As Vince escorted me down the hall, I was taken aback by the paintings that lined the wall. Four years studying art history in undergrad and a master’s degree in curatorial studies—never mind that I had yet to use said degree since graduating three years prior—had given me a sharp eye for fine art, and I could have sworn I spotted a Rembrandt.I shook my head.Can that be right? An original Rembrandt? I guess we are in a royal palace, so anything is possible.
I made a mental note to come back and look later. This wasn’t the time to marvel.Although I would give my left tit to skip this gala and look at the art instead.
At the end of the hallway, we turned right into the spacious dining hall. The room was absolutely sumptuous with high vaulted ceilings, chandeliers dripping in crystals, and walls covered in champagne damask. It would take me days to recover fromfabricon thewalls.
A string quartet sat against the farthest wall, playing a classical rendition of “Bad Guy” by Billie Eilish.Goddamn, what is this, Bridgerton?Round tables draped in white linen and topped with gold plates surrounded a shining dance floor. No one sat in the navy-blue chairs pushed into the tables.
Along the wall opposite the musicians, a long, polished wood table sat on a platform raised a foot above the floor. Behind the table were six exquisite mahogany chairs, upholstered in navy velvet and accented with jewels of deep emerald and sapphire.
Vince gave my arm a gentle squeeze. “I’ll go get us drinks.” He casually wove his way through the attendees. Bronson had already been pulled aside by two older gentlemen.
As the room filled, my outsider status became harder to ignore. It seemed like everyone hadsomeoneto talk to. I knew I should mingle, but my nerves were really getting the best of me. I often felt out of place growing up, but somehow this was different. I was a ballgown-clad fish out of water.
I scanned the room, hoping to catch sight of Chauncey or Tej. I spotted Bronson in a corner, deep in conversation with the two men. He seemed to have relaxed a bit. He was comfortable in the royal court and knew his place.Lucky him.
Vince, meanwhile, had been waylaid by a group of middle-aged women and was clearly in his own element. His body language indicated that he was telling a lively story, and the women were enthralled, laughing along with him as he spoke.
A few feet away, a group of men in their mid-to-late fifties were deep in conversation. Nearby, a cluster of women around my age made polite small talk. I wondered who they might be and if they were my fellow contestants. I wished Vince had shown me pictures of tonight’s guests during our earlier rundown to better prepare me. Proper etiquette and knowing how to curtsy would only get me so far.
“It’s all a little bit overwhelming at first, isn’t it?” I nearly jumped out of my skin at the voice just beside me.
“Jesus Christ, Knox! You scared me. I didn’t even see you come up.” I placed my hand over my rapidly beating heart.
“Sorry,” he replied wryly. “Next time, I’ll have Richmond, our Herald of Arms, announce my arrival.”
I rolled my eyes, hoping Bronson wouldn’t spot me doing so. “A simple clearing of the throat would suffice.” I turned toward him. “So, what was it like growing up here in Wexstone?”
Knox’s jaw tightened as he mulled the question over. “It was fine. Definitely different from America. But not bad.”
“I don’t imagine it would be. It’s beautiful from what I’ve seen so far.” I paused. “You wouldn’t happen to know of any secret hiding places or escape routes I could use if I decided to run away, would you?”
He let out a soft, deep chuckle, relaxing. “Yeah, I know a few.”
My stomach flipped at the sound of his laugh. I took a good look at him, admittedly the first time I had really studied him since our rendezvous in the closet. His haircut was fresh and precise. His beard was trimmed to a neat, clean stubble,showcasing a square jaw that probably made women leave snail trails behind them when they walked by.
Get it together, Birdie, you’re not here to swoon over Broody Knox! Your make-out was just a game. You’re here to fall in love with a prince and live happily ever after and all that fairytale shit.
I cleared my throat, trying to clear my head along with it. “So…when does this shindig start?” I asked, mostly to distract myself from thinking about the way Knox had picked me up in the closet.
Knox looked at his watch. “The royal family should be arriving in about five minutes. Do you want to get a drink?”
“Yes, that would be great. Vince was getting me one, but he seems to have gotten intercepted.” I nodded to where he was still holding court halfway across the room.
Knox chuckled as he raised his hand, and a server hurried over with a tray of champagne.
“Thank you, Jefferson,” Knox said as he handed me a glass and took another for himself.
“Wow. Do you know the names of all of the staff?” I asked, taking a sip and luxuriating in the feel of the bubbles as they danced on my tongue.
“Yes. I like to?—”
“Well, I see they continue to let anyone come to these parties,” said a shrill voice from behind us.
I turned to see a woman with fiery red hair wearing a forest-green evening gown approaching us, a glass of champagne in hand. She took a bite out of a strawberry that had been perched on the rim of her glass and tossed the stem onto a passing server’s tray.
“Renata.” Knox nodded curtly. Sothiswas Renata Raines.
“Always a polite gentleman,” she said with a dramatic eye roll. “Oh, I see you’ve brought a date with you this time.”
