Page 57 of Royal Trouble
Thank Christ for that, at least.
“Come on,” she said, bumping him with her shoulder and nudging him toward the steps. “Your security people have been here all morning doing their thing, and I’ve already spoken with your secretary. She sent the new address to all of the guests, but we still have a lot to do before they arrive. I need to show you the sleeping quarters. Oh, and you’ll need to see where the performers will be set up.”
She began ticking items off on her fingers, not even waiting for his reply.
“The caterers are setting up in the kitchen as we speak. I’ve already spoken with the gaming company. And if the guys are going to be smoking, keep it to the parlor, please. Host’s orders.”
He quirked a brow. “And that host would be?”
“The Duke of Lennox,” she called over her shoulder, bounding up the stairs and leaving him behind.
Xander froze midway up the stairs. Bloody hell. This was her father’s house?
“You spoke to your father?”
She shrugged. “It was no big deal.”
Bollocks. At the garden party, she’d blanched at the mere sight of the duke. Asking him for a favor? That would’ve cost her. The realization shook him to the core. Because she hadn’t done it for herself, she’d done it for him. To try and make amends for everything that had happened between them.
It was a hell of a gesture.
He hurried to catch up with her, and she led him on a whirlwind tour of the estate, introducing him to the staff and ensuring he had a good feel for the layout and itinerary for the night. They’d start with drinks, appetizers, and a high-stakes poker game, followed by a feast fit for a future king. They’d end the night with a burlesque show in the drawing room, which would no doubt offend Liam’s sensibilities.
It was bloody perfect.
“You’ve thought of everything,” he said as they finished up on the back patio. “Truly, Evie. I can’t thank you enough for what you’ve done. You really saved my arse.”
Everly smiled up at him, face glowing with pride. As well it should. Not only had she delivered everything he’d ask for, she’d gone above and beyond delivering the perfect location. It was secure, private, and as luxurious as his own family’s country home, which was currently occupied by visiting dignitaries.
With the compressed timeline, it couldn’t have been easy. She’d said herself he was asking for a miracle, but that was what he’d needed. He couldn’t let his brother down, not when Liam had voiced such confidence in him. After all, if he couldn’t handle one fucking stag party, how could he possibly be trusted to run the foundation?
Still, the knowledge that she’d had to turn to her father sat like a stone in his gut.
“After everything I’ve done, this is the least I can do,” she said, smile dimming as she gestured to the house. “Besides, it wasn’t so bad. Not with Lucy’s connections and…well, my father’s resources.”
“Speaking of your father,” he said in the world’s most awkward segue. It was clumsy as hell and completely obvious, but he’d never claimed to be smooth when it came to familial matters. Just look at his own fucked-up family dynamic. “Does this mean there’s a reconciliation in the future?”
Everly shook her head and gave a rueful laugh. “Not likely. The day I turned eighteen was the best day of my life. It meant I’d never have to rely on him for another damn thing, and I could cut him out of my life as completely as he’d cut me out of his.”
Though her words were austere, the pain in her eyes gutted him. He reached for her, sliding his fingers down her bare arm and taking her hand in his. “I’m so sorry, Evie.”
A horn blared on the other side of the house, followed by a raucous shout.
“Sounds like your guests have arrived,” she said, separating their hands and forcing a smile. “You should go greet them. After all, you are the host.”
“You sure you don’t want to stick around for the party?” He flashed her a wicked grin. “You know what they say, the more the merrier.”
“Hard pass.” She rolled her eyes. “Theyprobably never spent the night babysitting a bunch of smashed royals. Besides, I’ve got a date with Netflix, but I’m only a text away if you need me,” she assured him, holding up her mobile and giving it a shake. “Everything’s going to be fine.”
Famous last words.
Technically, everything was going fine. Better than fine, really. Once Liam had gotten over the initial shock of the burlesque troupe, he’d given himself over to the fun, enjoying the bawdy show along with the rest of the group. After, he’d even thanked Xander for hosting such a bloody good party.
Right before he’d passed out in the parlor.
Stag night was a smashing success—literally. Xander seemed to be the only one not drunk off his arse, which suited him just fine. He’d opted for sobriety, giving himself a two-drink limit, as much a nod to his new and improved lifestyle as it was his hosting duties. The last thing he needed was for one of these drunk arseholes to drown in the pool on his watch.
Unfortunately, sobriety made it that much more painful when he’d overheard one of his brother’s friends joke that “the bastard prince” had outdone himself. Because apparently, even after all this time, that’s all he was. All he would ever be.