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“Why did you take it out of the display, Mother?” Oliver asked.
“I was going to surprise Princess Veronica and offer her the privilege of wearing my dress for your wedding,” Queen Annabelle said. “I just had it cleaned, and it was lying on my bed.” She glared at me. “You ruined it! And what is a dog doing in my palace?!”
I swallowed hard, not liking the feeling in my gut.
This would not end well.
Chapter Ten
PRINCE OLIVER
I had to admit I didn’t see that coming.
Grace was on her hands and knees, wrestling with a very cute, but stubborn dog. Its jaws were clenched tightly around the bottom of my mother’s precious wedding dress, refusing to let go despite Grace’s best efforts, along with the efforts of two of our employees. The poor girl looked both embarrassed and frantic, her hair sticking to her forehead with perspiration, while the dog was having the time of his life.
Mother stood in the doorway, her eyes close to bulging from their sockets, lips pressed so tight they disappeared completely.
Henri hovered behind her.
“Miss Fullerton!” Mother said, her usually regal voice raised several octaves higher. “This is unacceptable!”
“I apologize, Your Majesty.” Grace held up the end of the dress, finally free from the dog’s teeth. “But I have great news!”
Mother’s jaws were now clicking back and forth, to the left and to the right. “There is no such thing as good news in this situation. You’ve ruined my wedding dress.”
“I understand why you would be upset, and once again, I apologize, but the dress is fine! It just needs a little repair, and a good cleaning from the dog saliva, and it will be as good as new. I promise. Do you want to see?”
“No!” Mother said. “That dog is a savage!”
Grace stood and set the dress down on the bed. “This is completely normal behavior. Puppies are born with an instinct to suckle at their mother’s teats, and when the mother is no longer around, they look for blankets or something else as a substitution.”
Mother tapped her foot on the floor. “Do I look like I’m in the mood to learn the intricacies of canine rearing? I asked you why there is a dog in the royal palace. Are you planning on answering the question?”
I was curious as well.
“Actually, Your Majesty,” Grace replied, “he was meant to be a gift. For you.”
“For me?” Mother’s eyebrows shot up in disbelief.
Grace nodded. “Yes—I adopted him for you.”
“Whatever possessed you to think I would want a dog?” Mother asked.
“I heard about Ruby,” Grace said. “And I thought you might like, well, this little guy.” She gestured to the now-released dog, who wagged his little tail happily, oblivious to the tension in the room. “I had the best of intentions. I apologize if I’ve overstepped.”
“Overstepped?” Mother said. “I’d say you vaulted over the line.”
The dog turned toward us—we could finally see his face.
“He is quite adorable.” I crouched down to get a better look at the dog. “And the spitting image of Ruby, don't you think? Is he a Pembroke Welsh Corgi?”
Grace nodded. “He is. That’s why I knew it was meant to be. He was the last dog available for adoption at the pet store. I had nothing but positive motives, I swear.”
I could detect a softening in Mother’s demeanor. Especially when the puppy wriggled free of Grace’s arms and trotted over to sit happily at Mother’s feet. His tail swept back and forth across the floor.
It was hard not to smile at the sight, despite the dress fiasco.
Even Mother seemed taken aback by the dog’s boldness, but it would take a lot more than that to get her to come around.
