The dress was angled so she could see the back, and saw the train flared from the top of the bodice rather than from the skirt itself, which simply pooled around her feet.
“Do you like the colors of this dress? The fabrics?” he asked, and when she nodded, he told the seamstresses something.
Perry knew it could be constituted as rude, but she also knew it wasn’t meant that way.
Veronians had two national languages. Veronian and English—thanks to all the rich ex-pats who took advantage of Veronia as a tax haven. Everyone always spoke English in her presence unless they wanted to adapt a more compatible tone.
“We can have the train in the Seville lace, ma’am, and the rest of the dress in the silk,” the seamstress said, smiling at her.
Perry was amused to note the woman was relieved; the owner of the fashion house apparently didn’t want her name attached to this monster of a dress either.
“That would be perfect,” she told the designer, who beamed with delight.
Marianne tapped her foot. “How long will all this take? We don’t have time for this, George. If you were going to be so fussy, you should have come earlier.”
“Perry usually has a voice in her head,” was his waspish retort. “I didn’t think she’d need backup to deal with you, Mother.”
Marianne rolled her eyes. “She’s quite at ease with me, child. Just not when it comes to the wedding.”
Perry grimaced, because her future mother-in-law wasn’t wrong.
In her mind, Perry believed she had no right to argue when she didn’t have a damn clue about what was going on.
Marianne, on the other hand, had not only been through this herself but was guiding her through the assault course… to ignore her seemed churlish.
“Well, that doesn’t excuse your eyes. Do you need to go to the optician or something?”
Marianne turned pink. “My eyes are fine.”
“They’re certainly not if you think that dress is beautiful.”
Marianne glowered at him, then turning on her heel, nose pricking the air, stalked out of the room.
Louisa Patrice heaved a world-weary sigh, shook her head at George, then took off after the Queen. As far as Perry had seen, the woman rarely said a word. And it wasn’t because with Marianne she couldn’t get a word in edgewise. She was just perennially silent.
When Marianne had disappeared, tension flooded from the room and everyone remaining breathed a little easier. Well, not George. He seemed as unaffected as usual.
With the Queen having departed, Cassie climbed to her feet and strolled over. She whistled at the sight of the design and crooned, “Much better.”
George elbowed her gently in the side. “You should have told me mother was being harsh on Perry.”
“She isn’t being harsh,” Perry instantly countered. “If anything, she’s being very nice.” Which was the truth.
If you didn’t take into account the woman had tried to sneakily snatch custody away from Perry of children she didn’t even have yet…
“Marianne is set in her ways,” Cassie muttered, her eyes still on the design. She murmured something to the seamstress who nodded, and a panel of lace made an appearance at the front of the dress. “That’s better,” she declared.
George, head tilted to the side, studied the design, too, and nodded, sporting a beatific smile as he did. “Perfect.”
Cassie snorted. “I didn’t realize you had such an interest in fashion, George.”
“It’s amazing what one picks up in the US,” was all he said, his reply lofty.
Perry laughed, then joked, “He’s the best friend a girl could have, Cassie. I swear, he could only be better if he was gay.”
When both women collapsed in laughter at that, George just grunted and declared, “I’ve just saved the day and you’re picking on me. How’s that fair?”
“Who said life was fair, bud?” Cassie retorted, a wicked gleam in her eyes.
“Jesus, the day you two met was a day Edward will rue, won’t he?” came his wry rejoinder.
Cassie and Perry glanced at one another and smiled. Widely.
He was right, Perry realized.
Incredible though it seemed, she’d made a friend. One with as slick a sense of humor as her own.
A new dress, the need to ride George like he was a horse, and the realization that Cassie wasn’t just an acquaintance with an interest in her because of Edward… could the day get any better?
Chapter Thirteen
A hand trailed over his shoulder, delicate fingers trickling down over the length of his arm until they captured his wrist.
“What are you doing?” he asked, amused when she clung and wouldn’t let go.
“Saving you.”
“Saving me from what?” George turned to Perry with a cocked brow. “Didn’t realize that I was the damsel in distress this time.”
She huffed, and her eyes narrowed. He knew her squeaky voice was about to make an appearance—as it usually did when he wound her up. “I wasn’t a damsel in distress.”
“No. You were a damsel in ‘this dress,’” he teased, loving how her eyes sparkled with both merriment and exasperation. “You needed me to save you,” he continued in a singsong voice. “Don’t lie.”
She scowled at him. “I don’t lie. Not to you, anyway.”
The amendment had him snorting. “What about Edward and Xavier?”
“Nope. I don’t lie to them either. To your Environmental Agency, on the other hand, I will.”
His eyes flared in concern. “Why are you lying to them? Don’t they need to know facts?”
She huffed again. “Like I’m going to tamper with evidence, George. I simply meant that though I want to tear them all, individually, a new one, I shall lie and smile and be polite when I want to tell them they’re all morons and need to find new jobs.”
George squinted at her. “You do know that’s just being two-faced.”
She jerked a shoulder. “Two-faced, lying, all means the same thing.”
“Well, the most important lesson they’ll never teach you… to be a royal, you need to be two-faced as fuck.”
She grunted. “Like I didn’t guess that.”
“Talking to boring politicians, dim-witted diplomats, and stroking everybody’s ego all the damn time…” He groaned, then dramatically flung his hand up to his brow and whimpered, “I do declare, it’s a hard lot being a prince.”
“Okay, Scarlett, let’s calm this down.” Perry giggled as she propped her chin on his shoulder. “Whatcha doin’?”
“Trying to figure out what I can do while I’m here. If Mother sends me on another hospital tour, I won’t be responsible for my actions.”
Perry whacked his arm. “That’s not nice. Those kids loved meeting you.”
He grunted. “I loved meeting them too. It was the goddamn Shadow Minister of Health that ruined it for me.”
“What was he doing there?”
“Exactly,” he retorted angrily. “He had no place there. They made my visit into a political movement, and even though I understand why, it still pisses me off.”
“Okay, you might understand why, but I don’t.”
“Next year’s an election year. If I’m not careful, every visit I attend will suddenly have a Shadow Minister popping up out of nowhere.”
She dipped her head deeper over his shoulder so there was no evading her scowl. “Why would they do that?”
“Because they want the public to see we have ties to the Socialist party.”
“And the Conservatives are in now, right?” she asked, seeking clarification.
“Yes. But the names don’t make much sense. Our Social party is like the US Democrats. The Conservatives are Republicans, and then we have the Liberals who are very much like Liberatarians.”
“That’s not too difficult for me to make sense of,” she jibed, then her brow cleared as she asked, “So, basically, the Democrats want everyone to know they’re best buds with th
e DeSauviers.”
“Yes. And considering De Montfort just made a political stand, I guess it’s more important than usual.”
“I read about that in the papers last week and I meant to ask you what it meant. You guys never raised the topic with me so I didn’t think it mattered, then ‘wedding dress-gate’ happened and I got sucked into some reports...” She shrugged— there was no denying Perry had been busy of late.
George knew because he’d helped her mock up a schedule that reminded him of a school timetable.
“The Prime Minister getting chummy with the head honcho of our major extremist group doesn’t exactly inspire confidence in him as a leader next year. Not when public sentiment is purely on our side.”
She tensed behind him. “Surely that’s not allowed.”
“Ya think?” he said with a snort. “I’m not sure what the hell’s going on. How they even got a snapshot of that is beyond me.”
“Doesn’t that break your anti-privacy laws?”
“No. Politicians aren’t as covered by those laws as most. It’s a part of the office they’re voted into; they’re supposed to be available to their voters at all times.”
“Well, that sucks,” she retorted.
“The pay’s good though,” he mocked, then grimacing, continued. “Drake’s been investigating ever since, but the man De Montfort met with has gone underground.”
“What about De Montfort? He’s resigned, hasn’t he?”
“Not yet. It’s on the cards though. His party’s certainly starting to make those demands, but he hasn’t heeded their call.”
“Well, this is a clusterfuck.”
“You’re telling me,” he said on a laugh that held zero amusement. “And here’s me bitching about the opposition inviting themselves to my visits… I just don’t like being used.”
“What about if I use you?”
He turned his head to the side. “Is that a promise?”
She laughed and her hand slid over his belly, then aimed downward to cover his shaft through his pants.
“Does that feel like a promise?”
He pondered that a second. “I don’t know. I think it feels more like action.”
She rubbed her cheek against his; the move was distinctly feline and had him shuddering in response as all his nerve endings flared to life. Her lips trailed a hot path over his jaw, along his chin until they reached his own. When their mouths could finally connect, they breathed into the kiss and that breath was loaded with a sense of relief as well as a sense of homecoming.
Almost as though that was too much for her, Perry pulled back and pressed her forehead to his temple. “God. I sometimes wonder how I survived without this for so long.”
He swallowed, because he could empathize. “We were stupid.”
“You were holding out on me.”
“I was,” he confessed. “Do you hate me for it?”
“Hate you for holding out for your brother?” She let out a deep sigh. “How could I? When I love him, too.”
He stilled. “That’s a new development.”
“Not really,” she whispered, rubbing her forehead against his so that wispy strands of her hair tickled his jaw and throat. “It feels like it’s been building forever. With Xavier too.”
Relief swelled inside him. “I knew Xavier was different. You’re not the one-night stand kind of girl.”
She huffed. “Whatever gave you that idea?”
“Years of friendship?” he teased. “That was the biggest clue. I don’t think, in all the time I’ve known you, you slept with anyone as fast as him.”
She shrugged. “We connected.”
“You never connect.”
“I was mad at you. You’d left me to the masses to go and talk to boring politicians.”
“I had no choice,” he countered waspishly. “You think I want to talk to those boring bastards?”
She snickered. “‘Want’? Don’t you mean ‘wanted’?”
“The tense is relevant for today or four months ago,” he retorted, but his lips twitched. “I never want to talk to those boring fuckers.”
“I was mad at you, regardless of whether you deserved it or not, and I was tired of feeling so messed in the head about you. It’s irritating. All those years of unrequited love? Of lost passions? It hurts after a while. Then Xavier was there, and he made me feel…different.”
“Bastard. Charmed you out of your panties.”
She chuckled. “I wouldn’t go that far. I was the one who charmed him out of his briefs.”
George stilled. “What does that mean?”
“It means he was a perfect gentleman. I was the one who came onto him.” His mouth rounded, but she popped his bottom lip with a finger. “Don’t look so astonished. I am capable of making the first move.”
His eyes flared. “I need to see this. The patented Perry seduction.”
She flushed. “Shut up.”
“Never,” he teased, reaching for her mouth and groaning with delight as their lips met.
He sank into the kiss, not needing to take it further, not needing it to go anywhere it didn’t need to.
He just fell into her. Fell into the warmth of her, the depth of her love. Knowing she felt the same for Edward, and Xavier too—though, granted, that had been a miscalculation on his part—filled him with a relief so deep, it felt like it touched his soul.
He’d never loved a woman like he loved Perry. He wanted to give her the world. Wanted her to look down and know he’d give her everything, all that he was and ever would be, just to have her at his side.
As her tongue tangled with his, twining and teasing, the door at his back opened. The slight whoosh of sound acted as a trigger. He immediately pulled back and Perry shot upright.
She wiped her mouth quickly before she turned around. George peered over his shoulder and saw his mother was scowling down at her cellphone.
“George, do you know where Perry is?” she asked, sounding almost absentminded—considering his mother was never absentminded, the tone was decidedly unusual.
He cocked a brow—but inwardly, he was so relieved her focus was elsewhere that he felt sick. Jesus. “Look up. She’s here.”
When Marianne did as bade, Perry waved a hand at her, and cheerfully asked, “Everything okay, Marianne?”
There was an irony to the fact he, Edward, and Xavier were more pissed at Philippe and Marianne than Perry was about the prenuptial agreement and how they’d tried to trick her into signing away her parental rights in legalese so long and drawn out even a contract lawyer would be cross-eyed at the end of it.
None of them had raised the subject though. Mostly, George thought, because the three men knew Perry would never divorce Edward, so the prenuptial clauses would never come to light.
Still, that didn’t make it right. It was just a sign that his parents were willing to be devious when it came down to protecting their sons. And as Perry had told him before, her understanding still boggling his mind a little, who could blame them, considering their past?
His mother blinked, smiled vaguely, looked down at her cellphone once more. “Yes, yes.”
“Then…” Perry shot him a look. “Why were you looking for me?”
Marianne was lost once more to her phone until George cleared his throat. “Playing “Candy Crush” again, mother?”
Perry snickered, and that seemed to draw Marianne’s attention for a small pucker marred her brow. “Dear, I’ve told you about that. And snorting too. It isn’t ladylike to do either.”
Perry heaved out a sigh. “Yes, Marianne. I remember. I didn’t think it mattered in private.”
“What becomes second nature in private will become first nature in public,” she recited, and George knew that must have been one of the many bullshit lessons she’d received at finishing school. “Anyway, dear,” Marianne murmured, sending a warmer smile to the pair of them. “I need your help.”
“You do?” Perry asked warily.
“Yes. Come,” Marianne beckoned, holding out a hand.
Perry shot him a beseeching look, but he ignored it. He just grinned at her. “We can talk later,” he said, mock-severely, but she glowered at him over her shoulder as she strode over to the door where his mother was waiting for her.
“I’ll get you back for this,” she mouthed.
His grin widened. “Can’t wait,” he returned, then blew her a kiss.
As the door closed behind him, his attention reverted to the information in front of him. He’d done well for himself in the States. Had made a name in certain markets, and it was a name that wasn’t tainted by his family or his status.
He was damn good at what he did, and the contracts in his hands proved that.
Four investment brokerages had contacted him. The hedge funds they managed handled billions of euros, and truth was, working in Veronia would probably do his reputation good.
The number of wealthy elite here, per capita, was staggering. For every two people with average incomes, there were eight more living affluent lifestyles.
Veronia was, putting it frankly, stinking rich.
Which was why Perry was pissed when the EA claimed they couldn’t afford to repair the dams.
There was no doubt about it: the government needed more involvement from the DeSauviers. His family wasn’t Veronia’s sole protection against the incompetency of democracy, but it was a start.
George wasn’t an autocrat. But having viewed close hand that the democratic way inspired nothing but idiocy, he wasn’t entirely sure how to best rule a nation with the most efficacy.
All he knew, from his bird’s eye view of governing a nation, was that every new government that found its way into power made a bigger mess of the job. Without the royals to protect the people, he’d despair for Veronia.
Which was what made the whole situation with the UnReals totally remarkable.
They were so besotted with the past, they were blind to the future.
Shaking his head at his own musings, he wondered if he was being selfish by trying to find a private sector position.
Lifting a hand, he rubbed at his temple. Duty, it was everywhere he damn went. The only place he’d been free of it was the US, but even then, he’d been on borrowed time.
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