  “Arthur, allow me to present Roman Lawler,” I say.

  He bows to Arthur. “Your Majesty, it’s an honour to meet you.”

  “Roman, Liz has told me so much about you,” Arthur says, extending his hand to shake Roman’s. “I’m glad to meet you at last.”

  “Thank you, Sir,” Roman replies. “I know Liz thinks highly of you.”

  I clear my throat to do the dirty work my parents have left for me. “Arthur, I’m sorry, but my mother has left for the evening. She is feeling unwell.”

  As soon as I mention my mother, Antonia shifts her complete attention to me.

  “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. And Henry?” Arthur asks.

  “He has been delayed, unfortunately,” I lie.

  And I feel like crap for having to lie to a man I deeply respect. Crap for how my parents have put themselves first tonight and put me in this position to cover to Arthur. And crap for having to explain their ungracious behaviour to Roman later.

  One of Arthur’s aides approaches him. “Sir, His Royal Highness Prince Henry has requested to speak with you.”

  I perk up. “Is he here?”

  “No, Your Royal Highness. He’s on the phone.”

  My heart breaks again.

  He’s not coming.

  “I’ll take it,” Arthur says. “Please excuse me.”

  He leaves, and as the squad are still gathered in conversation by the fireplace, I am left to face Antonia alone. I dip into a curtsy. “Antonia, thank you for having us this evening.”

  Her tight-lipped smile is nothing more than a polished smirk, and anxiety begins to shift towards anger inside of me.

  “Yes, so wonderful to see you Liz. And this dress,” she says, carefully eyeing me up and down, “is so… different. It reminds me of tinsel. How quaint.”

  Oh! That was a direct slam, because I know she thinks tinsel is hideous and terribly tacky. She continues before I can respond to her barb. “It’s a pity to hear about your mother this evening, I sincerely hope nothing has made her ill. For both your parents to be so noticeably absent at a family event makes me think she must be seriously under the weather.”

  Her eyes lock on mine. It’s her way of saying she knows it’s a row that is causing their disappearance.

  “Of course, I know they’d love nothing more than to be here,” I lie again.

  “It is the season for sickness,” Antonia says with false understanding.

  “Unless,” sh
e continues, shifting her attention to Roman and staring directly at him, “there are people here they’d rather not interface with.”

  I nearly gasp out loud from her obvious insult. A flush begins to climb up Roman’s neck, and I’m so angry that I can’t find the right words to level back at her.

  Roman bows to her. “A pleasure to meet you, Your Majesty.”

  Antonia’s smirk widens. “Thank you. Do you know what I love about these parties that Arthur has? That we get to interact with such a wide variety of people. Clementine is our first American to attend one. And now we have you, a gardener. It’s so… charming, our new cross-section of attendees.”

  Rage is about to swallow me whole. Roman’s neck is so red that it looks like it would feel hot to the touch.

  “I think we’re the lucky ones,” a voice from behind us says.

  I turn, and from the expression on Xander’s face, it’s obvious he’s heard what Antonia has said.

  “Xander, darling, how lovely to see you,” she says.

  “Mum,” he says, moving around me to greet his mother. He leans in to kiss her cheek, then steps back and gives her a stern look. “I sincerely hope you were welcoming the new cross-section of invitees as a much-needed breath of fresh air, which they both are.”

  Her eyes laser in on Xander, showing disapproval. “Of course I was.”

  “Good. I’d hate to get drunk at dinner and embarrass you in front of our old pollination of friends,” he warns.

  I suck in my breath. He is daring her. If she missteps with Roman, Xander will embarrass her on purpose.

  Antonia’s nostrils flare ever so slightly, her small slip showing that her eldest son has the upper hand now. Xander is the only one with some power over her. She views anything that the heir to the throne does as a reflection upon her. If he misbehaves in front of her closest friends, she’d be mortified.

  “Don’t be silly, Alexander,” she says, using his full name as her own warning back. “Now go on, dinner is about to start.”

  We move out of the doorway, and I turn to Roman. “I’m so sorry,” I murmur.

  “Maybe I’m the one who is sorry,” he says, his eyes locking with mine.

  I can’t breathe as we walk through the Picture Gallery, en route to the dining room. What does that comment mean? Is he sorry to be here? To be in this situation?

  Is he realising he’s sorry to be with me?

  “She should back off now,” Xander says to us quietly, interrupting my panicked thoughts. “Nothing gets Mum to behave more than the idea that I won’t.”

  We enter the Blue Drawing Room, which we must pass through to enter the State Dining Room, and under a normal situation, I’d love to stop and show Roman the Table of the Great Commanders, but my mind is a racing mess of fear. I need to have a private conversation with him, to talk about that comment and reassure him that all of this will pass with time.

  Roman is silent as we walk with Xander, and soon we are entering through the doorway of the State Dining Room. It is fully lit for a Christmas celebration. The chandeliers are aglow, bathing the red room in light. The long table is set with elaborate candelabras, bowls of sugared fruits, and greenery. Each place setting is set with precision, each piece of cutlery spaced to an exact measurement. Menu cards adorn each place setting, an—

  Wait. Why are people walking around studying the table instead of sitting down?

  I gasp. Those are place cards.

  My face grows hot. We’ve never, ever had place cards at this party in all the years I’ve come to it. It’s supposed to be sit where you want, as we’re all here to enjoy the night.

  I glance towards the doorway, where Antonia is entering the room with Lady Violet Clark-Hampton, one of her closest friends. As they are talking, her eyes meet mine from across the room. A triumphant smile passes over her face.

  She’s done this to torture Roman.

  With panic rising, I now fear who she has seated him with.

  “What is this?” Christian asks, glancing down at the table and picking up a name card.

  “Oh, well played, Mother,” Xander says under his breath.

  I see the understanding in Christian’s eyes. “She’s separating Liz and Roman. Sounds familiar, doesn’t it, Clementine?”

  I flash back to the party at Windsor during Ascot, where Antonia seated Clementine as far away from Christian as she could. She made the fatal mistake of putting Clementine with Victoria instead of someone who would make her uncomfortable. Antonia won’t make that mistake twice. She’ll put Roman with someone who will make him miserable.

  “Roman,” Clementine says, dropping her voice, “this isn’t about you. Anyone who is outside of this world is treated like this. I was, too.”

  Roman peers down the length of the table. “Right.”

  I hatch a plan to switch places with someone seated next to Roman, but before I can speak, Antonia approaches us.

  “Please, take your seats,” she says smoothly. “Unless there is a problem with your seat.”

  “Yes,” I say, “Th—”

  “Liz, let’s find our seats,” Roman says, cutting me off.

  I stare at him. His eyes are dark. He’s upset. But right now, I don’t know if it’s with me or the seating arrangement.

  “Excuse me,” Lord Gordon Oliver says. “I believe this is my seat.”

  Roman walks around the table, searching for his name. I follow behind him, wishing I could speak, but with so many ears now around us, I don’t dare say a word.

  I spot mine, and I’m wedged in a seat between India’s mother and Lady Violet. While normally I would say this was the worst seat at the table, I know it’s not. Antonia will have saved that for Roman.

  He continues to search for his name. At the opposite end of the table, we find his place. On one side of him is my grandmother, the dowager queen, who will hate him. And on the other side is India.

  Oh, no. No, no, no. Grandmother will be rude enough, but after what happened in the Picture Gallery between me and India? She will do everything she can to make him feel like he’s not worthy of being here.

  “No,” I say out loud.

  “I’m fine,” he says firmly.

  “No, I’m not allowing this,” I continue, not caring who hears me.

  Roman puts his hand on my arm and lowers his head towards my ear. “Stop treating me like I need protection. Just stop it.”

  I freeze from his words. Roman is angry. Irritated. Or both.

  I’m rooted to my spot, as people find their places and take a seat. I stare down at the menu card, all in French, and I know Roman doesn’t know French. I think of how awful this would be, stuck on the other end of the table, with no one who wants to talk to you.

  Grandmother approaches, and as she sees me standing with Roman, her face draws into a scowl. I’ve seen that scowl before. She used to use it on Clementine, until Arthur told everyone to get on board or risk losing Christian.

  But my father isn’t here to support me, I think with anguish. On a night when he knew I would need him, his irritation with my mother superseded me.

  The frown remains intact as Grandmother reaches us.

  “Grandmother,” I say, dipping into a curtsy.

  “Darling Elizabeth,” she says, leaning forward and kissing my cheek. “What’s this I hear about your father being indisposed?”

  I shake my head. “I heard he was delayed. Mum went home ill.”

  She arches an eyebrow but says nothing.

  “Grandmother, I’d like you to meet my boyfriend, Roman Lawler,” I say proudly. “You will get to know him during dinner tonight, as he is seated next to you.”

  Roman quickly bows. “Your Royal Highness, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” he says.

  She locks her eyes on him. “You’re quite away from the potting shed tonight, aren’t you?”

  “Grandmother!” I hiss.

  “No, she’s right,” Roman says evenly. “It’s a long way from Shepherd’s Bush to Buckin
gham Palace.”

  “A gardener. From Shepherd’s Bush. Dating my granddaughter? Dear God, I need a drink,” she says at that news.

  My face flushes red with anger. I love my grandmother, but her superiority complex is an ugly side of her that I hate.

  She’s my grandmother. And the dowager queen. This is a dinner thrown by the king. We’re in Buckingham Palace.

  But I don’t care. I’m not allowing her to treat Roman like this.

  “To be honest, you’re lucky to be sitting next to a man like Roman,” I snap. “And he’s the one who will need a drink before you do if that is your attitude towards getting to know him.”

  “Liz!” Roman gasps.

  My grandmother’s face reddens. “I can see he’s already changed you. And not for the better.”

  Roman’s face darkens as he watches the exchange. He politely pulls out the chair for my grandmother, who accepts it with a huff, and then he turns to me. “I think it’s best,” he says, his voice low, “that you go and sit down now.”

  I feel tears prick my eyes. Now it’s wrong to defend him? Am I supposed to stand by meekly and let my grandmother humiliate him? Apparently I’m only allowed to be fiery, passionate Liz when he wants me to be?

  Anger takes over. “Perhaps it is.”

  I turn around, and nearly bump into India as I do.

  “Oh, Liz, you seem upset,” she says, drawing her lower lip into a glossy pout. “Sad that you won’t get to sit with your day labourer?”

  This time, I don’t defend Roman. I brush past her, angry at this whole situation. I’m angry at my parents. At Antonia. India.

  Worst of all, now I’m angry at Roman.

  I go and take my seat, not even daring to glance down towards the end of the table where he is with India and Grandmother.

  As soon as everyone is seated, the courses begin. I put on my Princess Elizabeth best, forcing myself to be engaged in conversation with people I do not like, all for the sake of what people expect from me. I might be pissed off and upset, but this is Arthur’s night. I won’t ruin this dinner for him.

  By the time the second course has come out, my anger has subsided. All I want is to talk to Roman. This evening has been stressful and exhausting, but I want him to understand that I had his best interests at heart. By pushing back, I showed how much I loved him. Grandmother did not have permission to be rude to anyone, let alone to my boyfriend, and I want to apologise for all of the awful treatment he has received this evening.