'Excuse me. May I cut in?' I ask, not exactly interrupting the noble lady, but not not interrupting her.

'If you must,' she says after a slight pause, looking between me and the prince.

'I'm afraid I must,' I smile, trying to look apologetic. She walks away with a small nod to Liam, who turns to me.

'You handled that very well,' he says, that small smile back on his face.

'I try,' I reply, shrugging slightly.

'Honestly, you seem as comfortable here as you did back in New York,' he tells me, and I raise my eyebrows, but before I can reply, the string quartet begins playing a slow tune.

'Shall we dance?' he asks me, holding out a hand.

'I'm not sure I know the steps,' I say apologetically, taking his hand in mine.

'Just follow my lead,' he says, smoothly pulling me on the dance floor. I am acutely aware that the noise level in the room has dropped dramatically, and all eyes seem to be on us. I'm relieved when I see a few other couples taking to the floor as well.

Liam pulls me against him, and I place my left hand on his shoulder as he rests his right gently on my waist, before beginning to move. It's easy to follow him, and the steps are relatively simple, so after a minute or two I'm pretty much holding my own.

'You're an amazing dancer,' I tell him, beginning to enjoy going through the motions.

'My parents would be thrilled to hear that all those years of dance lessons paid off,' he says, and I laugh. 'I'm very glad that I got a moment alone with you, Riley.'

'Well... relatively alone. There's only about a hundred people watching us right now,' I say, peeking over his shoulder at the crowd which has moved to circle the dancefloor. There are enough other couples dancing that we're not the main event now though, which I'm grateful for.

'Unfortunately it's about as much privacy as we might expect... though I do have a trick up my sleeve,' he murmurs, and suddenly he's spinning me around and off of the dancefloor completely.

'Wha-'

'Follow me,' he tells me, and pulls me along by the hand, unseen, out of a side door to the ballroom. I'm surprised when we emerge onto a high balcony, considering that we'd gone down stairs to get into the ballroom. The evening air is cool, and there's a pleasant breeze.

'We can get a little more privacy out here, at least,' Liam says, looking around. No one seems to have noticed our sneaky exit, though I assume that we won't have long alone together.

'Nice moves,' I smile, and he gives a small bow.

'I try. Now, I want to know how you are. I trust you're being well taken care of here?'

'Maxwell's been very sweet so far. He flew me out here and set me up with a room and everything. I haven't met his brother yet, though,' I tell him.

'Ah, the Duke. He's... different from Maxwell. More serious. But their house has an excellent reputation, mostly due to him.'

'I see...'

'What about Cordonia? What do you think of my home so far?' he asks, and I smile, happy to be able to answer truthfully.

'I love it,' I tell him.

'Really?' he asks, his face lighting up.

'How could I not? It's beautiful. I love the architecture, the elegant events, and the music. It's like something straight out of a fairy tale,' I say, repeating my words from the plane and thinking of Drake.

'I'd hoped that you would love it here as much as I do. It's... well, it'd be rather unfortunate for a queen to dislike her kingdom,' he says, looking away from me out over the balcony to the view beyond. It's dark, but I can hear the ocean in the distance.

'Oh, right. I guess that's a pretty important quality in a queen-to-be,' I nod.

'Especially given Cordonia's recent history,' Liam agrees. I turn to him.

'What do you mean?'

'These last few decades have been somewhat rocky for us... the first queen abandoned my father and my older half-brother. I'm not clear on the exact details, but...'

''Do you at least know why she left?'

'She couldn't handle the pressures of courtly life. She came from a less noble family, so she hadn't been at court long before the marriage, and my own mother passed away when I was still a child,' he tells me, looking down.

'I'm so sorry,' I frown.

'Yes, well, it was a long time ago,' he says.

'And so, the current queen?'

'She may not be my mother, but she's a wonderful woman who's done her best to lead Cordonia alongside my father. Instability in the monarchy is always dangerous for a small kingdom like ours. Weakened currency, a rise in crime, a drop in tourism... all because of the lives of the rulers.'

'That's why you care so much about finding the right queen,' I say.

'Exactly. I can't just follow my heart, as much as I might want to. There's too many other people I need to think about. Sorry. I didn't mean to burden you with this,' he says, shaking his head as he looks back to me.

'Tell me a good memory you have about the palace,' I say, leaning back against the balcony ledge and crossing my arms.

'As the lady wishes,' he smiles. 'One summer when I was only eight, my father decided to throw me into the rigours of governing. He made me sit through hours of meetings for three weeks straight. Finally, I couldn't take another minute; I decided to liberate myself.'

'Drake and I stole a monster supply of chocolate from the kitchens, and we hid out in the gardens. We spent the evening making up games to play in the garden maze; our best one was maze-tag. You can see the entrance to the maze over there, by the hedges.'

'Maze-tag? Let me guess. You played tag in the maze?'

'Not our most cleverly named game, but whoever was 'it' had to run after the other person in the maze, and you lost if you were 'it' by the time you got to the centre. We played that for hours, until we nearly collapsed from exhaustion. But we were too stubborn to go back. We used the last of our strength to climb up the tree in the centre of the hedge maze and vowed to live out there,' he tells me, before looking at me suspiciously. 'I hope this doesn't destroy your image of me as a proper prince.'

'What surprises me most is that Drake knows how to have fun,' I say, smiling.

'Drake's the best. I know he can be a little... rough around the edges, but you'll never find a more loyal friend,' Liam says earnestly.

'Well, I want to meet the Liam who plays hooky and sleeps in trees.'

'I miss those carefree summers. But I'm afraid those days are behind me. And we should get back inside before people notice I'm missing,' he says, sounding resigned. I nod.

'Ready?'

He dances me back inside, and we slip our way back on to the dancefloor to only a few raised eyebrows.

'So, is this how it's going to be for you over the next few weeks? Stealing moments here and there with noble ladies?' I ask him, and he sighs.

'As I said, things are different here. I should spend time with the other ladies to be fair to them,' he tells me, and I realise he might have interpreted my question as jealousy. 'But believe me when I say I wish this night didn't have to end. Tomorrow will be very busy, but I should be able to see you for a little bit,' he says, and I smile at him.

'I look forward to it.'

The song ends, and we step apart from one another.

'Until then,' Liam says, bowing.

The night winds down pretty quickly after that, and an hour later I'm back in my room, massaging my feet when there's a knock on my door. I open it to see Maxwell, and standing next to him is a man who looks as though he's just sucked on a lemon.

'Hey, Maxwell,' I say, glancing at the stranger.

'I know it's late, but there's someone you should meet. Bertrand, this is Riley,' Maxwell says, looking very pleased with himself. Bertrand looks me up and down, and suddenly I wish I hadn't taken my shoes off.

'This is the girl you've chosen to represent our house?'

My heart sinks, but I don't let it show on my face.

'Yep! Nailed it, right?' Maxwell grins.

'Nice to meet you, Bertrand,' I offer, trying to work out whether I should hold my hand out or not.

'The proper way to address a Duke is Your Grace,' he says haughtily, looking at me in disapproval. We're about the same height, and yet I feel as though he's looking down on me.

'Oh. Sorry. Your Grace,' I apologise, not sounding very apologetic at all.

'Hm. At least it looks like you can be trained,' he sniffs, and I frown.

'I'm not your pet,' I say. Maxwell looks torn.

'He didn't mean it like that,' he says, looking at me almost beseechingly.

'Maxwell, a word with you in private?' Bertrand asks pointedly. They both look at me, and I shut the door wordlessly, before immediately pressing my ear up against it.

'That's the girl you picked to represent our family?' I hear Bertrand say. Nice.

'Yeah, that's Riley. Liam really hit it off with her when they met at the restaurant for the bachelor party. She was our waitress.'

'A waitress. You've brought a waitress? I knew I shouldn't have trusted you! We could've had our pick of any unsponsored duchess or countess in half of Europe!' Bertrand exclaims, not even trying to keep his voice down.

'Well, sure, but like I said, she and Liam have a lot of, y'know, chemistry. I think he really likes her. I know you probably don't care, but she could make him really happy. Like, I've never seen him so happy. Shouldn't Liam have a shot at love like that, even if he is the Prince?'

Maxwell goes up in my estimations with every word that he speaks.

'Spare me your sentimentality. You'd better hope that this waitress doesn't ruin everything.'

And Bertrand goes down.

Seconds later, the door is opening, and I jump backwards. Bertrand practically glares at me. 'You were listening to everything, weren't you?' he scowls.

'Yeah, and I don't love what I heard,' I say defiantly, crossing my arms.

'Perfect. A waitress with no manners,' he mutters, looking upwards in despair.

'Look, you're the ones who invited me here. If you're so unhappy with me, just get another girl,' I snap, wishing I'd kept my mouth shut the minute I say it. Maxwell looks distraught.

'No! You can't do that! We already said you were our pick! If you go, we've got no one.'

'Maxwell is, unfortunately, correct. We're stuck with you. Perhaps he didn't fully explain this to you, but if our house puts forth the Prince's choice, we'll win fame and recognition,' Bertrand tells me.

'Something we could really use right now, cus we're kinda broke,' Maxwell cuts in.

'Maxwell. You overstep,' Bertrand says, his voice suddenly going dangerously quiet.

'Sorry,' Maxwell mutters.

'There's no shame in being broke. I've been broke plenty of times,' I offer.

'Thanks, Riley,' Maxwell says.

'It's entirely different for us,' Bertrand sighs.

'Do you get money if I marry Liam?' I ask, deciding to be forthright.

'Not... directly. But we can leverage the prestige to great effect. It would be best to get that leverage before others find out about our situation. In the circles we run in, if word got out of our financial ruin, there would be a scandal,' Bertrand tells me, motioning for Maxwell to shut the door.

'But our name is still worth something in Cordonia! At the very least, we can introduce you to the right people, get you invitations to the right events. I only regret that we can't offer you more,' Maxwell says, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him.

'Speaking of which, have you prepared for tomorrow's event?' Bertrand asks me. I blink.

'Event?'

'That's the Derby,' Maxwell explains.

'You know what a Derby is, of course,' Bertrand says, cocking an eyebrow.

'Fancy horse race?' I ask.

'Excellent. It'll be your first opportunity to make an impression on the press. They'll be covering the event.'

'They don't get a lot of opportunities to see the royals, so they'll jump at this chance,' Maxwell tells me, beginning to grow animated again.

'Oh. I assume they're important then,' I say.

'Yes. Very. Everyone in Cordonia will be influenced by what they write about you,' Bertrand tells me.

'We're a monarchy, but we serve the people. You'll need their approval if you're going to become queen,' Maxwell adds.

'Speaking of which, you should consider your attire for tomorrow. The Queen will be present at the Derby, and the right outfit will go a long way to earning her favour. I recommend a modern look,' Bertrand says.

'I'll keep that in mind,' I nod.

'I've made an appointment for you in the morning at the boutique already,' Maxwell tells me.

'We'll speak more tomorrow right before we head out for a Derby,' Bertrand says, turning away and opening the door to leave the room.

'Okay. What time?' I ask.

'Oh, I should think about eight am.'

I baulk.

'Sounds good,' I smile, hoping they can't see how put out I am.

'Yes, quite,' Bertrand says, looking me over once more before walking off.

Maxwell smiles at me.

'I thought that went quite well.'

I pull a face.

'Aw, he'll warm to you, how could he not? And you'll get used to him eventually. He's a good person to have on your side in this sort of place,' Maxwell tells me. I nod.

'I believe you.'

'Okay, I'll leave you to get some beauty sleep. See you in the morning!'

I shut the door behind him and then turn to face the empty room.

'Beauty sleep,' I mutter, before heading to the en-suite to remove my makeup.

The next morning, after a fairly good night's sleep, I wake up and have to get up and busy myself immediately before I can stop and think about what the hell it is that I'm doing here. Vying for the hand in marriage of a man I've only known for two seconds.

Surely he knows that I can't really marry him. He wouldn't pick me anyway, not over all of these other queens-in-the-making which surround him. No, I have nothing to worry about, apart from Bertrand.

I feel bad for the Beaumont brothers, but I'm also pretty sure that their definition of 'broke' is probably my definition of 'set for life.'

I shower and get dressed before making my way back down to the boutique (and only getting lost twice on the way), where I find myself face to face with Olivia, all dressed up in her finest racing attire, complete with a large hat. I'm pleased to note that she looks a bit ridiculous.

Her eyebrows shoot up as she sees me.

'Oh, I'm surprised to see you here. I thought you'd have gone home by now. Surely you've realised that you don't have a chance of winning.'

'Olivia, surely you've realised there's a bird nesting in your hair,' I say. She scoffs, raising a hand to pat at her hair.

'That just shows how ignorant you really are. The Derby is basically a fashion show. If you're wearing anything less than runway couture, the press is going to walk right past you,' she snickers.

'I'm sure I'll manage,' I say, moving past her.

'I can't wait to see what you'll wear. Please, dazzle me,' she calls after me, and I roll my eyes.