“What has gotten into you lately,” Lady Jeanette Bower asked as she sat across the desk from me.

I sighed as I looked up from the document I was working on to give her a narrow-eyed glare.

“Why would you ask me that?” I didn't think I was acting out of the ordinary.

“Come on,” she said, sitting back and crossing her legs, “This is me you're talking to.”

Lady Jeanette was one of Alyssa’s five Ladies in Waiting and the two of us were the closest. Not that we didn't get on with all of them, just that Jeanette and I were the most alike. Lady Alexandra was also of a mind with the two of us, but we no longer saw all that much of her, not since she’d gotten engaged to Lord Frederick.

I sat back, taking a moment to close my eyes and stretch my neck from side to side to work out the kinks. “I'm just tired,” I said wearily, “This wedding is going to be the death of me.”

She chuckled lightly and I managed to give her a smile.

“So,” she said and I immediately felt a buzz of nerves in my stomach. “I'm not just here for a social call.”

“Oh?” I tried to keep my voice steady despite the chaos in my gut.

“I've had some questions about you and the Lord Chancellor.”

“What?” This was not what I expected. I was expecting questions about Piérre and my sister or Piérre and me, not something about Dom and me.

“Nothing serious, just a few by-the-by observations. You and the Lord Chancellor have been seen around town and have danced together.”

“We happened to bump into one another at the movies one night, and sat together, it wasn't a date or anything and of course we would dance together, is there a reason we shouldn't?”

“Don't get defensive,” she said with a trace of a smile, “The press are interested in everything Royal at the moment with the wedding, not to mention Alex and Freddie’s romance. There’s a wager going on who the next Lady in Waiting will be to fall in love.”

I scoffed outwardly, but inwardly I cringed. What if people had seen her try to kiss Dom last night? What if they'd seen him reject her? Not to mention what had happened in the garden later.

“I know, I know,” she said with a wave of her hand, dismissing my objections. “Neither of us are keen to get involved with anyone and I doubt Savannah or Margaret have any marriage aspirations either.” She smiled to herself. “A lot has happened in a year, we've all changed.”

“For the better,” I said.

“Oh, definitely for the better. We've all been given a purpose, something we didn't have before coming to work for Alyssa.”

It was true. I had come here disillusioned with what I had grown up believing about myself and my future. Alyssa had given us all a chance to find our place, to find our calling and I was forever grateful. Without Alyssa, I would have had no choice but to stay in my father’s house and let him make decisions about my future without my input or consent.

“So what should I do?” I asked.

“Oh, nothing,” she said, “I just thought you might like to know. It's better to be safe rather than sorry and if we can stay ahead of the rumours, it's always better than being caught out by them.”

“Does this mean that every time Dom and I are seen together there is going to be speculation?”

Jeanette raised her eyebrows. “Dom is it? You two are now on first name basis?”

I couldn't help the flush that coloured my cheeks, but I refused to act guilty about her observation.

“We do spend a fair bit of time working together,” I said, “And we are on first name basis with the Queen and her consort, so I don't see the big deal about being familiar with the Lord Chancellor.”

“Except that he is a stuffed shirt who is not known for his relaxed and easy going nature. I think I can count on one hand how many people address him by his first name and not by his title.”

I shrugged, hoping it came off as nonchalant. “It's a recent development,” I said, “I'm sure that once we get through the wedding preparations I’ll be relegated once again to using his title.”

“Mm-hmm,” she hummed, eyeing me closely. “Is there something I should know about your relationship with the Lord Chancellor?”

“Are you asking as a friend or as the Palace’s media liaison?”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes, it matters.”

“Which means there is something going on…”

She waited for me to fill in the blanks. I bit my lip as I thought it over. It would be nice to have someone to confide in, someone I could tell the whole story to, from Piérre and my flight from the arranged betrothal to whatever it was that was happening between me and Dom. I was sorely tempted to unburden myself and to ask someone else's counsel, get a fresh perspective.

But what would she think of me? And what would happen if the betrothal became public? I had survived ‘The Scandal’ so far because nobody had linked Piérre and I and if they did, now that I worked for the Queen, it would be explosive tabloid fodder. I couldn't bring that to the Queen’s doorstep, not when she had taken me in and given me a job and her friendship.

I shook my head. “No,” I said, “Nothing is going on between the Lord Chancellor and I, nothing but work, anyway.”

Jeanette nodded slowly, her eyes not leaving mine and I knew that she didn't believe, but I was glad that she didn't push.

The door burst open and Bianca waltzed in, pulling up short when she saw Jeanette.

“Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know you were in a meeting.”

“It's okay,” Jeanette said, rising, “I was just leaving.” She turned to me. “We’ll talk later,” she said before turning and striding from the office.

I waited for Lady Jeanette to leave and closed the door before turning back to Priscilla and grinning broadly.

“I have just had the best idea,” I said.

She looked at me with a raised eyebrow and a skeptical look, but I couldn't afford for her dismiss me now, not when Louis and the Lord Chancellor were waiting.

“Come on, Priscilla,” I pleaded, “Can't you just trust me this once?”

She sighed and crossed her arms on the desk. “Okay, what is it?”

“Well, it's more of a location thing…”

“What does that mean?”

“It means you have to come with me so I can show you.”

“Why can't you just tell me? I'm really busy and I can't afford to get behind—”

“You need to eat, don't you?” I asked, running out of ways to convince her to come with me.

“I was planning on eating at my desk—”

“Okay, well, you can eat and walk instead, can't you.”

“I suppose—”

“Come on,” I said jumping up, “The quicker we go, the quicker you'll get back to your boring work.”

“My work may be boring to you, but I am trying to negotiate five hundred guests, most of whom are royalty, without inadvertently setting back foreign relations—”

“Blah, blah, blah. More walking, less talking.”

With an audible sigh and a mumbled curse, Priscilla got up from her desk and I grabbed her hand, dragging her with me out the door.

“Where’s this food you promised me?”

“You'll get it when we get to our destination.”

“So what is this idea anyway? Can't you give me some sort of hint or context?”

“I was thinking about the wedding and the wedding photos and that the Queen might need a break from all the prying eyes.”

“Okay,” Priscilla said cautiously as we descended in the lift.

“And I got this really brilliant idea.”

“And what is this idea?”

“Well I figured out a way for the Queen and her husband, what are we going to call him anyway? He's not going to be the king is he, so what? How will we address him?”

“Lord Darkly will become Prince William and will take the Queen’s surname and become the Duke of Vale and his current ducal seat will pass to his sister, Georgina and she will become Duchess of Camphrey and take possession of Pemberton, but we’re off on a tangent. What did you figure out?”

By this time they had exited the castle and were crossing the green towards the maze.

“Well, I figured out a way to have some really gorgeous photos taken, give the Queen and the Prince a bit of respite from all the gawkers and allow them to have a bite to eat before going in to the reception.”

“Okay,” Priscilla said slowly, looking around her. “The maze?”

I beamed at her, “Exactly. The centre of the maze to be exact. I know they need to do all the stuffy publicity photos in the Palace, but I thought they might also like to have some more private photos done, something more in line with their personalities, something normal, like a normal couple might do.”

Priscilla had that look on her face, the one she got when she was seriously considering something.

“Okay, so why did I need to come all the way out here? You could have told me all this in my office.”

“Yes but then you wouldn't have gotten the full effect.”

We entered the maze and I slowed, hoping that Louis had had more luck getting his brother to comply with him and that they were already waiting for me and Priscilla at the centre of the maze.

“I'm beginning to like this idea,” Priscilla said thoughtfully, taking in the immaculately clipped hedges and the pure white gravel. Every so often there was a path that lead off the one we travelled, or a little alcove with a stone bench or statue. We had both been in the maze enough times to know the way without getting lost and it didn't take long until we were on the final avenue that led to the centre.

I stopped, stunned, as we reached the threshold of the centre of the maze. Louis had outdone himself. Fairy lights were strung across the clearing and, although it wasn't night time, I could imagine how beautiful it would be in the dark. Colourful paper lanterns hung at intervals and the colours were repeated in the large cushions that were scattered about the paving stones. He had also managed to get some orange trees in large marble urns to decorate the edges of the clearing, their bright fruit a counterpoint to the green leaves of the trees and hedges bringing more colour into an area that was normally quite monochrome.

“Wow,” Priscilla breathed behind me, both of us halted by the transformation.

“Isn't it awesome?” I said in wonder.

“You did this?”

I shook my head slowly, “No, Louis did.”

We were silent while we took in the sight and then I felt Priscilla stiffen beside me as she noticed Louis and his brother standing by a fully laden table.

“I can't be here,” she said, but I grabbed her arm before she could run away.

“But you haven't eaten yet,” I said, grasping at straws.

“But Dom’s here—”

“Yes, Louis wanted to show him as well. We wanted you both to see it so you could present the idea to the Queen.”

“I—”

“Come on,” I said, dragging her by the elbow into the clearing and towards the two waiting men.

They were a sight to see. Two tall, dark and handsome men with piercing green eyes, one brooding and one smiling. I felt a shiver go through me at the sight, my eyes drawn to Louis. He was one good looking man.

The Lord Chancellor held up a small iPod speaker with an attached iPod and music filtered out. It was an old song, one I didn't know. He held it above his head and a smirk quirked the side of his mouth.

It seemed that they had forgotten that Louis and I were even there, they only had eyes for each other. Louis jerked his head to the side and I stepped away with him. We didn't wait to see what happened, we walked quickly away leaving Priscilla and Dom to work out their differences.

“I have to go—”

“Wait,” I said, taking her elbow, preventing her from bolting from me before I had a chance to apologise to her. I sat the iPod dock down on the table, but ‘In Your Eyes’ by Peter Gabriel continued to play.

I had been seriously annoyed with Louis for dragging me down here, and I didn't think that his hair-brained scheme would even work, but now that Priscilla was here, I was glad he'd set it up. I don't think her and I would've ever made the time to clear the air and then our relationship would've been irreparably damaged.

She stood stiff, my hand on her arm, her back turned towards me. I took a deep breath and got a hint of her light floral scent. Emotions crashed over me and my mind blanked for a moment as I tried to find my equilibrium.

“Priscilla,” I said, my voice cracked and raspy, “Please don't go, please hear me out.”

She didn't reply, but she didn't try and pull away from me either which I took for encouragement.

I took a deep breath. “I'm sorry,” I said roughly, “I'm sorry for what happened last night. It shouldn't have—”

She spun towards we, her eyes snapping. “It shouldn't have, what? It shouldn't have happened? You regret it?”

“God no,” I breathed and she jerked in surprise. “What I was going to say was it shouldn't have happened like that, not that it shouldn't have happened at all.”

The fight went out of her and her shoulders rounded as she dropped her head.

“I'm sorry for slapping you,” she said, “I was upset and embarrassed—”

“Shush now,” I murmured, taking a step towards her and pulling her into my arms.

“You know she ignores him in the movie, right?” She mumbled into my chest and I chuckled.

“I did know that,” I said, stroking my hand down her back and laying my cheek on the top of her head. Why did she feel so right in my arms?

“I have to say it’s not my favourite of the John Hughes movies,” she mumbled again.

“Maybe not, but you have to admit that it's an iconic scene, the whole boom box serenade.”

She looked up at me then and I felt like I was falling into her eyes. Being this close to her was dangerous, she could ask me for anything and I knew I would give it to her, but I didn't want to step away either.

“He was so earnest in his grand gesture, I hated that she didn't go to him,” she whispered.

“You would've gone to him, forgiven him?”

“I'm here now aren't I?”

“So ‘Say Anything’ is your least favourite eighties movie, but my poor imitation of that scene garners me forgiveness?”

She didn't answer right away, just searched my eyes and then pressed up on her toes to press her lips against mine. I closed my eyes as the softness of those two plump pillows slid against my lips and I pulled her closer.

Could anything feel more perfect than having her in my arms, willingly kissing me? I really didn't think anything could compare to it. I hadn't kissed anyone since my wife had died, and there was a brief moment when I could have made a comparison between the two, but it was a moment only and then it was gone. The two couldn't be compared, each was completely different and completely perfect in their own way. Priscilla deserved more than to be held up against an impossible ideal. It was like trying to decide who your favourite child was when the fact was you loved them both, but differently.

The ‘L’ word had snuck into my thoughts, unbidden. Was I in love with Priscilla? At the moment I was in love with the way she felt against me and the way her lips felt as she kissed me, but did that mean I was in love with her?

She must have felt the doubts swirling in my mind because she broke the kiss and looked up at me, her eyes glassy, her lids heavy. My eyes dropped to her lips, swollen from my kiss and my heart clenched, my mind going completely blank as I bent my head to her and captured those lips once again.

She shifted against me, her arms going around my shoulders and threading through my hair. I ran my tongue along her lip and she gasped, opening to me and allowing me to deepen the kiss. My hands were splayed across her back and I pressed her towards me so that I could feel her softness against my chest.

How could such a little thing as a kiss feel so big? It wasn't much more than the joining of lips, but the way it made me feel was a whole lot more than seemed warranted for such a small action.

I lifted my head to look down at her, to reassure myself that this was real and not some dream that would dissipate like mist. Her eyes were closed, her thick lashes brushed the flushed pink apples of her cheeks and her lips were crimson, not from stain or gloss or lipstick, but from my kisses, from that seemingly inconsequential joining of lips.

Her eyes fluttered open and she looked up at me like I hung the moon and I would, if she asked. I searched her face, memorising her features, memorising the way she felt in my arms. I wanted to remember this moment, whatever happened going forward, I wanted to preserve this small window of time out of time when everything was perfect.

My hands slid up her back and into that thick luscious red hair, freeing it from her work day chignon and letting it tumble down her back and through my fingers. She smiled in bliss and closed her eyes as I massaged her scalp and dragged my fingers through those thick locks of deep red.

“Oh,” she groaned, “I love it when people play with my hair.”

I chuckled as she softened against me and purred like a cat. A grumbling noise from her stomach turned my chuckle to a laugh.

“How about I feed you, instead,” I said.

She sighed contentedly, “Okay,” she said opening her eyes and smiling at me.

My heart lurched again and I turned toward the table, taking a moment to catch my breath and reorder my thoughts. I had no idea where this was going, but I knew I needed to take it slow, for both our sakes.