To Steal a Groom (Royal Billionaire Romance) (10 page)

I slip one between my fingers, wincing at the raw texture. I’m not sure I would call any of these fabric, exactly. I think they were meant to upholster iron maidens. I try a few more, but they’re even worse than the first.

“Well?” Valda asks impatiently, as if she has better things to do.

“You would add a lining, right? Like silk, maybe?” That wouldn’t be too bad. I could last a few hours with something soft protecting my skin.

“That would require additional time and expense. The queen made do with one fabric, you will as well.”

I run my hand through the pile of samples, feeling numb. “Are there any alternatives?”

“Nothing suitable for Miss Priss?” Viciously, she sweeps the samples back into their box. “Well then, on to plan B.”

I’m almost afraid to ask. “What’s plan B?”

“You’re to wear the queen’s old dress.”

My eyes snap to the mannequin. Though it has no mouth, I feel like it’s urging me to run. My skin crawls at the memory of that dress against my skin, the prickling sensation of a thousand ants.

I’ll just have to reject this idea. As politely as possible.

“That’s so generous of the queen,” I say. “Unfortunately, I don’t seem to be as slender as she was. When I tried on her dress, it was so tight that I’m worried I’d ruin it if I sat down. You did tell me that the fabric was very delicate. I wouldn’t want to damage such a fine work of art.”

Valda sniffs. “After her nuptials, the queen had her dress taken in for posterity. It can be let out again.”

I stare at her. Sarina had her dress made smaller so that future generations would think she was thinner on her wedding day? That’s one of the vainest things I’ve ever heard.

Valda takes the queen’s dress off the mannequin, brandishing it at me. “Here. Put this on.”

I back away. “You already took my measurements, didn’t you?”

“The alterations will look better if I pin the dress while you’re wearing it. You don’t want to look like a vagrant, do you?”

As much as I’d like to tell her that I would find that preferable, I hold my tongue. How did I get myself into this mess? Why couldn’t I have picked one of the dresses in London?

“I don’t have all day.” Valda taps her foot. “Are you going to put on this dress, or not?”

Enough delaying. “I think not, I’m afraid.”

She stares at me, shocked. “That’s not a wise choice.”

“Mine seldom are. Tell the queen whatever you want, but I won’t be wearing her dress. Neither will I require your services.”

“And where are you going to get a dressmaker on such short notice?” Valda demands. “Unless … No, you can’t be going with that chit the chambermaid.”

“I can and will. I’ve done my best to respect the queen’s wishes, but this is not her wedding.”

Valda glares at me, clutching the dress. It seems she’s forgotten how delicate the fabric is. “I’ll see that you regret this.”

“Believe me, I already do.” Turning on my heel, I take my leave.

It doesn’t take me long to track down Eris. I find her, of all places, in the room with the blue door.

“Did you forget something in here?” She flattens the sheets with a practiced tug, then crouches to look under the bed. “I thought I sent up everything I didn’t recognize.”

“No, it’s not that. I came to ask—well, more like beg—you to consider helping me with my wedding dress. Would you, please? I’m hopeless.”

She holds me in a level gaze. “Do you want me to help you pick something out? Because I’m no fun at all, I warn you. I was my friend’s bridesmaid last year, and I just about drove her mad with my dress critiques. She finally sent me out. Said she just wanted a dress, not a work of art.”

I can’t help but laugh at the image. “No, I’m afraid I’m a bit burned out on dress shopping. Which I know is pathetic, but I have very little stamina for shopping. Especially when Damon’s involved.”

“The prince can be…” She trails off, looking wary.

“You can tell me.”

“All right. Rather spoiled. I guess it does come with the territory. He can be very picky about details like that, but one dress can’t have everything. Besides, he’s not even the one who will be wearing it.” She waves her hand. “I can fix that. But are you positive?”

“About what?”

“You really want me to make your dress?”

“Absolutely.”

Eris squeals, completely dropping the show of prim chambermaid. “I thought you’d never ask.” She hugs me so tightly that I find it hard to breathe. Finally, she releases me, gathering her feather duster and sweeping around in a flurry. “I won’t tell him what I’m making, or even the color. He needs to have some surprises still. Oh, I’m going to need some paper and pencils. I’m almost bursting with the possibilities.”

I grin. Her excitement is contagious, even though I’m probably even more hopeless at dressmaking than dress buying. “I can pay you, too. Just name your price.”

“Being allowed to make it is enough. Do you know how many photos the papers will print? I will need to buy materials, though.”

Reaching into my back pocket, I pull out a black credit card. “Damon gave this to me. I don’t think it has a limit.”

She stares at it. “You trust me with this?”

“Should I not?”

Reluctantly, Eris takes it. “What will you use if I have your credit card?”

“I can’t think of anything I’d need to buy.” It’s true. Buying things isn’t much fun, especially not compared to the rush you get from simply walking out with things, whether from museums or mansions.

“When should I start?”

“Does now work?”

“I’d love to start now.” Eris throws the feather duster over her shoulder. “I’m not sure my boss would like it though, one less maid at work.”

“I’ll handle that.” More like delegate to Damon, but same difference.

Her eyes widen. “That’s sure to get back to the queen.”

“Well, it’s not like I’m on her best side right now anyway. I just fired Valda.”

“You did?” Eris covers her mouth with her hand. “What did she do? Besides have no taste, of course.”

“Apparently, Sarina wanted me to wear her old wedding dress.”

“You didn’t care for the Monstrosity?”

“The what?”

Her lips curl into an evil smile. “That’s what we call it. It’s appropriate, don’t you think?”

“I don’t understand. How is Valda the royal dressmaker if she’s so terrible?”

Eris hoists herself onto the bed, careful not to rumple the sheets. “After my mother died, and the late queen died, there was no need for a dressmaker. At least, not for the royals. The post stayed vacant until Sarina came along and hired Valda. That was a mistake, as you can see. No one could replace my mum, but Valda’s a disaster.”

Deep in thought, I return the feather duster to Eris’s cart. I know she wants to hang up her apron as soon as possible, but there’s no sense in her getting in trouble before she’s even started my dress.

She watches me from the bed, her expression odd. “I can take care of that.”

“I know.” I sit next to her, hoping I won’t bring up any hard feelings with what I’m about to say. “You said your mother taught you some. Obviously, you taught yourself a little something since then, or you couldn’t have made me that gorgeous ball gown. Have you ever considered applying for the dressmaker post yourself?”

Eris gives me a small smile, then kicks her dangling feet. “It would be nice if it worked like that. But the queen is the one who makes those decisions, and she thinks I’m best put to use as a chambermaid.”

I frown.

“Don’t bother yourself about it. The Lions have treated me well, and I’m happy to clean for them.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m about to make my first wedding dress. Woe is me, life is very hard.” She shoos me from the room. “I’ll just finish up here, then get to work on some sketches.”

I can tell she’s lost in thoughts of hems and bodices, so I leave her, shutting the blue door behind me. I’m glad she’ll be making my dress. At least her talents won’t go to waste.

I retreat to the prince’s room, taking refuge on a windy balcony. Flocks of birds swirl high above the city, wheeling and diving, unable to settle. I know exactly how they feel.

Damon finds me just before dusk. “I barely saw you today,” he complains.

I don’t have any complaints when he wraps his arms around me. “Wedding planning will do that, I hear.”

“We should elope then.” His hand slides down my back.

Stepping away, I force him to look at me. “Don’t you want a big wedding?”

“I suppose so.”

I search his eyes. Seeing as it would be easier for me to steal the
Mona Lisa
than plan a wedding, I’d like him to be sure.

He clasps his hands behind my back, pulling me close. “We’ll have our extravaganza. Well, right after Marc and Natalia.” A shadow passes over his face. “But enough about them. How was your day?”

Personally, I’m not eager to discuss that pair either. Though I don’t want to lie to him, I’m not yet ready to tell him the whole truth. “My day was … tiring.”

He rests his head on my shoulder, the day’s stubble prickling my neck. “Is something wrong?”

I sigh. “I’ve solved the problem of how to acquire a dress.”

“That sounds like a good thing.”

“I asked Eris if she would help, and she was ecstatic.”

“A wise choice.” He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “Again, I don’t see the problem.”

“Well, the queen thought she would help, and assigned her dressmaker to assist me.”

“I’m aware of Valda.” He places a hand firmly on my hip. “I hear she can be difficult.”

“You could say that. Would you like to know what she and the queen decided I should wear?”

“I’m afraid to guess.”

“You should be. They settled on Sarina’s wedding dress.”

“The Monstrosity? My god.” Damon has to steady himself on the railing. “I can’t even imagine the flashbacks that would give me.”

“Valda was upset that I would turn down the queen’s generous offer. Won’t Sarina be furious?”

“She usually is, at one thing or another.” Damon squeezes my hand. “Often at me, though lately she’s been opting to ignore me. It’ll blow over soon enough. All you have to do is wait for her to get mad about something else.”

I have the sinking feeling that the “something else” will also involve me somehow. No matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to get the prince’s parents to like me.

“Don’t worry.” Damon looks out over the city, bathed in the glow of the setting sun. “Tomorrow will be better.”

8

Damon was wrong. The next day begins with Natalia tapping her glass at breakfast.

“Everyone, I have an important announcement to make.” Sweeping the room with her gaze, she refuses to continue until everyone, from the maids to the monarchs, is focused on her. “I’ve decided on my maid of honor.”

I stifle a groan, and I can tell I’m not the only one. The king doesn’t even bother to hide his bored expression. I can’t blame him. Who cares? Why does such a decision even merit an announcement?

Natalia turns to me. “Grace, I would be honored if you would stand next to me on the most important day of my life. After all, we’re about to be sisters. Isn’t it just lovely?” The way her eyes flash makes me feel like a mouse before a cobra.

Shit. I can’t refuse, can I? I feel frozen to my seat. Helplessly, I look at Damon.

He leans over to whisper in my ear. “Rule of the royals: Accept in public, decline in private.”

Natalia tilts her head, smirking. Damon’s advice would be good if she didn’t have that tape to dangle over my head. There’ll be no declining, in public or in private.

I incline my head. “I accept your generous offer.” And my fate.

Natalia takes her seat. Looking up, I find that both the monarchs are frowning at me. Darius’s face is calculating, as if he’s trying to figure out what I’m up to. I wouldn’t be surprised if he suspects that I blackmailed Natalia to become her maid of honor. Sarina looks like she just ate a poisoned lemon. No doubt she heard that I dismissed Valda. A storm is brewing around me, the question no longer if it will break, but when.

I push away my toast. Somehow, I’ve lost my appetite again.

After breakfast, Natalia pulls me aside. “I’m so eager to get started planning, aren’t you?”

“Hold on,” Damon says. “I’ve barely spent any time with Grace these past few days. You aren’t the only future bride around here.” He turns to me. “I thought we’d ride Felix this morning, get away for a while. Wouldn’t you like that?”

Natalia links her arm through mine. “Not everyone’s interested in your smelly horses. I’m sure Grace would rather help me plan. Isn’t that right, Grace?”

She pinches my arm, reminding me that I don’t have a choice in the matter. As much as I’d like to pinch her right back, I’m not ready for Damon to find out about the tape. Not yet.

“I’d be glad to help. I’ll see you later, Damon, okay?” I only have time to kiss him on the cheek before Natalia drags me away. He stares after me, looking dumbfounded.

I’m dragged into a room filled with notepads and index cards. An easel holds what looks like a seating chart for an entire continent. Paper squares in cheery colors sit on a small table, stacked so high that they begin to look sinister.

Natalia slinks over to a cushy chair, pulling out a lambskin writing sheaf. “Here we are. Your new home for the next few days. Well, as long as it takes, really.”

“And what are we going to be doing here?”

“We?” Natalia laughs. “
You
are going to fold 1,000 paper swans for me.”

“I don’t know how.”

“Learn then. I’m getting married in less than two weeks—that still leaves you plenty of time.”

I take the only remaining chair, whose back is angled forward so much that it makes me hunch. It squeaks as I sit.

“There’s a diagram in here somewhere.” She tosses a pack of light blue paper onto the table before me. “Don’t ask me to help. I can’t be bothered to read directions.”

“When’s your wedding, again?”

“Not this Saturday, but next.” She scribbles something in a notepad.

“And you expect me to make 1,000 swans by then?”

“You will, unless you want me to reveal all to your fair fiancé.”