Chapter Twenty-One
“What are we doing here? It’s after nine—the store’s not even going to be open.”
“I may have done a little name dropping,” Jamie answered. “Although I don’t know why you didn’t just take my suggestion and contact someone at British Vogue. I’m sure they would’ve hooked you up.”
“I’m not going to this wedding as Georgica Goldstein, designer. I’m not looking to make a fashion statement. I just want my Cinderella moment—where she walks into the ballroom and catches the prince’s eye. Although I guess in this case it’s the viscount’s eye.”
“I get it,” Jamie said. “Which is why I called and explained the situation. The owner said he’d keep the store open as late as we need so you can find something to wear.”
I threw my arms around Jamie’s neck. “You’re the best. You know that, right?”
He winked at me. “I do know that. Now, let’s go live out our Pretty Woman fantasy. The store is all ours.”
I took Jamie’s hand, and we walked into the swanky high-end vintage shop I’d found my Givenchy dress at months earlier. The owner and a sales clerk were waiting for us with two glasses of champagne.
“I pulled a few things I thought might be right,” the clerk said. “They’re hanging in the dressing room. If nothing’s to your liking, I have another rack of options over there.”
I looked over at Jamie, who lifted his glass in mock cheers. “Let the games begin,” he said.
I walked into the dressing room, which was covered wall to wall in vintage couture gowns. I pulled the changing curtain to the side and hollered out to him, “I don’t have the first clue where to begin.”
“Go in alphabetical order—start with Chanel end with Valentino,” he yelled back.
Not the worst strategy. I gently took a Chanel gown off the hanger, held it up, and slipped it on. It was a cream silk evening dress with a fringe skirt to the floor. It was sweet and demure. Jamie would hate it.
I came out of the dressing room, and Jamie put his hand up. “No.”
“Really? I think it’s kind of pretty.”
“It is. But no,” he said, shaking his head.
I did a turn in front of the mirror. “You sure?”
“It’s cream, which isn’t white, but it’s still a no-no.” He put his hand on the small of my back and shuffled me back into the dressing room.
I came out in several other options—Dior, Gucci, McQueen. Each dress met with some form of Jamie’s disapproval. I changed into the last gown and yelled to Jamie from inside the dressing room.
“I’m all the way at Valentino, so I hope this is it.”
I emerged in a gathered metallic silk gown with floral appliques, an open back, and a small train. Jamie stood to examine the gown up close before backing away to take the whole look in.
“Now that’s a dress.”
“You like?”
“I love. But there is one small problem with it.”
I turned to examine the back of the dress for pulls or holes. “What’s that? I don’t see anything wrong?”
“You may outshine our designs and the bride.”
I tilted my head. “Be serious. What do you think? It’s too much, right?”
“Victoria didn’t pick Valentino, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t. Go for it. This is your Cinderella dress. I can’t imagine Prince Charming, er, or Earl Charming, not falling more in love with you after he sees you in this stunner.”
After that, Jamie helped me select a tasteful dusty rose-colored Dior suit for the wedding ceremony, with a matching fascinator and a fun Stella McCartney dress for the hen party. We brought the garments up to the register.
I closed one eye and handed over my credit card. “Explain to me again how I can rationalize buying all this?”
“When the event’s over, you’ll sell it all on one of those designer resale websites. The dresses may even be worth more because they attended the royal wedding.”
Jamie had a good point. The store’s owner came out to take a look at my selections.
“Tell me quickly, what’s the damage?” I asked the clerk.
“Don’t worry about it. We want to lend you these items for the wedding,” the owner said, handing me back my card.
“I can’t accept all this. You forget I’m in your same line of work. I know how expensive these dresses are.”
“For the person who dressed our future queen for her wedding, I have to insist.”
“What an incredibly generous offer. Okay, well, let me buy the Valentino at least. I may want to hold on to that one for sentimental reasons,” I said.
“Deal.”
Two nights later, Jamie and I pulled up to the Ellicotts’ home for the hen party. I was surprised to see so few paparazzi. Their home was usually swarming with photographers.
Jamie rolled his window back up. “Gemma planted a story that Annabelle was hosting the hen party in a private room at a nightclub in East London. I’d wager you’d find most of the London press camped out there.”
As was our new routine, we made a mad dash from the car to Victoria’s front door. Gemma let us in before we even had a chance to knock. Jamie handed her a large bottle of Cristal Rose Brut Champagne with a large gold bow tied around it.
“Here, these are for you,” Gemma said, handing us each a sash that said Hen’s Night In along with the date. She motioned for us to follow her into the formal salon.
“Gigi, Jamie—perfect timing,” Victoria yelled from across the room. “We’re about to play pin the crown on the prince.” She pointed to a picture of Prince Alexander in a very skimpy European bathing suit that was hanging on the wall.
Victoria was dressed casually in jeans and a “Bride-to-Be” tank top and was holding court on one side of the salon while Annabelle was busy setting up activities on the other. Jamie took two glasses of champagne from a server and passed me one. I took it from him and wandered over to a bookshelf in a far corner. I picked up one of the crystal frames from the shelf and examined the photograph inside.
Annabelle crossed to me from the opposite side of the room. “That’s my mother on her wedding day.”
“When I met your mother, I thought Victoria was her spitting image. But in this picture, you look just like her.”
Annabelle smiled, set the picture back down on the shelf, and turned to the room. “Who’s ready to play the bachelorette version of The Newlywed Game? Vic, your seat awaits.” Annabelle motioned to an armchair decorated to look like a formal throne.
Annabelle picked up a champagne and a pile of index cards from off the table. She downed the glass in two gulps and set it back down before reaching over to the serving tray for another one. She carried the cards and drink to the center of the room and asked everyone to gather round. Jamie took a seat next to Gemma and me on the couch.
“Let’s find out just how well my sister and Alexander know each other. Vic, we asked Alex to answer a series of questions, and you have to guess how he responded.”
Annabelle picked up a bowl of gumballs. “For each answer you guess incorrectly, you have to chew a piece.” Annabelle looked down at her first card. “First question, where did Alex say you two met?”
Victoria narrowed her eyes. “He’s going to say we met at his aunt’s birthday party when we were about fifteen, but we really met in cotillion class when we were six or seven. He didn’t want to dance with me. I was devastated.”
“Let’s see how Alex answered.” Annabelle flipped to the next card. “He said, ‘She doesn’t think I remember, but we met in cotillion class. I did want to dance with her, but I was too shy and nervous to ask.’”
A collective awwwww reverberated throughout the room.
“That’s sweet,” Annabelle mumbled before throwing back her second glass of champagne and shuffling to the next index card. “Where did Alex say you shared your first kiss?”
“It was our second year of university. This is so embarrassing, but we were all out together at a pub and my roommate bet me I couldn’t get Alex to kiss me. I didn’t even like him, but I wanted to win the bet, so I walked right up and laid one on him.”
Annabelle read off the card. “University. She came out of nowhere and kissed me hard. I was completely blown away by her confidence.” She looked up and around the room. “Two for two. Pretty impressive. Now let’s see if you get this next one right. What did Alex say is your worst habit?”
Victoria scrunched up her nose. “Probably that I run about ten minutes late for almost everything?”
Annabelle looked down and read, “He said you snort when you laugh really hard.”
“I’m going to kill him,” Victoria said through a shrieking laugh.
Annabelle passed Victoria the bowl of gumballs. “Take a piece.”
Victoria popped a piece of gum in her mouth and Annabelle reached for another champagne. Jamie made eye contact with me and held up three fingers representing the number of glasses we’d seen Annabelle down in just the last few minutes. I shrugged my shoulders.
“Last question. What does Alex love most about you?”
Victoria motioned toward the bowl of gumballs. “Pass ’em over, I have no idea how he answered that one.”
Annabelle went to pull out the next card and instead dropped the entire pile on the floor. Jamie jumped up to help her pick them up. She was clearly tipsy bordering on totally drunk.
“Sorry, just give me a second,” Annabelle said.
Annabelle took another glass of champagne and finished it off while she reorganized the cards. Then she pulled a card out from the pile and waved it around. “Alex said, ‘Fish n’ Chips.’ No that can’t be the right answer. Where’s the bloody card?” She asked looking back down at the ground.
I stood up to help her. I flipped through the pile until I found the card with the correlating response, then read it aloud. “Alex said he loves absolutely everything about you. From the way you cry at happy and sad movies to the way you light up a room. He loves that you still sleep with your baby blanket under your pillow and that you know all the words to Spice Girl’s Wannabe. He loves the small freckle on your right shoulder and the one piece of hair you can never get to stay in place. He loves how kind and generous you are and the graceful way you’ve already managed to navigate the realities that come with marrying him. He loves that he fell in love with you at six or seven years old, but that it took another twenty years before you gave him the time of day. He’d gladly wait another hundred years if that’s how long it took to make you his wife.”
My eyes welled up. Victoria was blotting her eyes with a tissue and Annabelle had tears streaming down her face. She wiped them away and polished off one more glass of champagne. Gemma came in and announced the end of the game and that dinner was being served in the sunroom. Annabelle stayed behind to pick up a few more of the cards that’d scattered under Victoria’s chair. I bent down to give her a hand.
“Here, I think these are the last of them.” I handed the stack to Annabelle who was now leaning up against the wall. “You should probably try to eat something. Want me to bring you a plate?”
“I’m fine, don’t worry about me,” she said.
“You sure? I know firsthand how those champagne bubbles can sneak up on you.”
She nodded and suddenly asked, “How are things going with you and Gideon Cooper?”
“Umm, good. We’ve been seeing each other a few months now. He asked me to be his date to the wedding.”
“I’m happy for you. He’s a solid guy. Things haven’t been going so great with me and Perry,” she said, taking a seat in the chair I pulled over to her. “Nobody knows. I didn’t want anything to spoil Victoria’s wedding and God knows, I don’t want the press getting wind of it.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. With all the recent pictures of them out together I’d just assumed I’d be seeing their wedding announced as soon as Victoria and Alexander’s was over.
“I’m sure whatever it is will work itself out.” I headed to join the others for dinner, but Annabelle placed her hand over mine and held it firmly in place.
“He doesn’t want me to move to New York with him,” she said, lowering her voice. “He thinks he’ll be too busy with the show for anything or anyone else. He’s worried I’ll resent him for it down the road.”
“You have your job here. Your family. Maybe he doesn’t want to take you away from all that.”
“He was engaged to someone a few years ago back in New York. He’s never told me much about her and I never pressed. He told me it was completely over and I believed him. But, what if it isn’t over?” She looked up at me.
My breath caught in my throat as a million different thoughts raced through my head. Why didn’t he want Annabelle accompanying him to New York? Sure, he’d be busy and Broadway was a different beast to conquer, but still. Wouldn’t he want his girlfriend by his side?
He couldn’t still have feelings for me, could he? As quickly as the notion came to me, I tried to push it back into the recesses of my mind. We hadn’t spoken once since that moment out by the hedge maze all those months ago. I was moving on with Gideon and he was seeing Annabelle Ellicott, the most eligible woman in all of England. We were over. My heart had finally come to accept what my brain had known all along—we weren’t meant to be.
“I’m sure he just wants to focus on Elizabeth. You know how fanatical he can be about his work,” I said.
Annabelle tilted her head to the side and narrowed her eyes at me. I quickly covered my tracks. “He’s notorious for his work ethic, right? All the articles written about him this year mentioned that fact.”
Annabelle softened her stance. “He is. I’m pretty sure he’s still trying to prove to his father that he amounted to something.”
“Well, there you have it. I’m sure he’s just worried about how the show will play in the states. We Americans aren’t as up on our British history as we should be. Let him get settled and I’m sure he’ll change his mind about wanting you there.”
She shrugged her shoulders. “He’s coming to the wedding to keep up appearances, but after that I guess we’ll see. The worst part is that I really do love him. He’s the most infuriating person I’ve ever met, but I don’t think I’ve ever loved anyone as much.”
“Maybe absence will make the heart grow fonder?” I said, worried the hurt in my voice would betray my outward emotions.
She smiled. “You know what, I think I’ll take your advice and go get something to eat. This is Victoria’s night to act like a fool and embarrass herself, not mine.”
“Good idea,” I said. “I’ll come join you in a minute.”
Annabelle left to join the rest of the party and I sat down on the couch to collect myself. Jamie found me sitting there a few minutes later.
“You’re missing all the fun. Gemma just pinned the crown on the “little prince.” I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone turn that shade of red.”
“I’ll be right in,” I said.
Jamie slid down beside me. “What’s going on, Gi?”
“Annabelle told me she and Perry are on the outs. He doesn’t want her moving to New York with him. She thinks it might have something to do with his former fiancée. The one she knows almost nothing about. I should’ve told her it was me. I should go tell her, right?” I crossed my arms over my stomach. “Did it just get really hot in here? God, I feel sick.” I started to stand up but Jamie yanked me back down to the couch.
“The wedding is in three days. I’m sorry your conscience is eating at you right now, but take a Tums and deal with it. We are too far down this road for there to be any other option. Go get some air or wash your face. Do whatever you need to do, but I better see you in the other room for bridal bingo in five minutes, got it?”
“Got it,” I mumbled.
“Good,” he said and walked back into the other room.
Though Jamie’s tough love act was a hard one to swallow, he was right. We both had too much to lose. We were in the final inning and keeping quiet was really the only option. I took Jamie’s advice and returned to the party where bridal bingo was underway. Victoria’d changed into Jamie’s gold-fringed design and was calling out wedding-themed words that the rest of the guests were furiously scratching off their cards. Annabelle was in the corner eating a plate of pasta. She’d switched out the champagne for a bottle of Perrier and already looked steadier on her feet.
After a few more rounds of bingo, Gemma announced there were cars waiting outside for anyone who wanted to continue the party.
Gemma tapped me on the shoulder. “Alex, Perry, and a couple of Victoria’s other friends are at that new club in Soho, so we’re heading over. They have a private VIP entrance in the back, so it shouldn’t be too much of a hassle if you’re up for it.”
“I think I’m gonna head back to the hotel. It’s been a long couple of days and the next few will be even longer.”
“What about Jamie?”
I looked over to the doorway. Jamie had slipped on his blazer and was following Victoria out of the room.
“He’s always up for a night on the town.”
“Feel free to grab one of the cars outside to take you back to The Savoy.”
As soon as I got back to my room I kicked my shoes off and slithered out of my dress. I wrapped one of the hotel robes around myself and called downstairs to order a burger and fries from room service. I popped the television on, turned up the volume, and went to the bathroom to wash off my makeup.
The Graham Norton Show was just beginning on BBC One. Graham Norton was my favorite talk show host, bar none. I loved the format of the show―celebrities casually hanging out on a couch, drinking and chatting with Graham while also interacting with each other. Graham liked to bring together different personalities, always resulting in funnier and more spontaneous exchanges than you tended to see on American late-night shows.
The voice-over announcer listed off the night’s guests starting with Nicole Kidman and Daniel Radcliffe and ending with the one and only Perry Gillman. After I finished applying some facial moisturizer, I peered out from behind the bathroom door and watched Perry give Graham a bear hug before sitting down on the big red couch next to Daniel. I tiptoed out and sat on the corner of the bed to keep watching.
Graham went through his usual spiel asking the guests about whatever project they were promoting before sitting back and letting the guests talk to each other. Daniel Radcliffe gushed over Elizabeth and asked Perry if he could write in a role for him for the Broadway transfer, even offering to play a piece of scenery just to be in the production. Perry laughed and said he might need to write a narrator into the show since the Broadway investors were pushing him to add in more backstory for American audiences.
Nicole Kidman jumped in, asking Perry what he knew about New York theatergoers and if he’d spent any significant time in the States. I held my breath as he talked about the summers he spent working as a camp counselor in a small town in Pennsylvania. He regaled the studio audience with stories about the Color Wars, Gordy, and his small but pivotal role in the annual Camp Chinooka production of Fiddler on the Roof. Then, Graham changed the subject to the royal wedding and the role Perry was set to play in it. He coyly answered a few questions about Annabelle. Just as he was turning the conversation to the performance he and the Elizabeth cast were planning for the after party, my hotel phone rang.
I reached over to the nightstand to answer it.
“Miss Codswild?” the operator asked.
“This is she.”
“We have a Napoleon Cheshire in the lobby asking to see you? Is it okay to let him up to your room?”
“You can absolutely let him up.” I leaned over to the remote and shut off the TV.
I quickly brushed my hair and spritzed on some perfume. I changed into a T-shirt and pair of jeans and straightened up the room. As I was stuffing the last carry-on suitcase into the closet, Gideon knocked on the door.
“Room service,” he said, carrying a tray into my room. “I rode up with the bellhop, so I offered to bring it to you.”
“Service with a smile. I like it,” I teased.
“I waited for you at the club, but Jamie said you’d gone back to the hotel.”
“I was tired from the week,” I answered.
“I thought it might have had something to do with the fact Perry was also there?”
“I just wasn’t in the mood to dodge paparazzi. I didn’t even know you’d be at Alex’s stag party. You never said anything.”
“I think I was a last-minute addition, but how do you refuse a prince? I don’t know why, but I got the feeling Perry was hoping you’d show up too?”
“He and Annabelle are having some issues. I’m sure he just wasn’t himself.”
Gideon raised his eyebrows.
“Annabelle had a little too much champagne and decided to unload on me,” I said.
“Ahh, I see.”
I pulled Gideon toward me. “Can we not talk about them tonight? I don’t want to talk about Perry or Annabelle or Victoria or Alexander. I don’t want to hear any more about weddings or royalty. I need a few minutes reprieve. If that’s okay?”
“Of course, it is Miss Codswild.”
“Thanks, Gid.” I leaned up to kiss him.
“The name’s Napoleon Cheshire,” he said, picking me up and carrying me to the bed.