Hand-Me-Down Princess (24 page)

“Thanks.” Despite her best intentions, potential tabloid images continued to push their way to the forefront of her mind. Would they be flattering, as she desperately hoped, or would she, once again, be found wanting at a royal wedding?

Before she could decide which way she thought it would go, the music changed, and the processional began.

* * *

Sweatpants, a long-sleeved t-shirt, and fuzzy socks were an appropriate wedding outfit, right? Lizbeth didn’t see a problem with it, not since she was watching the wedding on television. Chocolate would be an appropriate reception substitute as well.

The wedding would start in about half an hour, but she had a local television station turned on, watching the friends and family of Princess Anastasia and Dr. Fontaine arrive at the cathedral.

“We believe the younger royals from the two other Commonwealth countries will be arriving momentarily. Prince Malachi of Mevendia and his wife, Princess Jessabelle, will be here in their first formal public event together since their own wedding. They’ve made several joint appearances, but behind closed doors at assorted fundraisers and other gatherings. Crown Prince William is rumored to be escorting Queen Christiana of Ravenzario. Princess Yvette is to round out their group, but she rarely has escorts outside of her brothers, and is not expected to have one today.”

The brunette standing just inside the crowd control barriers was one of the reporters who covered the royal families often. Lizbeth had talked with her several times when she was with Malachi. Nothing deep, just confirmation she and the prince were only friends.

“Does Princess Yvette limit her escorts because of the marriage contract?” The host in the studio posed the question to the reporter.

“That is the belief. Though Crown Prince Nicklaus of Ravenzario died many years ago, the contract does not officially expire until the week after the wedding date. The wedding was to be held one week after Princess Yvette’s eighteenth birthday. Once the contract expires, it is expected that she will be seen with non-familial men more often.”

Lizbeth felt sorry for Yvette, but it was less than eighteen months until the wedding date. The girl was still sixteen, after all. On the television, a limo glided to a stop in front of the red carpet.

“Currently arriving are Princes William and Malachi of Mevendia, Princesses Yvette and Jessabelle, also of Mevendia, and Queen Christiana of Ravenzario.”

Lizbeth popped another chocolate in her mouth as she watched Malachi reach back into the car to help his wife. She stopped chewing as she got a good look. She’d spent time with Jessabelle since her haircut, but was that really her? The commentators echoed her thoughts.

“Is that Princess Jesssabelle?” the anchor in the studio asked.

“I believe so,” the correspondent replied, shock coloring her voice. “She seems to have undergone a radical transformation since her last official appearance at the Garden Club less than two weeks ago.” Malachi’s arm settled around Jessabelle’s waist as they waited for the other two women to emerge. “I hesitate to say it, but Princess Jessabelle may have inadvertently upstaged Princess Anastasia, at least to an extent. While everyone will surely be talking about what the bride is wearing and the wedding itself, Princess Jessabelle’s new look will likely run a close second in terms of conversation.”

Just what Lizbeth needed. To hear over and over how good Malachi’s wife looked. To see the picture of them with Malachi holding her close to his side on the red carpet repeatedly.

Maybe it was time to ditch the chocolate, or at least find some good wine to accompany it. Her phone buzzed but she ignored it. It was likely her father wanting to rant about the lovely new look of Prince Malachi’s wife-he never used her name-or he’d realized Jessabelle was the woman she’d been shopping with the week before. He’d asked after her picture appeared on gossip websites, but she’d simply told him “a friend.”

With a sigh, she ignored the rest of the arrivals at the wedding and poured herself that glass of wine. Tears streaked down her cheeks as she watched Princess Anastasia and Dr. Jonah Fontaine pledge their lives to each other. The tears were less sorrow over her lack of royal wedding to Malachi and more the longing to find someone to love her. To look at her the way Dr. Fontaine looked at Princess Anastasia. The way she’d seen Malachi glance at his wife once or twice, though he didn’t appear nearly as smitten as the Montevarian significant others were. Queen Adeline, in her capacity as matron of honor, showed off her growing baby bump. The camera shots of her husband clearly showed that adoration.

As the smiling couple kissed at the end of the ceremony-Princess Anastasia wasn’t the Crown Princess, after all-Lizbeth clicked the button on the remote, turning the television off.

Maybe it was time to reconsider college. Her father had discouraged her, and Lizbeth thought it was because he believed she’d marry Malachi. If so, she wouldn’t have needed a career to fall back on. It seemed that wasn’t going to happen. Taking a second look at university might be a good way to get out from under his thumb.

Her phone buzzed. Lizbeth didn’t want to talk to anyone, but it wasn’t her father’s ring tone, and she didn’t recognize the number. After waffling for a second, she sighed and swiped the answer bar. “Hello?”

“Lizbeth?” The male voice was familiar but she couldn’t immediately place it.

“Yes?”

“This is Robert Padovano. We met a few weeks ago.”

Lizbeth sat up and set her bowl on the coffee table. “Of course. I remember.” But what was he doing calling her? And how had he gotten her number?

“Listen,” he started then hesitated. “I’m sorry, this is incredibly forward of me, since we’ve only been introduced the one time, but I have a dinner to attend this weekend and find myself without a lady to accompany me. I was hoping, perhaps, you would be interested?”

The uncertainty, bordering on fear, in his voice made Lizbeth smile even as her heart raced. “I’d love to,” she answered. But hot on the heels of her statement came the fear of what her father would say if she went out with a man he hadn’t approved of ahead of time.

Robert Padovano certainly seemed to be ambitious enough for her father, but her father seemed to prefer men who had already reached more of that ambition. Besides, Robert was a member of another political party. Oh well. She would tell her father it would have been rude to turn down an up and coming member of Parliament.

“Wonderful.” Robert shook her out of her musing. “I’ll pick you up at six?”

“That sounds lovely.” Lizbeth meant every word. “Can you tell me which event it is? Or what kind of attire I need?”

They spoke for a couple of minutes, going over details of the upcoming evening. A voice sounded behind him, and she could hear the regret through the phone line. “I do apologize, Lizbeth. I am working late this evening, and there’s a matter that needs my attention. I will see you next Friday?” he confirmed.

“I’m looking forward to it.” Lizbeth heard the line disconnect and sat back on the couch, clutching her phone in both hands. A smile crossed her face. “Oh, yes,” she whispered. “I’m definitely looking forward to it.”

Chapter 23

Christiana sat at a table with her Mevendian relatives. William had been most solicitous of her, but not once had he asked about
her
wedding or
her
engagement or where
her
fiancée was. Maybe he was getting used to the fact that she had a significant other, but that he never appeared with her in public. The head table, with the Montevarian royal family, and the table where Christiana sat were both occupied on only one side. That was both good and bad. Good in that there was no one directly across from her to make small talk with. Bad because she almost felt like she was on display.

As it should be, most of the fashion conversations Christiana had heard revolved around Princess Ana. The second most talked about, though, was seated to Christiana’s right. The newest princess of the group had undergone a radical transformation in the recent past. They were right. Jessabelle did look fabulous. Malachi seemed to appreciate it as well. He’d been particularly attentive to his wife.

Or maybe she had never noticed it before. Maybe all men were like that when they were in love and out in public with their wives. She wondered what it would be like at her own wedding. Pressure to set a date had been coming from her assistant and the assorted people involved in the planning. Even Alexander Bayfield had been pressuring her. Every monarch for the last several hundred years had been married in a chapel on his family’s property. He said he needed to know because he had other brides who needed to schedule their weddings as well. He only had a few dates where both of the facilities on the property were still open. She would
not
get married in the barn, of course, but for many reasons, there could be no other weddings that day. Christiana resolved that she would press her fiancée to set a date. He did
not
like being pressured into anything.

“Your Majesty?”

The whispered voice came from her right, but there wasn’t anyone there, but...Princess Jessabelle? “Yes?” Christiana asked, still confused as to why Jessabelle would address her that way.

“I just wanted to say congratulations.” Jessabelle didn’t look her in the eye.

Christiana tilted her head. “Pardon?”

“I heard your good news. That your day is coming. I know it’s not been announced yet, but I did want to congratulate you.”

“Thank you.” Christiana meant it. Had anyone, besides Alexander and Diana, congratulated her? Not very many people knew, but those who did had said nothing. “And I do not believe we have ever had a chance to talk more than a greeting in passing. How are you adjusting to life with the royal family?”

Jessabelle seemed to measure her words before she spoke. “It is very different than what I was used to in my life prior to the wedding.”

“I would imagine so.” Christiana could not imagine, not really, what it would be like without the sometimes prison-like trappings of palace life. “And I must tell you, your makeover is fabulous. I loved your wedding dress and veil, but this hairstyle is wonderful on you.”

Jessabelle’s face turned bright red. “Thanks,” she muttered.

Christiana wanted to smile, but she understood the other woman’s discomfort all too well. The Montevarian royal family had always praised her when appropriate, but her uncle never had. That was one of the things she loved about her fiancée. He always went out of his way to say nice things to her. She spent much of her time with him wishing she would not blush so often. At least he did most of the time. The night he had proposed to her, he had been a bit brusque, but he apologized. That had to mean something, right?

The dinner came to an end. Ana and Jonah led the wedding party then the other royal families to the formal ballroom where the dancing would take place. With her hand tucked snuggly in the crook of William’s arm, Christiana did her best to keep her happy face on. There would be photographs, and it would not do for people to believe her to be unhappy.

But about halfway through the dancing portion of the evening, Christiana found herself with former king Jedidiah, father of the bride, and the man who had been more a father to her than any other.

“How are you, sweetheart?” he asked her, his eyes full of compassion.

“I am well, Jedidiah.” She did her best to sound confident. The reality was she often felt in over her head.

“Would you like me to come and visit for a time? I would never want you to think I was trying to take over, and we both know I will be unable to do so before long. I would be honored to help you find your feet, as it were, to do anything I can to help you.”

Christiana stared at the knot in his tie, praying he would not see the tears pooling in her eyes. It had been a year since the skiing accident accelerated his time line for handing the throne over to Adeline. His physical abilities were declining to the point where the reporters had made a few comments, voicing concern about his well-being. Finally, she shook her head. “No. Thank you for the offer, but this is something I need to do on my own.”

“I understand, but I am always a phone call away.”

“I know. I appreciate it, Jedidiah.”

After a moment, just before the dance ended, he turned serious. “Be certain of the people around you, dear Christiana. There are those who would take advantage of your uncertainty after everything with Henry. Be very, very certain. Trust Tony and Alexander. They have only your best interest at heart.”

“I know they do.” He had not mentioned the most important person in Christiana’s life, but she decided Jedidiah must not know enough about her fiancée to feel comfortable including him.

As the dance ended, Jedidiah gave her a fatherly embrace and pressed a kiss to the side of her head. “You are in my prayers, dear Christiana. That anyone who might still wish you harm will be revealed before it comes to fruition.”

“Thank you, Papa,” she whispered as he turned to dance with his eldest daughter. She had never called him that to his face, but sometimes, she liked to pretend he really was her father. Christiana had never told anyone she missed her own father so much she imagined her foster father was her own.