Page 41 of Royally Wed
“You two go on. I need to get back to the palace. So many things to do before Saturday!” Saturday. The wedding.
Oh God.
“Good-bye, darling.” Holden reached to give her arm a pat, but over his shoulder she could see the conductor and Asher engaged in a terse conversation in a small room off the lobby.
“Enjoy the music. It’s quite wonderful,” Amelia said, drifting towardthe exit.
She paused for a moment while Holden and Wilhelmina headed to the auditorium, silently forbidding herself fromglancing in Asher’s direction until they were fully out of sight. Once they were gone, she allowed herself a tiny peek.
Whatever was happening in the small room didn’t look good. The conductor—Mr. March, apparently—was talking and gesticulating wildly while Asher stood listening,stone-faced and silent. She couldn’t tell what was being said, but she got the distinct feeling Asher’s performance hadn’t been up to par.
She disagreed. Strongly.
Granted, his playing hadn’t had the same magical quality that it had in private. It had been a little tentative. He seemed to be holding back for some reason. But he was a genius. Couldn’t this horrible Mr. March see that? And thiswas rehearsal. She was sure Asher would be brilliant on the big day.
Her wedding day.
For a moment she envisioned the Abbey overflowing with flowers and guests in brightly colored fascinators and felt a familiar yet annoying pang of... something. Dread? Disappointment? Guilt?
All three probably. But she squared her shoulders and ignored it. She didn’t like the way Mr. March was talking toAsher. She was halfway tempted to do something about it.
She wouldn’t, obviously. That would be inappropriate. Borderline crazy. Simply showing up at rehearsal unannounced had been risky enough.
Risky, but worth it.
Asher hadn’t made any outward indication that he knew her. But that simple skin-to-skin contact had beenunmistakably intimate, especially when he’d taken his thumb and run it slowlyalong the hidden inside of her palm. That’s the moment she knew she hadn’t been imagining things. They had a connection of some kind.
They still did.
Not that it mattered. After the wedding, she’d certainly never see him again. But at least now she knew.
He cared.
So did she. Why else would she be standing there in Cadogan Hall at the moment?
Whywasshe still standing there?
Amelia sighed,turned, and headed for the door. She was a princess. People stalked her, not the other way around. The fact that she’d manufactured an excuse to crash Asher’s rehearsal shouldn’t be satisfying on any level. It should be humiliating.
She squared her shoulders and marched across the smooth tile floor. Her security officer, Ben again, nodded as she approached and reached for the door. But as heheld it open for her, her footsteps inexplicably veered off-course.
Ben frowned as she walked right past him, toward the room where Asher and the conductor were still having their awkward tête-à-tête.
What am I doing?Had she lost her mind?
Yes, apparently she had.
“Excuse me for interrupting, gentlemen,” she said brightly, joining their meeting without bothering to knock.
At the sound ofher voice, the conductor’s head whipped around quickly enough to give him a case of whiplash. Good.Amelia didn’t particularly like him at the moment.
“Your Royal Highness,” he blurted. He gaped at her for a second before bowing at the waist.
Amelia took the opportunity to glance at Asher. As usual, she couldn’t get a read on what was going on in his head. He didn’t move, didn’t say a word.He stayed put with his arms crossed and an impassive look on his face. Their eyes met, and something in his gaze hardened.
She felt very silly all of a sudden. Asher was a grown man. A world-class cellist. He could take care of himself. This wasn’t the palace, and Mr. March wasn’t an unruly corgi. It wasn’t just the two of them in their pajamas anymore.
She’d miscalculated. Clearly.
