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“I doubt the chief of police is going to interrogate or frisk you,” a brunette named Hazel teased her, “but you keep working your magic flirtations on him. He’ll cave to you. They always do, my gorgeous friend.”
Livvy’s shoulders rounded. She could’ve guessed men always caved to Shelby. How could anyone blame them? She wanted to beg the woman to have mercy on her. Jensen might just be a challenge and a vacation fling for Shelby, but he was Livvy’s dream man.
“I, for one, am going after the crown prince,” a beautiful blonde named Jaylene declared.
“Not a bad option either,” a brunette agreed. “Though I don’t really like my men all scarred up. Could you beg him to always keep his right side turned to you?”
They all laughed at that. Except for Livvy and Shelby.
“It’s disappointing, to be sure. He was so tantalizingly hot before the bombing,” Jaylene agreed.
Livvy’s stomach twisted. Prince Tristan had been scarred by a senseless bombing. He was a selfless and witty man, still incredibly handsome despite the scarring. He did not deserve to be disparaged.
“Still, he’s the last unclaimed prince, and to be queen someday…” Jaylene licked her lips and tossed her long blonde hair. “And if the ‘Adorkable Boston Beauty’ can land a handsome, younger prince, I’m sure I can easily get the deformed Crown Prince to fall for me. I’ll force him to get plastic surgery so he’s as pretty as me.”
Several of the women laughed but a few others, including Shelby, seemed uncomfortable with Jaylene taking shots at not only the crown prince but their friend Ellery.
“He is not deformed. He’s an impressive and kind prince,” Livvy snapped, unable to remain quiet any longer.
Shelby gave her an approving glance.
“You just don’t want another American stealing another one of your hot princes,” Jaylene shot back at her.
The other women’s eyes widened. Jaylene had put on a nice face at first, but she was definitely the snarky one of the bunch. She’d made fun of Ellery, who was supposedly her friend, and the crown prince in the same sentence.
“That’s far from true,” Livvy countered. “Princess Ellery, Princess Aliya, Princess Macey, and Princess Hattie are all very welcome. They are as kind and gracious as they are beautiful and accomplished, they love their husbands, and they will be a great blessing to our country. What we Augustinians don’t need is a snarky, underhanded, self-serving American deceiving one of our ‘hot princes’ and only being interested in his title, not in what type of man he is. A great man, my future king, who has my allegiance and deserves your respect.”
The table went quiet. Some women exchanged glances while others looked at her in shock, some in approval.
These women were all ultra-fit athletes. They could beat her up if they ganged up on her, but she’d put her self-defense skills against most people’s ability to hurt her. That thought gave her even more confidence. She was out in public, brave and standing up for Prince Tristan. It was as if she’d just finished a flawless performance of Handel’s Messiah. She could do this.
“Well spoken.” Shelby nodded to her.
“Well, I never.” Jaylene glowered and folded her arms across her chest. Amazingly, she didn’t counter but looked down at her untouched dessert.
A clinking of silver on crystal drew everyone’s attention to the head table. Livvy sat with her hands folded in her lap, her back straight, her head held high, and her cheeks only a little warm as she listened to the speeches and toasts. She could feel some animosity from the women she’d offended at this table. She was out of practice in social situations, this being her first experience in years, but she felt justified sticking up for Prince Tristan and all the royals. She was proud of her country and the royal family. They were independently wealthy, lived in this insanely gorgeous castle, and were, well, royal without putting on airs. The August family was classy and put the people of Augustine first. She’d especially admired Queen Anne, who had drowned horrifically in the lake last January.
As soon as the toasts, kissing, and cheering were done and the dancing announced, she quietly excused herself and pushed away from the table. The women were quietly talking amongst themselves.
“Thank you for sitting with us,” Shelby said graciously.
“Thank you.” She nodded to her one ally.
She glanced around, wondering if she should just disappear. She’d sort-of accomplished what she’d come to do—getting out into public and not being afraid, talking to Sophie, bravely standing up for Prince Tristan, and … okay, she hadn’t spoken to Jensen and that had been priority number one.
But all in all, she’d done pretty well. She couldn’t see Jensen anyway, and after getting to know Shelby a little, she wondered if the gorgeous redhead wasn’t like the American princesses—a breath of fresh air who would be a great addition to Augustine.
Disappointment filled her, thinking of Jensen with anyone but her. That was selfish. She needed to act and think better. She was ready to leave. It had been an enlightening and empowering evening, but it was time to go before she threw herself at Jensen and begged him to dance. She needed to get out of here. Holding her chin high, as if she were walking off the stage after a successful performance and an encore in the Philharmonie de Paris, she strolled through the tables. She’d been a lauded success once upon a time; she could exit a wedding without breaking down into tears at the missed opportunity to talk to Jensen.
Easing away from the wedding crowd as everyone lined up to watch the first dances, she doubted the shuttles would be taking people down to their cars right now. What kind of lousy wedding guest wanted to run away before the dancing even started? Her, unfortunately. It was all right. She’d done well, but she had reached her limit with that snarky blonde.
Livvy made it to the massive open castle gates and glanced around. Shuttles were lined up, but the drivers were nowhere to be seen. Shoot. She’d have to walk down the steep, narrow road. Normally she liked walking, as she rarely allowed herself the luxury unless her dad or brother went with her to scare away any man who wanted to whisper, “Treven’s coming,” but in spike heels it wouldn’t be enjoyable. At least the view was gorgeous.
Music sounded behind her as the scheduled wedding dances started. Soon everyone would be able to dance. Disappointment tasted bitter on her tongue. Should she go back? Ask Jensen to dance? Fight that kind and beautiful American redhead for him? If the woman was a ninja warrior, she was probably tough, but Livvy had been trained by ‘Cap’ and he was an incredible fighter. She worked on her fighting moves every day. She could win. Wouldn’t she be proud of herself then?
Livvy shook her head. Silly thoughts. She wouldn’t pick a fight with some woman, especially the one who’d been kind and agreed with her at the table. If Jensen wasn’t interested in Livvy, she’d have to deal with that. It seemed that was a high probability. Why had she tricked herself into believing he cared? The times he’d come to check on her, he’d been caring and had looked deeply at her as if interested. He was a classy, successful professional. He likely treated everyone that way.
“Livvy,” a male voice said from behind her.
