“William,” Raphael said. His voice was cool. Guarded. Unsure.
“Luther! Why are you here?” asked the elderly man who stood with William. He wielded an ornately carved cane, the head of which depicted a bear-like creature. Violet diamonds filled fierce eyes above a gaping mouth filled with gleaming teeth, as if ready to bite. He leaned heavily on the cane as he spoke, the contempt in his icy tone palpable.
“Father, don’t,” the younger man said quietly. “Now is not the time or place.”
“Please welcome Luther Raphael Boudreaux of the Ichor-Delta Royal House Boudreaux, and his fiancée, Francine Hayward Duvall,” announced the usher in a voice loud enough to carry to the end of the receiving line.
She looked into Raphael’s startled face and whispered, “You’re really a royal Boudreaux?”
Before he could answer, Francine heard her mother’s sharp inhalation of breath and turned to see her equally shocked expression.
“Francine?” The older woman sounded truly stunned. She put a hand to her chest as if expecting pain to erupt there any second.
Raphael’s palm pressed gently into Francine’s back, pushing her toward her mother. He greeted her with a winning smile. “Mrs. Duvall, I must tell you that the wedding was beautiful, as were the ceremony’s decorations.”
Francine’s mother slid a smile in place like she’d done a thousand times before and took his extended hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Boudreaux.” Her gaze turned to Francine. “I can’t imagine where you two met, but I’m certain it’s an interesting story.” The smile on her lips did not come anywhere close to her eyes.
Raphael slipped an arm around Francine’s shoulders, drawing her into the shelter of his warm, solid frame. “We met off planet, but I’m in love with Francine and we plan to be married very soon. I hope we’ll have your blessing on our nuptials.”
Francine was trying to wrap her head around the distinct possibility that Raphael was truly a royal Boudreaux and not some random bounty hunter with a good name. The pair of men who’d cut in line behind them both bore an exceedingly strong resemblance to Raphael. The younger man, William, had called him brother. That was…unexpected. He’d lied to her very convincingly.
Had he lied about anything else?
Her mother’s eyes widened slightly, searching Francine’s face, then Raphael’s and taking in the angry older man behind them. “I can’t imagine that we wouldn’t welcome a royal Boudreaux with open arms.” Her gaze fell on Francine again. This time, her expression seemed curious, but some rancor remained in her tone.
“Thank you, Mother,” Francine said, keeping her response as appeasing as possible.
“You say you’re marrying very soon. I hadn’t heard anything about a royal Boudreaux wedding. It must be a small, private affair, yes?”
“Yes,” Raphael said.
Francine’s father extended his hand to Raphael and they both shook.
“Congratulations to you and your family,” Raphael said.
“How soon will this private wedding be?” her mother asked, leaning forward as if to sniff out the accuracy of their fake engagement. If she discovered the truth, she wouldn’t hesitate to shout it to the world and the assembled guests.
Raphael and Francine looked at each other. They had not rehearsed for this possible line of questioning, not expecting even her mother to demand a timeline while they held up the receiving line. Whatever Francine expected, this was not it. She expected her parents—especially her mother—to be either cowed into silence by Raphael’s name and unwilling to make a scene or sparked into acceptance by a possible link to a royal family and overly conciliatory for the rest of their time together. She’d misjudged her mother, not for the first time.
These questions regarding their not up-and-coming nuptials were a surprise. Her mother glanced at the queue where William Boudreaux and his father waited to be received.
In a low voice meant only for her parents’ ears, Raphael said, “Given what Francine has told me, I anticipated we would keep our ceremony private and then have an after celebration at a later date. Of course, you will be invited to the post-wedding festivity.”
“That’s so very nice of you, but I have a better idea,” said her mother, a sly glint in her eye. “Why don’t you get married right now? Today?”
“What?” Francine and Raphael said at the same time.
Francine’s father took his wife’s arm. “Adeline, what are you doing?”
“I’m facilitating.” She yanked her arm out of her husband’s grasp. “The officiant will be here all day. I’m certain he’d be delighted to perform another service for us. What do you say?”
Francine couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Her mother was calling their bluff. She wasdaringthem to get married.
Raphael tightened his grip on Francine’s shoulders and said, “We’d be delighted. However, we’d never want to take a single bit of focus away from Prudence and Antonio’s day.”
Francine looked down the receiving row at Prudence. Her sister winked at her.
“That won’t be a problem. Once the reception luncheon is completed, the bride and groom are leaving for their honeymoon. Trust me, we’ll have plenty of time for another ceremony.” Adeline Duvall’s gaze was directly on her wayward, ostracized daughter.
