The Prince and the Wedding Planner

“Some?”

“She wants to throw away everything traditional. But she’s a princess. A princess must adhere to certain protocols.”

“And was that how it was for you?”

“I don’t know what you mean?” His mother glanced away.

This was his opportunity to ask her a question he’d wondered about for a long time. “Did you love my father? Or was it all about obligation?”

The queen, who always prided herself on maintaining her composure, looked at him slack-jawed. Was what he’d asked really that out of line? He supposed. Still, he needed to know the truth.

“This isn’t about me or your father.” The queen’s voice was strained. Her face had noticeably paled.

“It might not have been but it is now—”

“No. It’s not.” Her firm tone let him know that he’d most definitely crossed a line. “Mrs. Schmidt knows what’s best for your sister’s wedding. After all, she’s been planning royal weddings for nearly fifty years. She helped plan your father’s and mine.”

“And therein lies the problem, Mother. Giselle is young and times have changed. She doesn’t want the same things that a bride of fifty years ago would want.” When his mother went to argue, he held up a hand stopping her. “And, as the soon-to-be king, I believe the bride should have a say in her wedding.”

“But she’ll ruin everything.”

“I highly doubt it. I believe a compromise can be reached, marrying some of the old traditions with some of the current trends. And before you resist, remember your future relationship with your daughter is at stake.”

His mother huffed. “You’re exaggerating.”

“Am I?” He’d soothed his sister’s tears. He’d listened to her vent about moving away from Patazonia—away from his mother—and moving to her groom’s country. Leo knew it wasn’t all talk. There was some serious consideration going on.

His mother didn’t speak for a moment. At last he’d gotten through to her. “You really believe she’s that upset over this?”

“I do. And you need to be careful how you handle things going forward.”

“And you just want me to trust this stranger—this outsider?”

“I do. I think if you give Bianca a chance, you’ll like her. She’s a people person and well organized. Giselle has already met her and they’ve hit it off.” Now that he was finally getting through to his mother, he didn’t want to walk away without an understanding. “So will you give this a chance? Let Bianca try to bring peace to this family?”

His mother stirred her tea and then removed the silver spoon, setting it on the fine bone chine saucer. Even standing halfway across the room, he could see the wheels of her mind turning. This wasn’t going to be the easy agreement that he’d been hoping for.

Oh, well. So be it. He’d been negotiating with his mother since his father had died. He told himself it was just training for his future as king.

The queen took a sip of tea. Returning the cup to the saucer, she turned her full attention to him. “I’ll give your wedding planner a chance, if you’ll do something in return.”

And there she went with her negotiations, just as he’d predicted. At this point, he was willing to do most anything for some peace in his own home. And most of all, he wanted his younger sister to have the wedding of her dreams with the man she loved.

But he’d been down this road before. To have a party with his friends after graduation, it had cost him. He’d had to wear a suit and tie all summer as he’d visited country after country throughout Europe as part of a goodwill campaign. He couldn’t even imagine what this wedding would cost him.

He stifled the resigned sigh. “What do you want?”

A slight smile lifted the queen’s lips ever so briefly. “I want you to announce your engagement the day after your sister’s wedding.”

The day after? As in just a matter of a couple months? Seven weeks, give or take a day?

Leo swallowed hard. He struggled to maintain his composure. His gaze never wavered from his mother’s. He didn’t want her to detect any weakness. He knew his engagement must be announced soon if he were to be king by the New Year, but this felt so sudden—so final.

The queen held up a finger. “There’s one more caveat.”

Acid swirled in the pit of his stomach. “I’m listening.”

“If you don’t choose an appropriate wife by your sister’s reception, I’ll choose one for you.”