“Terribly so. And now I must ask a favor of you for putting me through it.” I wave Aurelia forward, and Beatrix raises an eyebrow.
“Bringing a date to your own bachelorette survey?”
I give her a pointed glare. “No, this is Aurelia. She works for the Maiers. She’s not my date, but I did invite her.”
“Mm-hm,” my cousin hums.
“I thought you might watch after her; this is her first royal engagement.”
Trixie gives her a calculating once-over, and I can feel Aurelia’s back straighten under the scrutiny.
“She doesn’t appear to need looking after.”
“You know what I mean, Trix. Introduce her to people and help her get acclimatized to how these events go.” I’m throwing a lot at Aurelia, and I prayshe’s up to the challenge. She hasn’t shrunk under my cousin’s inspection, and that gives me hope.
Beatrix sighs. “You know I can’t resist a redhead, Fritz. Of course, I’m always glad to play host to any woman you deem worth your time.”
Aurelia blushes at that but doesn’t back down. “Princess Beatrix,” she says with a curtsy. “Prince Friedrich has told me so much about you.”
“All lies, I’m sure.”
“Oh, complete fabrications to paint him as the angel of the family,” Aurelia drawls.
They both fall into a fit of giggles.
“I think I like this one, Fritz. She’s not a simpering fool mooning over your position.”
I huff in mock derision, but Trixie couldn’t be more right. I feel my shoulders relax knowing I’m leaving Aurelia in capable hands. Even though it physically pains me when she steps away from me and goes to my cousin’s side.
“Now, I’m off to find my friend with the numbing juice. Try not to get more phone numbers than Claus tonight, you know how he hates it when you show him up.” Trixie had left this year’s Independence Day celebration with two women, and my brother still sulks about it.
“I thought you all weren’t allowed to mingle tonight?”
“We’re not, but where there are women, Claus will find a way.”
“Hm, cheers to that then.” She holds up anempty hand and frowns, then grabs Aurelia’s arm and links their elbows together. “Right, let’s find a drink, shall we, darling?” she says to the woman on her arm. “Ta-ta.” My cousin waggles her fingers at me, then turns to chat with Aurelia as they stride away.
I allow myself one last indulgence and admire the way the high heels make Aurelia’s incredible ass look all the more mouthwatering as she disappears. I shake my head to clear it, adjust my trousers once more, and make my way upstairs.
Miles is already waiting at a small table in the darkened mezzanine. He hands me a glass of whiskey as I set down the plate stacked high with finger foods and take the chair opposite him, facing out across the ballroom.
“To the beginning of the end, brother.” He taps his glass to mine. “Somewhere behind those doors is the future Mrs. Friedrich Elijah Maxime blah blah and so on.”
I snort before sipping tonight’s procurement. Leave it to Miles’s perfect taste in whiskey to pick just the right bottle for the mood. This one has quite the spice to it and only a touch of sweetness. We sit in near silence as we wait for the first arrivals. Slowly, ladies begin trickling into the ballroom. The invitation only specified cocktail attire, and it’s always interesting to see how such a broad dress code is interpreted. I recognize the princess from Sweden, lovely in a classic black sheath dress, her blonde hair pulled in an artfully loose bun at the back of her head. The daughter of a British Viscount opted for bold with a hot pink number that isa bit shorter than many would consider proper for the palace. A woman I don’t recognize sparkles as she steps into the ballroom, the beading of her high-necked gown too intricately detailed to decipher from my elevated position. I watch the early invitees mix and mingle, but it is difficult to hear much of what is said from the mezzanine.
The door behind us opens and shuts nearly soundlessly. I turn to see my sisters sliding chairs up to the table.
“What are you two doing?” I hiss. “We’re not supposed to be present for this part.”
“That was supposed to include you, too,” my youngest sister, Lorelei, retorts.
“Besides, we got tired of looking at the dresses on TV and wanted to scope out our future sister-in-law for ourselves.” Anneliese cranes her neck to try to catch a better glimpse at the women below. She turns to Lorelei. “Did you see that one that just came in? What an appalling shade of orange! Is it hunting season?”
They both giggle, and I shoot them my best stern big brother glare.
“Come on, Fritz,” Liesel teases. “You can’t tell me some of these dresses aren’t hideous.”
“Seriously,” adds my youngest sibling. “Mother has incredible taste, you can’t allow someone like that,” she points to a woman with an impossibly high updo, “assume her place in court.”
