S’more to Lose by Beth Merlin (20)

Chapter Twenty

The Royal Wedding

Six months later, the “wedding hoopla” hadn’t died down one bit. If anything, it’d reached a fever pitch. It felt like every news and entertainment outlet was reporting on royal wedding stories around the clock. Despite all the pandemonium, Victoria and I managed to develop a more genuine friendship, grabbing dinner or a drink each time she was in town. I was grateful to know Victoria beyond the royal façade and as a result was able to make some adjustments to the designs that further captured her essence.

In the last few weeks, Jamie and I hadn’t slept more than a couple hours a night, most of the time just crashing somewhere in the studio when we were literally too exhausted to sew another seam or line another garment. But with the help of the artists at several ateliers across Europe—who feverishly stitched sequins and rhinestones and worked on embroidery and feathers—we completed the wedding collection in the nick of time.

Jamie rewarded himself with an Ambien, hoping that by the time we landed in London he’d be somewhat human again. It took me several tries to shake him out of his deep sleep. He finally started to come around as the flight attendants were coming through the cabin to remind everyone to adjust their seats and open the window shades in preparation for landing.

He stretched his arms up over his head. “I feel like Sleeping Beauty just waking up from a hundred-year nap,” he said through a yawn.

“You were asleep before we even took off.”

He rubbed his eyes and turned to me. “Did you sleep?”

I looked down at my watch. “I think I dozed for an hour or so.”

“I told you to take an Ambien.”

“And I told you the last and only time I took one on a flight, I woke up to discover I was covered in my in-flight meal, which I had zero recollection of eating. Besides, I don’t think it would’ve helped. I’m too anxious.”

“Why didn’t you take a Xanax?”

I help up my fingers. “I took two.”

“And only slept an hour?” He faced forward and stuffed his headphones back into his bag. “You need to relax. We have a few more fittings, and then, of course, we’ll be on hand at the different events, but the hard part is over.”

The plane pulled into the gate and I stood up to retrieve my bag from the overhead compartment. “Everything arrived to the space Gemma rented for us?”

Jamie scrolled to his email and held his phone up to me. “Confirmation right here. Everything was delivered and is there waiting for us to unpack it.”

“Well, that’s a relief. When does Thom get here?”

“The surrogate’s been having contractions. He wants to stay local, just in case.”

I shook my head. “I can’t believe it.”

“The timing’s not ideal, but we’ll figure it out. What about Gideon? When are you planning on seeing him?”

“With the schedule Gemma has us on, I may not have much time until the actual wedding. Did I tell you? Right after we finish up, Gideon’s coming back to New York with me to celebrate his first American Thanksgiving.”

“You probably did, I just can’t keep anything in my brain that isn’t wedding related. I still can’t believe you’re going on the arm of an earl.”

“He isn’t an earl yet. Anyway, at this rate, I might be going naked. In all the craziness, I didn’t even think about what I’d wear. I don’t have a dress for the ceremony or anything to wear to the reception.”

Jamie pulled out his leather-bound dossier and turned to the third page. He pointed to the tenth line. “There,” he said, “between the family tea and Victoria’s hen party, a whole three hours on our own. I told you, by hook or by crook we’ll find you a dress.”

I held up two fingers.

“We’ll find two dresses,” Jamie said. “And a fascinator.”

“Ugh, I look terrible in hats.” I pulled the dossier toward me to get a better look. “Hen party? Victoria’s having a hen party?”

“Look at the next line. Alexander’s having a stag party, so I guess all is fair in royal love and marriage. From what it says here, it’s gonna be a low-key night at her parents’ house with her sister and closest friends. We’ll be off duty, so plenty of time to find you something fabulous to wear to the wedding of the century.”

We disembarked and pulled our luggage through the gate. Gemma had warned us there could be press waiting right outside the terminal and we should make as rapid an escape as possible if we didn’t want to get caught in the crossfire of photographers.

We rushed through the terminal, which was bursting with royal wedding memorabilia. Every souvenir shop, newsstand, and even Starbucks was selling some sort of commemorative mug, plate, or T-shirt.

I asked Jamie if he’d mind if I stopped into one of the stores on our way out of the airport for a bottle of water. I grabbed a large bottle of Perrier, took it to the counter, and pulled out a few pounds to pay for it. The cashier rang me up, and when she heard my American accent, asked me if I’d be interested in a Victoria and Alexander commemorative teapot.

“I’m actually coming, not going—maybe I’ll pick one up on my way out of town,” I said.

“Makes sense. I’d wait to buy the version with her in the actual wedding dress too. Can I interest you in the issue of American Vogue with Victoria on the cover? We just got in a shipment of them. Can’t keep ’em on the shelf.”

“I already saw it back home. They hit the stands last week.”

She handed me the bottle of water and receipt and wished me a good visit.

Jamie was waiting for me outside the store. “Gemma just sent me a text. There’s a car waiting for us outside baggage claim under the name Abbott.”

I did a double take. “How does Gemma know my mother’s maiden name?”

“MI6? I have no idea? I have a feeling we’re going to need to roll with things this next week.”

We checked into The Savoy Hotel under two different pseudonyms and went to our rooms to freshen up before our first appointment at the makeshift studio Gemma had rented in Convent Garden. I fumbled with the key card until the sensor finally turned green and I heard the click of the door’s lock opening. I pushed my way inside and was greeted by a huge, beautiful bouquet of flowers I assumed were from Victoria or Gemma. I opened the small card. They were from Gideon.

I smiled and picked up my phone to call him. “Thank you for my flowers.”

“You’re very welcome.”

“One question, how’d you know where to find me? I’m staying under a pseudonym.”

“I have my ways.”

I imagined Gideon smiling coyly on the other end of the phone. “Linney?”

“Linney,” he repeated. “She asked Victoria. Can I ask you a question?”

I moved the flowers over to the nightstand. “Anything.”

“Who’s Reid Codswild?”

“Reid’s my middle name, and I can’t believe you don’t remember who Mrs. Codswild is?”

“Refresh my memory.”

“When we met at Highclere Castle, you couldn’t find my tour tickets. You gave Jamie and me the Codswilds’ and told us to play along.”

“That’s right. How could I not remember? I thought maybe it was your porn star name. What’s the game with that? I forget.”

“I think you take your first pet’s name and the first street you lived on. Mine’s actually pretty good. Chloe Madison. What would yours be?”

“Hmmm, let me see…Napoleon Cheshire.”

I sat down on the bed and slipped off my shoes. “Wow. What kind of pet was Napoleon, may I ask?”

“A horse.”

“I should’ve guessed your first pet was a pony.”

He laughed and said, “I picked up the issue of American Vogue about the wedding yesterday. I know Victoria was supposed to be the star of the magazine, but you looked gorgeous, and the article was great. Funny, honest, and the perfect amount of humility and self-deprecation. Us Brits eat that sort of thing up.”

“I don’t know how honest. I’m sure you noticed Jamie and I left out some key facts about how we came together as designers, and everything about Chinooka.”

“I noticed, but nobody else would. This late in the game, some skeletons are better off remaining in the closet.”

Maybe Perry had been right all along. Nobody else needed to get hurt by our mistakes. I was able to keep the job of a lifetime and he’d keep his relationship with Annabelle. By this time next week, Perry and I could go back to being mere acquaintances. The past would stay firmly in the past where it belonged.

I took a deep breath. “I just need to get through the next few days.”

“Speaking of the next few days, when am I seeing you?”

I turned through the pages of Gemma’s schedule. “I’m pretty much spoken for until the day of the wedding.”

“Shame. Well, Ms. Codswild, what if I were to just show up at your door, unannounced?”

A smile crept across my face. “If Napoleon Cheshire were to show up, I suppose I’d have to let him in.”

“Duly noted. I’ll keep that in mind.”

“I hope you do,” I said. “Let me hang up, though. I have to meet Jamie in the lobby in half an hour, and after that, we’re in fittings most of the day.”

“Go. Go. I know you’re crazy, but I’m glad you’re here. I can’t wait to have you on my arm in a few days,” Gideon said before hanging up.

In the last few months, things between Gideon and me had really blossomed. He’d made several more trips to New York, and I’d made several visits to London, spending as much time with him as my busy schedule permitted. We found ourselves in an easy rhythm, and slowly but surely, I was falling for Viscount Satterley.

I unpacked and left the room to meet Jamie down in the lobby. He was sitting on a large leather sofa, holding two steaming cups of coffee.

“How’d you have time to do a coffee run?”

He handed me one cup. “Nespresso machine in my room.”

“Remember that one in the break room of Top Designer you had to teach me how to use?” I peeked out the lobby’s curtains and onto the street, which was swarming with paparazzi.

Jamie closed the curtain and took my hand to walk outside. “We’ve come a long way, baby,” he said.

I took one more peek out the window and shook my head. “We sure have.”

After a short drive, our black cab pulled up to the address Jamie read off Gemma’s itinerary. Up until now, we’d been using Victoria’s family home in Kensington for most of our meetings and all of our fittings. With so many relatives and friends coming in, it wasn’t practical to keep working out of Victoria’s sunroom, so Gemma had secured us a small studio. It wasn’t much bigger than my apartment, but it was more than enough for our needs this week.

Jamie pulled the inventory sheet out of his dossier and started checking numbers against garment bags while I checked the accessories inventory list against the boxes stacked in the corner of the room. To my surprise, Anna Wintour had come through. A representative from Cartier was coming by later in the week to deliver several carats of jewels to be affixed to the collar and cuffs of the dress. The veil was just about complete, but Jamie wanted to see it on Victoria before finishing off the hems to ensure it laid just how he’d imagined.

“All good on my side,” Jamie said. “All the dresses are here and accounted for.”

I closed up the last box. “We’re good here too. All the accessories and embellishments made it.” I looked down at my watch. “Victoria will be here in about an hour, so let’s unpack the wedding dress and have that ready.”

“I was thinking the same thing. I’m hoping we can get away with one more fitting today, and then a final one on Thursday.

I crossed my fingers and held them up in the air. “As long as she doesn’t have too many changes and hasn’t lost too much weight since our last trip, we should be golden.”

Jamie walked his phone over to me. “This is from last night. Victoria was at the Red Coat Club. She looks good. Maybe she’s lost a few pounds, but nothing too drastic.”

I took his phone and looked at the photo. Under the picture was the caption, “Victoria Ellicott spends one of her last single nights out on the town with sister, Annabelle Ellicott, and Perry Gillman.”

I handed the phone back to Jamie. “Yeah, she looks great.”

“What, what is it?”

“Nothing.”

Jamie scrolled down past the picture. “Sorry, Gi, I wouldn’t’ve shown it to you if I’d seen that.”

“No, no, it’s fine. I’m used to seeing their names together now.”

Jamie rubbed my forearm and went back to his side of the room to begin unpacking the wedding gown while I set up the dress form. For the next hour, we worked in tandem getting everything organized for Victoria’s fitting.

Forty-five minutes later, Victoria came rushing into the studio, Gemma and Annabelle close behind.

“I think we lost the paparazzi somewhere on Charing Cross Road.” She gave me a double kiss on the cheek and pulled off her Burberry plaid poncho and sunglasses. She tossed them onto the table in the center of the room and looked to the doorway. “At least I hope we did.”

Gemma sat down on the beat-up mustard-yellow settee the former tenants had left behind. “We did,” she said. “Barely.”

Annabelle took the seat next to her. I hadn’t seen her in months—not since the weekend we spent together at Badgley Hall. She looked gorgeous. Her hair was a few shades lighter than her signature chestnut color, and her skin was perfectly sun-kissed like she’d just came back from a few days in St. Tropez or somewhere equally fabulous.

Victoria crossed the room to look over the racks of clothing. “I can’t believe all this is for me. You both have absolutely outdone yourselves.”

“Wait ’til you see the wedding gown,” Jamie said.

Victoria clapped her hands together and squealed.

Jamie motioned for Victoria to follow him to the changing area, and I went to get my alterations kit from one of the boxes. Annabelle followed me.

“Gigi, what are you doing Tuesday night?” she asked.

Tuesday was the one night Jamie and I had free to go look for a dress for the wedding reception. “I think I have plans,” I answered.

“With Gideon?” she asked.

“What? No.” I was still thrown by the idea she knew so much about my current relationship, yet nothing about my prior one. “With Jamie, to do some shopping.”

“Cancel them. I’m inviting you to Victoria’s hen party.”

“That’s really sweet of you, but I know it’s just close friends and family.”

“No. It’s all the people who love Victoria and who Victoria loves, and she loves you and Jamie. She wants both of you there.”

“We’re gonna be swamped with all this,” I said, motioning around the room.

“You just said you were taking the night off to do some shopping. Victoria will be so disappointed if you can’t make it.”

Just as I opened my mouth to protest, Victoria emerged from behind the makeshift curtain in her wedding dress. Annabelle’s mouth fell open at the same time as Gemma’s.

“What do you all think?” she asked. “Not half bad, right?”

“Oh, Vic, there are no words,” Annabelle said.

Gemma cupped her hands over her mouth. “Breathtaking, just breathtaking.”

Victoria did a slow spin in front of the mirror. “It’s an absolute work of art,” she said, admiring it from every angle.

Jamie winked at me from across the room and I let out the breath I didn’t know I was holding.

Victoria reached down toward the train. “I think we just need a few small adjustments here, and maybe back here.”

I jumped up with my pincushion and knelt beside the dress to pin the hem. When I looked up, Victoria was fiddling with the collar.

Jamie came up behind her and flipped it up. “It should sit like this. The stones will be placed all around at the base of the neckline.”

“Cartier really agreed to loan all those jewels to you?”

“I guess Anna Wintour really does have some pull,” Jamie said, grinning.

Annabelle walked over to examine the dress more closely. “What happens to the gems after the wedding?”

“We’ll replace them with semiprecious replicas of the real thing,” Jamie answered.

I finished pinning the bottom and stood up to address her complaints about the extra material in the back and on the sides.

Victoria craned her neck around. “Show Annabelle the sketch that inspired the dress.”

“That’s okay, sometimes it’s better when the magician doesn’t reveal all her tricks,” I said, avoiding eye contact with her.

“Please, Gigi,” Victoria said, clasping her hands together. “I want her to understand the whole vision.”

I went to my tote bag and reluctantly pulled out my sketchbook. I turned to the middle and opened to the page with the sketch of Linda in the Elizabeth gown I’d done at Chinooka.

“That’s an Elizabeth I dress,” Annabelle said. “I’ve seen it in Perry’s research.”

“Isn’t it amazing?” Victoria said. “And this lace,” she said, running her hand over the bodice, “was hand embroidered at the Royal School of Needlepoint in Hampton Court Palace.”

Annabelle turned to me. “I didn’t know you were an Elizabeth aficionado?”

I could feel my cheeks heating up. “Me either,” I mumbled.

“We should find some time for you and Perry to connect. He’s going to flip out when I tell him Vic’s dress took its inspiration from an Elizabeth I gown.”

Jamie put his hand on Annabelle’s shoulder. “Maybe don’t say anything. Let’s see if he notices the subtle nod to her on his own.”

“Of course,” she replied.

Victoria turned to Annabelle. “Belles, did you ask them?”

“Ask us what?” Jamie answered.

“If you two will come to my hen party?”

“Really?” Jamie screeched.

“Of course. After all these months of working together, I consider you both good friends. I hope you feel the same about me?” Victoria said with a warm smile.

“Of course we do,” Jamie answered before walking to the clothing rack and pulling the last garment bag off the stand. “I actually have a little surprise for you. I had a feeling you’d want something special for one of your last single nights. I whipped this up a couple weeks ago.” He unzipped the bag to show off the dress inside.

Victoria flew off the pedestal and over to Jamie. “It’s fantastic.”

I picked up the gold-fringed dress and examined it. The workmanship was intricate and absolutely exquisite. “You just whipped this up?”

Jamie shrugged.

Victoria clasped my hand and then Jamie’s. “Well, now it’s settled,” You’re both coming. I won’t hear another word about it.”

And that was how I ended up at the bachelorette party for the future Queen of England.