Page 54 of Royally Wed
“No, thank you. It’s just a little warm in here, that’sall.” More lies. When would it end?
Now. It’d endnow.
From this point forward, Amelia was going to be the perfect bride. The perfect daughter. The perfect princess. Why, oh why, did Princess Naughty have to rear her ugly head every time Amelia thought she had her life on track?
“I’ll speak to someone about adjusting the temperature in the room.” Her secretary’s gaze flitted up and down thetable, sagging beneath the weight of so many gifts. “Then I’ll help you with the letter writing.”
“Thank you, but I’d prefer to finish it myself.” It was the least she could do. Besides, it would help her stay focused onthe wedding. And Holden.
She tried not to think about the fact that kissing Holden didn’t feel anything like kissing Asher. That didn’t mean anything. She’d never had an experiencelike the one she’d had with Asher in her entire life. With anyone. So it really wasn’t fair to compare kissing her groom to kissing a total stranger. Because that’s what Asher was, technically. A stranger. She’d known him for less than a week. It was no wonder what had happened felt so seductively foreign. She’d fallen under the spell of something new and different. It didn’t mean a thing.
“Verywell, then. I’ll leave you to it,” the secretary said. She gave Amelia a final penetrating look before swishing out the door.
Amelia sighed. Alone at last. Well, sort of. Willow sashayed into the room just as her assistant exited. The dog sniffed the air a few times as she glanced around the room.
“Looking for someone?” Amelia muttered under breath.
Willow let out a woof.
“Well, he’s not here,”Amelia said. “And you can forget about finding him anywhere in the vicinity ever again.”
The corgi stared at her with her usual expression of disdain, but this time it seemed more personal. Either that, or Amelia was fully losing her mind. Either possibility seemed feasible.
She redirected her attention to the thank-you note she’d just begun, but Willow didn’t budge. She kept standing just insidethe doorway with her unwavering gaze trained on Amelia.
Halfway through the second paragraph, Amelia slammed down her pen and locked eyes with the dog. “Look, I’m sorry. It has to be this way.”
She was apologizing.
To a dog.
When had her life become so ridiculous?
Willow let out a dramatic doggy sigh, shuffled toward Amelia, and plopped into a dejected pile of fur at her feet. Amelia reacheddown to stroke the corgi’s head and her throat grew tight. She’d never known Willow to become attached to anyone before. Not even the queen.
“I know you like him,” she whispered. “I like him, too. But we just can’t, okay?”
Why was this so hard? She barely knew the man.
Enough. Willow might have the luxury of wallowing, but Amelia didn’t. She had a wedding to prepare for. A marriage. She swallowedaround the lump in her throat and got back to the task at hand, writing one note after another while doing her best to ignore the crestfallen weight of Willow’s head on the toe of her Chanel flat.
Two hours after she’d begun, she’d made her way through four pages of the spreadsheet. Most of the gifts had been somewhat ordinary—china, crystal, silver—with the occasional extravagant exception.Midway through the fifth page though, she came upon an entry that gave her pause.
Engraved pocket watch.
Amelia frowned. It seemed like a personal present, most likely meant for Holden rather than the two of them. So many gifts had been arriving at the palace. Perhaps it hadended up in the wedding present inventory by mistake.
She glanced right to identify the bearer of the gift.Lady WilhelminaWentworth.
Amelia frowned. She’d already written a thank-you card to Lord and Lady Wentworth for a silver-plated punch bowl. Why would there be another gift from the same couple?
She checked the list again to make sure she wasn’t seeing things. Nope. Lady Wentworth’s name was right there in black and white. The fact that there was no mention of her husband’s name alongside it seemed odd.
Whywould Wilhelmina give Holden an engraved pocket watch?
Amelia knew Lady Wentworth and Holden were old friends. Maybe the watch was a private joke of some kind, or something reminiscent of their days on the riding circuit. It probably had a horse head on it or something.
Amelia skipped the entry and moved on to the next one. But her gaze kept flitting back to Lady Wentworth’s name.
