by Beth Merlin
I took a deep breath. “I just need to get through the next few days.”
“Speaking of the next few days, when am I seeing you?”
I turned through the pages of Gemma’s schedule. “I’m pretty much spoken for until the day of the wedding.”
“Shame. Well, Ms. Codswild, what if I were to just show up at your door, unannounced?”
A smile crept across my face. “If Napoleon Cheshire were to show up, I suppose I’d have to let him in.”
“Duly noted. I’ll keep that in mind.”
“I hope you do,” I said. “Let me hang up, though. I have to meet Jamie in the lobby in half an hour, and after that, we’re in fittings most of the day.”
“Go. Go. I know you’re crazy, but I’m glad you’re here. I can’t wait to have you on my arm in a few days,” Gideon said before hanging up.
In the last few months, things between Gideon and me had really blossomed. He’d made several more trips to New York, and I’d made several visits to London, spending as much time with him as my busy schedule permitted. We found ourselves in an easy rhythm, and slowly but surely, I was falling for Viscount Satterley.
I unpacked and left the room to meet Jamie down in the lobby. He was sitting on a large leather sofa, holding two steaming cups of coffee.
“How’d you have time to do a coffee run?”
He handed me one cup. “Nespresso machine in my room.”
“Remember that one in the break room of Top Designer you had to teach me how to use?” I peeked out the lobby’s curtains and onto the street, which was swarming with paparazzi.
Jamie closed the curtain and took my hand to walk outside. “We’ve come a long way, baby,” he said.
I took one more peek out the window and shook my head. “We sure have.”
After a short drive, our black cab pulled up to the address Jamie read off Gemma’s itinerary. Up until now, we’d been using Victoria’s family home in Kensington for most of our meetings and all of our fittings. With so many relatives and friends coming in, it wasn’t practical to keep working out of Victoria’s sunroom, so Gemma had secured us a small studio. It wasn’t much bigger than my apartment, but it was more than enough for our needs this week.
Jamie pulled the inventory sheet out of his dossier and started checking numbers against garment bags while I checked the accessories inventory list against the boxes stacked in the corner of the room. To my surprise, Anna Wintour had come through. A representative from Cartier was coming by later in the week to deliver several carats of jewels to be affixed to the collar and cuffs of the dress. The veil was just about complete, but Jamie wanted to see it on Victoria before finishing off the hems to ensure it laid just how he’d imagined.
“All good on my side,” Jamie said. “All the dresses are here and accounted for.”
I closed up the last box. “We’re good here too. All the accessories and embellishments made it.” I looked down at my watch. “Victoria will be here in about an hour, so let’s unpack the wedding dress and have that ready.”
“I was thinking the same thing. I’m hoping we can get away with one more fitting today, and then a final one on Thursday.
I crossed my fingers and held them up in the air. “As long as she doesn’t have too many changes and hasn’t lost too much weight since our last trip, we should be golden.”
Jamie walked his phone over to me. “This is from last night. Victoria was at the Red Coat Club. She looks good. Maybe she’s lost a few pounds, but nothing too drastic.”
I took his phone and looked at the photo. Under the picture was the caption, “Victoria Ellicott spends one of her last single nights out on the town with sister, Annabelle Ellicott, and Perry Gillman.”
I handed the phone back to Jamie. “Yeah, she looks great.”
“What, what is it?”
“Nothing.”
Jamie scrolled down past the picture. “Sorry, Gi, I wouldn’t’ve shown it to you if I’d seen that.”
“No, no, it’s fine. I’m used to seeing their names together now.”
Jamie rubbed my forearm and went back to his side of the room to begin unpacking the wedding gown while I set up the dress form. For the next hour, we worked in tandem getting everything organized for Victoria’s fitting.
Forty-five minutes later, Victoria came rushing into the studio, Gemma and Annabelle close behind.
“I think we lost the paparazzi somewhere on Charing Cross Road.” She gave me a double kiss on the cheek and pulled off her Burberry plaid poncho and sunglasses. She tossed them onto the table in the center of the room and looked to the doorway. “At least I hope we did.”
Gemma sat down on the beat-up mustard-yellow settee the former tenants had left behind. “We did,” she said. “Barely.”
Annabelle took the seat next to her. I hadn’t seen her in months—not since the weekend we spent together at Badgley Hall. She looked gorgeous. Her hair was a few shades lighter than her signature chestnut color, and her skin was perfectly sun-kissed like she’d just came back from a few days in St. Tropez or somewhere equally fabulous.
Victoria crossed the room to look over the racks of clothing. “I can’t believe all this is for me. You both have absolutely outdone yourselves.”
“Wait ’til you see the wedding gown,” Jamie said.
Victoria clapped her hands together and squealed.
Jamie motioned for Victoria to follow him to the changing area, and I went to get my alterations kit from one of the boxes. Annabelle followed me.
“Gigi, what are you doing Tuesday night?” she asked.
Tuesday was the one night Jamie and I had free to go look for a dress for the wedding reception. “I think I have plans,” I answered.
“With Gideon?” she asked.
“What? No.” I was still thrown by the idea she knew so much about my current relationship, yet nothing about my prior one. “With Jamie, to do some shopping.”
“Cancel them. I’m inviting you to Victoria’s hen party.”
“That’s really sweet of you, but I know it’s just close friends and family.”
“No. It’s all the people who love Victoria and who Victoria loves, and she loves you and Jamie. She wants both of you there.”
“We’re gonna be swamped with all this,” I said, motioning around the room.
“You just said you were taking the night off to do some shopping. Victoria will be so disappointed if you can’t make it.”
Just as I opened my mouth to protest, Victoria emerged from behind the makeshift curtain in her wedding dress. Annabelle’s mouth fell open at the same time as Gemma’s.
“What do you all think?” she asked. “Not half bad, right?”
“Oh, Vic, there are no words,” Annabelle said.
Gemma cupped her hands over her mouth. “Breathtaking, just breathtaking.”
Victoria did a slow spin in front of the mirror. “It’s an absolute work of art,” she said, admiring it from every angle.
Jamie winked at me from across the room and I let out the breath I didn’t know I was holding.
Victoria reached down toward the train. “I think we just need a few small adjustments here, and maybe back here.”
I jumped up with my pincushion and knelt beside the dress to pin the hem. When I looked up, Victoria was fiddling with the collar.
Jamie came up behind her and flipped it up. “It should sit like this. The stones will be placed all around at the base of the neckline.”
“Cartier really agreed to loan all those jewels to you?”
“I guess Anna Wintour really does have some pull,” Jamie said, grinning.
Annabelle walked over to examine the dress more closely. “What happens to the gems after the wedding?”
“We’ll replace them with semiprecious replicas of the real thing,” Jamie answered.
I finished pinning the bottom and stood up to address her complaints about the extra material in the back and on the sides.
Victori
a craned her neck around. “Show Annabelle the sketch that inspired the dress.”
“That’s okay, sometimes it’s better when the magician doesn’t reveal all her tricks,” I said, avoiding eye contact with her.
“Please, Gigi,” Victoria said, clasping her hands together. “I want her to understand the whole vision.”
I went to my tote bag and reluctantly pulled out my sketchbook. I turned to the middle and opened to the page with the sketch of Linda in the Elizabeth gown I’d done at Chinooka.
“That’s an Elizabeth I dress,” Annabelle said. “I’ve seen it in Perry’s research.”
“Isn’t it amazing?” Victoria said. “And this lace,” she said, running her hand over the bodice, “was hand embroidered at the Royal School of Needlepoint in Hampton Court Palace.”
Annabelle turned to me. “I didn’t know you were an Elizabeth aficionado?”
I could feel my cheeks heating up. “Me either,” I mumbled.
“We should find some time for you and Perry to connect. He’s going to flip out when I tell him Vic’s dress took its inspiration from an Elizabeth I gown.”
Jamie put his hand on Annabelle’s shoulder. “Maybe don’t say anything. Let’s see if he notices the subtle nod to her on his own.”
“Of course,” she replied.
Victoria turned to Annabelle. “Belles, did you ask them?”
“Ask us what?” Jamie answered.
“If you two will come to my hen party?”
“Really?” Jamie screeched.
“Of course. After all these months of working together, I consider you both good friends. I hope you feel the same about me?” Victoria said with a warm smile.
“Of course we do,” Jamie answered before walking to the clothing rack and pulling the last garment bag off the stand. “I actually have a little surprise for you. I had a feeling you’d want something special for one of your last single nights. I whipped this up a couple weeks ago.” He unzipped the bag to show off the dress inside.
Victoria flew off the pedestal and over to Jamie. “It’s fantastic.”
I picked up the gold-fringed dress and examined it. The workmanship was intricate and absolutely exquisite. “You just whipped this up?”
Jamie shrugged.
Victoria clasped my hand and then Jamie’s. “Well, now it’s settled,” You’re both coming. I won’t hear another word about it.”
And that was how I ended up at the bachelorette party for the future Queen of England.
Chapter Twenty-One
“What are we doing here? It’s after nine—the store’s not even going to be open.”
“I may have done a little name dropping,” Jamie answered. “Although I don’t know why you didn’t just take my suggestion and contact someone at British Vogue. I’m sure they would’ve hooked you up.”
“I’m not going to this wedding as Georgica Goldstein, designer. I’m not looking to make a fashion statement. I just want my Cinderella moment—where she walks into the ballroom and catches the prince’s eye. Although I guess in this case it’s the viscount’s eye.”
“I get it,” Jamie said. “Which is why I called and explained the situation. The owner said he’d keep the store open as late as we need so you can find something to wear.”
I threw my arms around Jamie’s neck. “You’re the best. You know that, right?”
He winked at me. “I do know that. Now, let’s go live out our Pretty Woman fantasy. The store is all ours.”
I took Jamie’s hand, and we walked into the swanky high-end vintage shop I’d found my Givenchy dress at months earlier. The owner and a sales clerk were waiting for us with two glasses of champagne.
“I pulled a few things I thought might be right,” the clerk said. “They’re hanging in the dressing room. If nothing’s to your liking, I have another rack of options over there.”
I looked over at Jamie, who lifted his glass in mock cheers. “Let the games begin,” he said.
I walked into the dressing room, which was covered wall to wall in vintage couture gowns. I pulled the changing curtain to the side and hollered out to him, “I don’t have the first clue where to begin.”
“Go in alphabetical order—start with Chanel end with Valentino,” he yelled back.
Not the worst strategy. I gently took a Chanel gown off the hanger, held it up, and slipped it on. It was a cream silk evening dress with a fringe skirt to the floor. It was sweet and demure. Jamie would hate it.
I came out of the dressing room, and Jamie put his hand up. “No.”
“Really? I think it’s kind of pretty.”
“It is. But no,” he said, shaking his head.
I did a turn in front of the mirror. “You sure?”
“It’s cream, which isn’t white, but it’s still a no-no.” He put his hand on the small of my back and shuffled me back into the dressing room.
I came out in several other options—Dior, Gucci, McQueen. Each dress met with some form of Jamie’s disapproval. I changed into the last gown and yelled to Jamie from inside the dressing room.
“I’m all the way at Valentino, so I hope this is it.”
I emerged in a gathered metallic silk gown with floral appliques, an open back, and a small train. Jamie stood to examine the gown up close before backing away to take the whole look in.
“Now that’s a dress.”
“You like?”
“I love. But there is one small problem with it.”
I turned to examine the back of the dress for pulls or holes. “What’s that? I don’t see anything wrong?”
“You may outshine our designs and the bride.”
I tilted my head. “Be serious. What do you think? It’s too much, right?”
“Victoria didn’t pick Valentino, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t. Go for it. This is your Cinderella dress. I can’t imagine Prince Charming, er, or Earl Charming, not falling more in love with you after he sees you in this stunner.”
After that, Jamie helped me select a tasteful dusty rose-colored Dior suit for the wedding ceremony, with a matching fascinator and a fun Stella McCartney dress for the hen party. We brought the garments up to the register.
I closed one eye and handed over my credit card. “Explain to me again how I can rationalize buying all this?”
“When the event’s over, you’ll sell it all on one of those designer resale websites. The dresses may even be worth more because they attended the royal wedding.”
Jamie had a good point. The store’s owner came out to take a look at my selections.
“Tell me quickly, what’s the damage?” I asked the clerk.
“Don’t worry about it. We want to lend you these items for the wedding,” the owner said, handing me back my card.
“I can’t accept all this. You forget I’m in your same line of work. I know how expensive these dresses are.”
“For the person who dressed our future queen for her wedding, I have to insist.”
“What an incredibly generous offer. Okay, well, let me buy the Valentino at least. I may want to hold on to that one for sentimental reasons,” I said.
“Deal.”
Two nights later, Jamie and I pulled up to the Ellicotts’ home for the hen party. I was surprised to see so few paparazzi. Their home was usually swarming with photographers.
Jamie rolled his window back up. “Gemma planted a story that Annabelle was hosting the hen party in a private room at a nightclub in East London. I’d wager you’d find most of the London press camped out there.”
As was our new routine, we made a mad dash from the car to Victoria’s front door. Gemma let us in before we even had a chance to knock. Jamie handed her a large bottle of Cristal Rose Brut Champagne with a large gold bow tied around it.
“Here, these are for you,” Gemma said, handing us each a sash that said Hen’s Night In along with the date. She motioned for us to follow her into the formal salon.
“Gigi, Jamie—perfect timing,” Vict
oria yelled from across the room. “We’re about to play pin the crown on the prince.” She pointed to a picture of Prince Alexander in a very skimpy European bathing suit that was hanging on the wall.
Victoria was dressed casually in jeans and a “Bride-to-Be” tank top and was holding court on one side of the salon while Annabelle was busy setting up activities on the other. Jamie took two glasses of champagne from a server and passed me one. I took it from him and wandered over to a bookshelf in a far corner. I picked up one of the crystal frames from the shelf and examined the photograph inside.
Annabelle crossed to me from the opposite side of the room. “That’s my mother on her wedding day.”
“When I met your mother, I thought Victoria was her spitting image. But in this picture, you look just like her.”
Annabelle smiled, set the picture back down on the shelf, and turned to the room. “Who’s ready to play the bachelorette version of The Newlywed Game? Vic, your seat awaits.” Annabelle motioned to an armchair decorated to look like a formal throne.
Annabelle picked up a champagne and a pile of index cards from off the table. She downed the glass in two gulps and set it back down before reaching over to the serving tray for another one. She carried the cards and drink to the center of the room and asked everyone to gather round. Jamie took a seat next to Gemma and me on the couch.
“Let’s find out just how well my sister and Alexander know each other. Vic, we asked Alex to answer a series of questions, and you have to guess how he responded.”
Annabelle picked up a bowl of gumballs. “For each answer you guess incorrectly, you have to chew a piece.” Annabelle looked down at her first card. “First question, where did Alex say you two met?”
Victoria narrowed her eyes. “He’s going to say we met at his aunt’s birthday party when we were about fifteen, but we really met in cotillion class when we were six or seven. He didn’t want to dance with me. I was devastated.”
“Let’s see how Alex answered.” Annabelle flipped to the next card. “He said, ‘She doesn’t think I remember, but we met in cotillion class. I did want to dance with her, but I was too shy and nervous to ask.’”