The palace refused to send Remington the name of his perfect match partner?

The morning letter irked Remington, even as he rode his horse with Blackwell across Avce’s mountainous terrain. Curiosity drove him. How often was he turned down? This afternoon he’d get his suit tailored as promised, then slip into the palace and ask Prince Antonio for the name personally. He wasn’t going to cancel his wedding no matter whose name was listed. Marrying Cassidy made the most sense and they’d be happy enough.

At the stables, he slowed his horse and brought him to the Duke of Oakley’s stable boys for a good wash down and rub.

They’d ridden hard this morning, exercising their steeds and themselves, traversing the land they were responsible for, as their ancestors had before them.

Blackwell, the Duke of Oakley, finished with his horse and joined him near the gate.

Neither man spoke, but neither felt they had to. Blackwell married tomorrow, and he married the day after, though Blackwell’s ceremony was to be small. However, as he neared Blackwell’s estate, he noticed that the windows rattled. His friend looked confused as they heard the bass of music pulsating through the air. Remy turned and asked, “What’s going on?”

Blackwell stilled, gazed at him with suspicion, and then shook his head. “I’ve no idea. Did you put together a bachelor party?”

“No.” Blackwell raced toward the house, and Remy followed. “With Grannie dying, I didn’t think it appropriate.”

In fact, he’d thought to get home to check on her but he’d help his friend clear the house first. They rushed up the stairs and cheap floral perfume itched his nose. Blackwell opened the door releasing the blare of music. “Well, let’s find out what the ruckus is—I can’t imagine anybody else putting something together—nobody knows.”

Naked prostitutes were everywhere. Remington rubbed his eyes to be sure but then a huge bubble of laughter emerged from his throat. There was no way straight-laced, boring Blackwell would have approved of this. He’d have done it for him if he had more time, though he’d not have planned this many women. While funny, it could be trouble. He patted his friend on the back and whistled. “This looks more like an orgy than a bachelor party.”

Blackwell clenched his jaw. Remington took out his cell phone to snap a few photos while his friend said, “Where is security? None of these people should be here and they need to go before Donna comes home.”

Remington snapped some photos. “She won’t like all these naked women?”

A few prostitutes walked over to him and he posed with them, grinning wide while Blackwell sputtered, “Are you taking a selfie?”

“Cassidy isn’t going to care what I do or who I do it with.” He shrugged, and handed his phone to Blackwell showing only the key pad. Unlike Blackwell, who married for love, he was marrying a friend and someone he’d not need to worry about getting jealous.

Blackwell shook his head like he was disappointed in him. “If you say so. I couldn’t live like that. Donna is going to be angry—and rightfully so.”

A car cut its engine out front. The fiancée, Donna, was here. Remington stepped backwards to not be in the line of fire.

Three prostitutes walked over to Blackwell and began rubbing on him. Blackwell tensed. “Get off me. Now.”

The door opened and Donna stared at Blackwell. Remy inched closer to the door. Luckily Cassidy would never stare at him like that, ever. Blackwell’s mother and another older woman walked in behind Donna.

“Blackwell?” Donna asked as both women stood like sentinels beside her.

Blackwell rushed to her side. “Donna! I don’t know what’s happening. We just came back from riding.”

As he passed, Remington reached out and took his phone back from Blackwell. “I’ll vouch for your fiancé. We were both shocked when we walked through the door.”

Martina shook her head and stared at all the women. “Where are the lights and security?”

Blackwell flipped the lights on.

“Mother, I swear…”

Just as his grannie would have done, Blackwell’s mother took her phone from her pocketbook and raised her voice. “I’m calling the police. If any woman is still here within five minutes, they will be arrested.”

She sounded exactly like Grannie one of the few times he’d thrown a house party in high school without her permission—she’d cleared the house of all high schoolers in under a minute.

Blackwell stood near his fiancée and blocked her during the mass exit. “Hold on.”

Whoever did this had a strange sense of humor. No one would bother with this for him and Cassidy.

Donna told Blackwell, “I was almost trampled in the mess.”

Then Blackwell’s mother said loudly, “The police are coming. I want to know who is responsible for this.”

If there was anyone left in the house, they’d jump out a window to get away rather than face possible arrest. Remington felt his friend was in good hands. He was eager to get home to get the report from Grannie’s doctors.

Blackwell and Donna seemed intimate as she brushed his cheek. “Blackwell, are you okay?”

His best friend relaxed into Donna. “You believe I had nothing to do with these women being here?”

At least his friend was marrying someone he loved, which had been on his agenda. Remington inched toward the door and escape. Donna said, “Yes. Even if Cassidy hadn’t warned me, I would believe you.”

Wait. His Cassidy? She knew about this? The phone in his back pocket felt like it burned as he asked, “My Cassidy?”

Donna stepped away from Blackwell and met his gaze. “She said Chelsea was angry and intended to do something.”

Right. Blackwell had asked for her sister’s hand and it was best not to get too involved in whatever his future sister-in-law did. He winked at them. “Well, I have to get back to my grandmother, but I’ll thank my future sister-in-law for that two-minute bachelor party.”

Donna stepped in Remington’s way. “Treat Cassidy kindly, Lord Sky. She really is one of the nicest people I’ve met here.”

He bowed his head. “She is nice. We can agree on that. She’s also too smart for someone like me, but that’s how the cards were played. See you both tomorrow.”

Blackwell walked him toward the front door. As a goodbye, he said, “Thanks, Remy.”

The road was clear as he walked to his car, which made him laugh as he wondered if the naked women had carpooled, but then he sobered. He needed to find out what the doctors said regarding his grandmother’s prognosis.

He drove his black Ferrari home. How had Cassidy’s day been? Had she gotten her haircut? He looked forward to seeing her again tonight. And the next, and the next. Back on his estate, he handed the keys to Fari and headed inside the front door.

The doctors, one female, fiftyish and blonde, the other male and portly, were just leaving Grannie’s room and he crossed his arms while he joined them. “How is she?”

“She’s happier and that’s helping her,” Dr. Marston said, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “She’s excited for your wedding with Lady Cassidy, my lord.”

“Can she go to the church?” he asked. “Last week she wasn’t to be moved.”

Dr. Harper patted the stethoscope peeking from his suit pocket. “We both agreed to sit with her during the ceremony and be on hand just in case. She’s stronger and was definitely negotiating to get what she wants.”

He glanced up at the crystal chandelier in the main hall to blink back grateful tears and then met the doctor’s gazes. “Now that sounds like my Grannie. Is it possible she’ll recover fully?”

“Last week we would have said impossible,” Dr. Marston said. “Now, I don’t want to give you false hope, but she’s stronger. It’s a good sign in recovery, but this might just be adrenaline because her boy is getting married.”

“Then nothing will stop the wedding,” Remington decided. “Thank you both.” He walked them out and then returned to his grandmother’s room and knocked before quietly opening the door. She had her eyes closed and seemed to be sleeping. He almost backed out, but she suddenly sat up. “I’m going to your wedding.”

“The doctors told me.” He winked and leaned against the door. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired, but satisfied.” She let out a sigh and lay back down. “I need a nap now but I hope you and Cassidy make it for dinner here with me again.”

“Of course.” He would agree to whatever she wanted. “I have to get my tux for Blackwell’s wedding. I’m sure the tailor will want to make sure that both suits fit.” He had a closet filled with designer suits and matching leather shoes. Ties, belts, cufflinks. Jeans, slacks—he liked clothes and was always conscious of his appearance.

Perhaps he was shallow and vain as Cassidy had accused him of being for the past fifteen years.

With her eyes closed, Grannie said, “It is their job. The staff will call you if I need something.”

Now that sounded like her again. He’d moped for days when they said she’d not make it, but he hoped she’d stick around forever. His temperament had been one of Lucinda’s final complaints, not that she’d mattered. If Cassidy had been here, she’d have felt the same emotions he had.

He left the house where Fari waved him down like he wanted to talk. Remy stopped and asked, “Yes?”

Fari held his hat in his hand but stared at the ground. “Lady Cassidy’s car needs a complete rebuild. The vehicle is over fifteen years old and it’s not safe for her to drive. There are too many problems to be fixed. This morning I lent her the Mercedes.”

“Thank you.” His wife needed to be the Countess that people expected to see and she couldn’t do that in a broken-down Renault. “I’ll speak to her tonight. She can either keep the Mercedes or we pick out a new car for her if she prefers something else, Fari. I’ll take care of her.”

“Very good my lord.” Fari backed away from his black Ferrari, his duty done.

The stop at the tux shop only took ten minutes before he continued his drive to the palace. Prince Antonio should be around and he wanted to know the name of his supposed true love. It didn’t matter, not really, but the refusal letter this morning made no sense. He was on good terms with the palace as far as he knew. After parking, he went to the main door and asked for the prince.

Antonio came to greet him and shook his hand. “How are you?”

Remy stood straighter and kept a respectful distance—he knew the prince, of course, but they weren’t friends. “Getting prepared for my own wedding, Your Highness. I was confused though. This morning I received a letter from the palace.”

The prince stared at him blankly. “About?”

Right. Good. Perhaps the rejection was a paperwork error. He took the paper out of his back pocket and said, “I was denied the name of whoever the computer department claims is my match—it worked so well for you all that I was willing to try—thought it won’t change my marriage in two days, at this point. I was curious why I was denied.”

Antonio shrugged and handed the paper back. “I’ve no idea. My IT Department took a half day, but come with me.”

They walked downstairs of the palace. Remington saw an office for Prince Marco and one for Prince Lucio. They didn’t stop there but went to the end of the hall to a larger chamber across from a small prison cell that must have replaced the dungeon of ages past. “Thanks for whatever you can do.”

The small office with black leather seats and a mahogany desk that overlooked the garden was clearly used daily from the unfiled papers that showed on the shelves. Antonio flipped open a laptop and typed. “I don’t have the whole program on a web server but I know where the search history is. Give me a few minutes.”

At least this was an oversight or something bureaucratic that wasn’t personal—because that note had seemed personal. His duty was with Cassidy, but he’d asked for this after Lucinda left and now he was curious. He leaned forward in his chair. “Again, thank you for anything you can do, Your Highness.”

Antonio hit print to what looked like computer code. “I think I got it. Can you get the print out over there?” He gestured to a long, thin desk against the wall with a second printer.

Remington turned around and picked up the paper, staring blankly at the page. He read it again and a third time. Seriously? Cassidy Bright was his match? He blinked but there it was again. Her name. “This can’t be right.”

He rubbed his forehead and looked at the prince.

Antonio asked, “Is there a problem?”

He held the paper close to his chest. “Is there a search history for my fiancée as well? Lady Cassidy Bright?”

“You’re marrying Cassidy? Ah. She must have sent you that refusal letter.” Antonio studied him.

“What?” Remington held his breath, waiting.

“Lady Cassidy is my IT Department,” Antonio said. “It’s her program.”

That explained the denial. She didn’t like him; she thought he was vain and shallow and a prankster. He released a rush of air and ignored the buzzing of his skin. “Does she have a search profile?”

Antonio typed and then hit print again. “Yes. Why—what does yours say?”

Right. Of course. He flipped the paper and placed it on the desk so that the prince could read the truth. “That we’re perfectly matched.”

“Now I’m curious.” A huge smile grew on the prince’s face. Remington turned and picked up the second sheet. Remington Burke, perfect match for Cassidy Bright. Antonio asked, “What’s hers say?”

“Me.” Remy showed the prince, then scooped both print-outs up. Even his hair felt electrified and he needed to talk to Cassidy, now.

He stood and the chair skidded on the polished oak floors. Antonio rose and offered his hand. “Sounds like it will be a lovely wedding.”

Remington shook the prince’s hand and took a moment to think this over. He and Cassidy needed to have a conversation. She should have told him this, not that it mattered. Love was an illusion but if he understood correctly, she believed in the emotion far more than he realized. “Thank you, Your Highness. I’ll speak to Cassidy about this tonight. She should have told me.”

The prince nodded. “Good afternoon and congratulations.”

“Thank you for everything.” Remington left the palace.

How Cassidy had kept this to herself was beyond him. She must have sent him the letter denying his request. He’d show her the print-outs before dinner with Grannie. Perhaps she had a good reason that he couldn’t figure out right now, but he’d at least ask.

If she believed they were destined for true love, though, they had a problem. Their marriage was a business deal, just as he preferred.