Page 50 of Royally Wed

Ugh.

She unpinned it, placed it in a wispy pile beside her, and dropped her head into her hands.

You can do this. Nothing has changed—just the dress. Does it really matter what you wear?

It didn’t.

Amelia just wished she could have one tiny shred of control over her wedding day. She’d take anything at this point.

Woof.

“Sod off, Willow.”

Couldn’t the dog see that she was in the middleof a crisis?

Woof. Woof. Woof.

Apparently not.

“Please, Willow. I can’t even hear myself think.” Amelia looked up to glare at the corgi, but Willow’s furry little face was obscured by a giant puff of diaphanous white.

The veil.

Amelia bent to pick it up, but just as her fingertips made contact with the gossamer fabric, it moved out of reach.Oh no.Amelia flew to her feet. Willow droppedthe veil long enough to let out another bark, then snatched it back up in her jaws and scurried across the room.

Amelia did her best imitation of her mum’s voice—the one she’d used a few times on Edward and Oliver with remarkable effectiveness.“Drop it right now.”

The corgi didn’t flinch. She picked up speed and ran in one continuous loop around the room, daring Amelia to chase her.

What choicedid she have? The veil was dragging on the ground, tangling into a knot beneath Willow’s little paws. If it wasn’t already damaged, it would be any minute. Amelia would end up bringing it back to the fitting full of holes, which would just prove the queen right about everything. How could Amelia be trusted with top secret information about the wedding dress when she couldn’t even manage to keepthe veil intact?

God, it would be humiliating, and Amelia would once again feel utterly useless.

No.

It wasn’t going to happen. Not this time.

“Give me the veil, you thief.” Amelia picked up her skirt and ran after Willow.

Chasing the dog was useless, though. Amelia kept tripping on layers upon layers of frothy white tulle. So she stood very still and let Willow zip past a few times, thendoveat the dog when it seemed she might be letting her guard down.

But Willow had a solid backup plan. Because of course she did.

Just when Amelia thought she had her, the corgi made a hard turn to the right and disappeared through the doggy door with the veil still dragging behind her.

“Oh my God. Come back here!” Amelia yanked the door open and ran after her.

Willow was having the timeof her life. She didn’t run down the hall. She bounced, as if there were springs in her little corgi feet. Amelia was falling behind by the second.

This is bad. Really, really bad.

What if Willow burst into the queen’s sitting room with the veil still clamped between her teeth? Amelia would never hear the end of it.

But Willow had other plans, apparently. Instead of continuing her jaunt downthe length of the Queen’s Hall, she made another sharp turn and headed straight for the Blue Room.

No. Just no.

“Willow, bad dog! Terrible dog. Stop, please.” Amelia had no more shame. Zero. She was pleading now.