Page 42 of His Royal Matchmaker

“Formal attire,” the voice adds before hanging up.

Great. A high-pressure dinner where I have to explain why I haven’t made more progress with a reluctant prince. While wearing a fancy dress. Perfect.

At five to seven, I make my way to the Blue Dining Room in one of the dresses I picked up in the city the other day after days of being chronically underdressed. Turquoise and floor-length, it feels like I’m playing dress-up.

The doors open, and a stone-faced butler gives me a slight nod. “Miss Neale. Her Majesty and His Highness await.”

The Blue Dining Room is actually blue — from the velvety walls to the delicate china plates. It’s smaller than I expected, intimate almost, with a table that could seat twelve but is only set for three. Hugo stands when I enter, and his eyes widen slightly.

“Emily,” he says, and the way my name sounds in his deep voice makes my knees wobbly. He’s wearing a dark suit that fits him perfectly, making his shoulders look even broader than usual. “You look… different.”

“Different?” I repeat, unsure if that’s a compliment.

His ears turn pink. “Good different.”

“Emily,” the queen says, saving her son from further embarrassment. She doesn’t stand, but she gives me a small nod. “Please, join us.”

“Thank you for inviting me, Your Majesty,” I say, placing my napkin on my lap like my mother taught me.

Don’t put your elbows on the table. Chew with your mouth closed.Basic stuff, but suddenly I’m terrified I’ll forget everything I know about table manners. Brunch with the queen was one thing, but this feels so much more formal. So much more serious.

“I thought it would be good to check in,” Queen Julia says as servants appear from nowhere to pour wine and place salads in front of us. “Hugo tells me the speed-dating event was… enlightening.”

Hugo coughs into his napkin. “Mother, I said it was interesting.”

“Interesting, enlightening.” She purses her lips the slightest amount, a silent question hanging in the air.

I take a sip of water to buy myself time. “Prince Hugo met several impressive women,” I say carefully. “I’ve already scheduled four follow-up dates for this week.”

“Four?” She looks pleased. “Excellent. Anyone in particular stand out?”

Hugo stares intensely at his salad, spearing a cherry tomato with unnecessary force.

“Lady Sophia seemed particularly compatible with His Highness,” I offer. “She’s well-educated, comes from a respected family, and shares his interest in environmental conservation.”

“Sophia…” the queen muses. “Baron Whitmore’s daughter? Yes, I know her mother. Good family.”

“She talked about trees nearly the whole time,” Hugo mutters.

“And yet you seemed to enjoy it,” I volley back.

“You love trees,” his mother says. “Your father and I couldn’t get you out of them as a child.”

I bite back a smile at the image of little Hugo, climbing trees and getting his royal clothes dirty.

The main course arrives — some kind of roast with vegetables arranged like a work of art. I focus on cutting my meat into perfect little squares while the tension at the table thickens. It feels like I’m failing at my job, even though I know the queen doesn’t blame Hugo’s stubbornness on me — she warned me how resistant he would be to matchmaking, after all.

I’m just not used to failing, along with… well, some… other things.

“Enough matchmaking talk,” Queen Julia says, taking me by surprise. “Emily, we know so little about you beyond your job. What is your life like in Los Angeles?”

I hastily swallow and dab my napkin at the corner of my mouth. “I work a lot, Your Majesty. I wish I could tell you it’s more exciting than that, but the only parties I go to are work-related… the celebrities I meet are clients…”

Her smile is sweet. “And what about a boyfriend? Do you have one?”

“I… I’m usually too busy helping others find love,” I admit. “But someday I’d like to find my perfect match.”

“Everyone deserves that.” For a moment, I see a flash of vulnerability beneath her regal exterior. “Even princes who think they’re too busy with affairs of state.”

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