Courting Royal

Chapter Seventeen

The next morning, it turns out that the car picking me up is also picking Liam up.

Once this becomes clear to me over coffee, I stand and say, "Good. You can help me decide what to wear to my first royal meeting."

"Don't tell me you're nervous," he says, grabbing his coffee mug and standing to follow my lead.

"Of course I'm nervous!"

He laughs lightly before he kisses the top of my shoulder. "You shouldn't be. It's just like any other business meeting."

"I don't have meetings," I say. "I am my own boss. Plus, this meeting is in a palace."

"Just think of it as a really fancy workplace."

I groan. "You don't get it at all. You're blind to your own life."

"I promise you I am not," he says, shockingly serious when I thought it was clear that I was kidding around.

"I know" I say, "I was kidding."

"Okay," he says. "I just don't want you thinking I'm some spoiled brat who doesn't realize or appreciate the luxury he's afforded."

"I don't think that. I think you're very well aware. But that sometimes you're so well-adjusted that you laugh when I want your help on picking out what to wear."

"We can't have that, now can we?" Liam says. "To the closet."

"Indeed."

I find it glaringly obvious that nothing in my closet will do for this meeting. The only designer goods I have were purchased at deep clearance prices and are several seasons old. But it's not like I can just conjure a voguish designer day dress out of thin air (Olga, I am not), so I ultimately go with a white and black polka dot print dress from J. Crew. It has cap sleeves, is cinched at the waist, and is knee-length. Definitely business appropriate, but still true to who I am.

"See?" Liam says as I fish the shoes I want to wear out of my closet. "Nothing to worry about."

"I don't have to wear hose, right?" I ask, knowing that the Queen is very particular about hosiery. She always wears them when she's out, but I don't think she requires others to wear them anymore.

Or, at least, not always. I'm pretty sure there are a couple specific events where she does require it.

Liam laughs and says, "Emilia has been fighting tooth and nail via her stylist with Gran's stylist about hose in the summer. I guess you'll be joining that fight soon enough."

A small thrill shoots up my spine and Liam plants a kiss on my temple before he says, "We need to get ready."

He goes to change into the clothes that Murray dropped off for him late last night, and I head into the bathroom to get ready. I employ all the beauty techniques I know and have executed successfully before, but, really, that's not saying much. Though I am well-versed in hair and makeup, I'm not entirely great at doing it myself. When I'm through, though, I think I look presentable. Obviously not professionally coiffed, but I'm not an embarrassment.

I put on the dress, my Kelly green pumps (I do not believe in beige shoes), and my Burberry trench. Though it's technically summer here and nice out, a trench never hurts. Plus, it could be freezing in the room where we're meeting. One never knows about air conditioning.

"You ready?" I say to Liam at just after ten as I'm coming out of the bathroom.

He's sitting on my bed, not changed and clearly playing a game on his phone.

"Wait, really? This is really what you've been doing?" I ask.

"Henry challenged me!" he says, referring to a person I haven't met, but who I know is a friend of his from Eton.