Page 77 of Scandal Queen

“Shall I take the ring off?” I asked trying to pull my hand free of his.

I might as well have said I’d launch it into the Thames. “Don’t even dare.”

“Okay.” I flashed him a smile. “Keep your pants on.”

“Not wearing any.”

My mouth fell open just as Oliver’s name was called along with my own. “Smile and look happy,” he whispered.

“I am happy.”

The green gaze that swept over my face read down deep into my soul.

Clusters of diplomats and officials hung in small groups. King Henry stood to one side of a large and blazing fireplace talking to the Russian president. Next to them was our small and weasel-like Prime Minister. I didn’t like the man. His party did nothing except to pinch on the people who already didn’t have enough.

My filed thought from months ago rostered itself to the front of my mind and I realised just who it was I could talk to about pollution in the city. I glanced to the Prime Minister’s left and noticed the Mayor of London bobbing her head along with the conversation.

Well this evening just got considerably better.

“Oh God. You are thinking something about tossers with too much money aren’t you?” Oliver leant into my side as we walked towards his mother to offer our respects.

“Not exactly.”

“Leia,” he warned. “This is the happiest night of my life, please don’t let it end up in a huge argument. We can fight any battle you want another day. I’d just like to take you home to bed later without being hauled over hot coals by Marcus Cartwright first.” His lips quirked. We’d just reached the Queen and he dropped his mother a deep bow as was the correct thing to do at a royal engagement. “Ma’am. I apologise for our tardiness.”

I could barely hear what he said. In my head I had visions of us going home through the grounds, getting to the cottage, his hands on my skin, his ring on my finger.

How long exactly would the dinner take?

I lowered a curtsey. “My apologies, Your Majesty, there was an issue with Daisy.” I lied to the Queen. That fast track to hell just got slightly quicker. I promised myself I’d make it up to Daisy tomorrow.

“She’s not unwell, is she? I can send the physician along in the morning if you’d like?”

“Oh, no. Thank you.”

Oliver had said the King and Queen didn’t know of the woman who’d stepped forward as Daisy’s grandmother. But I hadn’t been able to ask any more questions because Oliver had managed to distract me by asking a pretty big one of his own.

I flushed. He’d asked me to marry him. It had all been so quick, yet so utterly right. The fears I’d arrived at the palace with when we’d come back from Cornwall seemed far away now.

The Queen’s gaze dropped from my flushed face to my left hand. She must have her mother senses switched onto high.

“Oliver?” Her voice rose in pitch.

“Mother?” His smile grew while I held my breath. When she let out a sigh, her shoulders dropping, my own stomach plummeted.

Maybe I shouldn’t have forgotten those fears after all.

“Leia.” She reached forward and gently grasped my face in her hands and then leant forward to kiss me on the cheek. It felt like the whole room watched. “Welcome to the family, my dear girl.”

In years gone by, I would have bristled at being called a girl. I hadn’t felt like one since the day I’d stared at the pregnancy test with the blue cross and my childhood had evaporated from one breath to the next. In that moment though, she made me crave to be that again. For the glimmer of security she offered with her smile and the depth of warmth in her gaze. She made me crave it, because I knew she was giving it. Wholeheartedly and without restraint. This wasn’t the welcome I’d been given in October when the palace doors had opened as a sanctuary. This was a mother’s welcome and it made my heart squeeze.

My brain—because it bordered on unhinged—wondered if Charlotte ‘I’m such a whore’ Macclesfield had the same response from the Queen.

She laughed and tucked me into her arm, pulling me away from Oliver. “Come, let me introduce you to the President’s wife. Isabella should be around here somewhere too.” Ducking her head close to my ear she whispered, “I suggest spinning the bling around. Otherwise the story will break before you get a chance to tell people yourself.”

A clammy sweat broke out over my skin. How were people going to react when the heir to the throne announced his second wedding of the year? I had to shut the thought down. I couldn’t allow anything to ruin my evening. Our evening. I glanced at Oliver who’d fallen into an easy conversation with some bore in a suit. He made it look so easy. His lips quirked and I knew he knew I was watching.

Taking a cue from the Queen, I allowed myself to be slipped into a conversation with the Russian president’s wife, while I stood straight and tall in my black velvet evening dress, four diamonds pressing into my palm.