Page 63 of Royally Wed
Eleanor, situated in the middle of Amelia’s bed with a copy of the latest BritishVogue, frowned. “Did you just say ‘Asher’?”
Amelia shook her head with a tad too much force. “No.”
“You did. I heard you.” Eleanor tossed the magazine aside and climbed down from the bed. “Who’s Asher?”
James interjected. “Will you need anything else, Your Royal Highness? Tea, perhaps?”
God bless him. He wasprobably just trying to change the subject. How many times in the course of the day was he going to have to save her from herself? And when had her life turned into such a royal soap opera?
“I think we’re going to need something much stronger than tea.” Eleanor crossed her arms.
“James, could you bring us the cart, please?”
It had been a long time since Amelia had requested theportable baron wheels, since before her transformation into the perfect princess. She hadn’t missed it as much as she’d expected. The partying had never been as fun as she’d pretended it was, anyway.
Suddenly though, the cart seemed a like a good idea. The best.
James didn’t seem to think so, if his frown lines were any indication. “Whatever you like.”
He slipped out of the room, shutting the door quietlybehind him.
Eleanor lifted an accusatory brow. “What’s going on? You two are acting strange. And again, who’s Asher?”
“No one.” Amelia swallowed around the lump in her throat. “Things are just a little crazy around here. The wedding is tomorrow. I’m losing my mind.” It was probably the truest thing she’d said in recent memory.
Eleanor’s gaze narrowed. “Is that why you’ve been ignoring all mytexts and calls?”
Amelia nodded, grateful for the change in subject, even if it meant directly addressing the awkwardness that had descended over their friendship. “I’m sorry. To tell the truth, I’ve been a little overwhelmed.” It was the understatement of the century. “But wait, what are you doing here, anyway?”
“Did you honestly think I’d take you seriously when you said no hen do?” Eleanorlet out a laugh. “Come on, you know me better than that.”
“I can’t leave the palace. It’s impossible right now. The press is watching my every move.”
Eleanor shrugged. “So? We’ll do it right here.”
As if on cue, James reappeared, pushing the fully stocked drinks cart. Eleanor grabbed a silver martini shaker and began dropping ice cubes into it. Beyond the cart, Amelia could see Willow in thehallway, pawing at the closed door to Asher’s bedroom.
“Will that be all, Miss?” James asked. He’d gone back to being 100 percent businesslike again.
Amelia realized she was still clutching onto his handkerchief like it was a lifeline. She should probably return it. Not now. Not in front of Eleanor. “Yes. Thank you very much.”
Without a word, he vanished.
“What’s your poison?” Eleanor heldup the martini shaker and gave it a rattle.
Amelia shook her head. She didn’t want to sip a cocktail. She wanted to get drunk. Drunk enough to forget about Holden, Wilhelmina, and her mother. But mostly, drunk enough to forget about the cello player next door. “Shots.”
Eleanor’s brows rose. “Shots? I must say I’m surprised, especially after our ladylike tea at the Ritz the other day.”
“If thisis my hen do, we’re doing it right.” What was the worst that could happen? Things were already a royal mess.
“Shots it is, then.” Eleanor filled a shot glass to the brim with vodka and handed it to her.
Amelia tossed it back, and the alcohol burned its way down her throat.
“I heard you went to the opera a few nights ago with my dad,” Eleanor said.
Amelia nodded and held out her glass for arefill. Herhead was already fuzzy. “Mmm hmm.”
