Page 24 of Royal Trouble
Odds were good he knew exactly where she was staying, that she’d rebooked her flight home for the day after the royal wedding, and that she’d been a last-minute RSVP for today’s event. But she couldn’t worry about that now. Oddly, Xander was the least of her concerns. Yes, he was her best bet for a story, but he was also her greatest temptation.
She’d gotten so tangled up in Xander that she’d lost focus on her mission. Mr. Larson wanted an exclusive, but he never said it had to be about the royal spare. As long as it was a solid story, she’d earn her place atOn Point. She’d just have to keep her eyes and ears open.
And pray for a miracle.
“Excuse me, dear.”
Everly started. So much for keeping her ears open. “Yes?” She turned to the elderly woman at her side. The woman wore a smart yellow summer suit, and a matching pillbox hat rested upon her pink-tinted curls.
“Is this the path to the west lawn?” she asked, a tiny yellow bag dangling from the crook of her elbow. “I seem to have lost my bloody way.”
“Easy to do,” Everly said with a grin. “All these gardens look the same to me.” She gestured to the stone path ahead. “I believe the party is this way. Shall we?”
They followed the stream of courtiers and socialites to the west lawn, where the party was in full swing. There had to be thousands of people milling about the perfectly manicured garden in colorful spring suits, sipping champagne and living their best lives. She imagined most people were thrilled to be invited to the exclusive event, but she wasn’t most people. Her invitation had been a courtesy to her father, and she was pretty sure no one had expected her to accept. But with Larson’s deadline hanging over her head, she couldn’t afford to pass up an opportunity.
If she had to attend every blasted garden party and pre-wedding celebration right up until the main event, she would.
A server in a pristine black-and-white uniform offered them champagne, and her companion gladly accepted, grabbing two flutes off the nearly empty tray.
“Let’s hope His Majesty uncorked the good stuff for today’s celebration,” she said, offering Everly one of the glasses.
Just one drink to take the edge off.
“I’m Rose, by the way.” The other woman looked her over with an appraising eye. “And you are?”
“Everly Wilson. From America.”
Rose chortled, and Everly could hardly blame her. What kind of introduction was that anyway?
“It’s nice to meet you, Everly Wilson from America. Shall we mingle?”
She sipped champagne as they wandered across the lawn, mentally high-fiving herself for blending in with the crowd. This wasn’t her usual scene, so she’d sprung for a new dress at the last minute—which, thankfully, had been on sale—and borrowed a sleek pink fascinator from Lucy’s closet. For better or worse, she looked the part of a Valerian courtier.
“Are you here alone?” Everly asked her companion. There was no better camouflage than polite conversation.
“Oh, yes.” Rose took a rather large sip of her champagne. “My Joe hates these things, but I wouldn’t miss it for the world. Why stay home and watch dramas on the telly when you can see them played out in real life?”
“Why indeed?” Everly asked, deciding then and there she’d stick with Rose. If the woman was half as good at tracking down drama as she’d been at finding the bubbly, she’d have a juicy headline in no time.
A string quartet played from the patio, their soft melody pumped through speakers set up discreetly around the edge of the lawn as straight-backed servers passed hors d’oeuvres. It was a lovely party, but as far as she was concerned, it was a total waste of money. How many thousands—no, millions—of euros had the crown spent on this shindig?
She’d received a freaking stack of invitations for pre-wedding events, the elegant parchment overflowing her mailbox back in New York. All over Valeria there were parades and garden parties and royal balls. It seemed Their Majesties wanted the entire country to be involved in the heir’s nuptials. Which she supposed made sense, given he was the future monarch, but it was the kind of pomp and circumstance that would’ve sent her running the other direction if she were in the future queen’s designer shoes.
A wedding should be small and intimate, an expression of love and commitment, not a showpiece.
So not the point. Get the story and get out.
Right. The longer she milled around, the greater the odds of running into Katherine again. Or worse yet, her father. Everly cringed. She had no doubt the Duke and Duchess of Lennox were somewhere on the palace grounds, shaking hands and kissing babies, and she had no interest in seeing them.
Not that avoiding them would be difficult. After all, she’d had years of practice.
The thought sobered her, and she followed Rose’s lead when she joined a cluster of courtiers chatting excitedly. Rose greeted them all by name before she turned to Everly. “And this is Everly Wilson. From America.”
All eyes turned to Everly, and there was a flurry of greetings.
She smiled in return. “It’s nice to meet you all.”
“Everly Wilson,” Lady Foxcroft said, brow furrowed in concentration as she adjusted her glasses. She was a tall, impeccably dressed brunette with an aquiline nose and a bit too much lipstick. “Why do I know that name? Are you new to court?”