“What do you mean?”
“I think we should leave at dawn. Head to the palace a bit early.”
“Leave at dawn! Like a Western!”
“I would suggest leaving now, but driving over the mountain in the dark is a bad idea.”
“What would you tell your parents? I suppose our man of honor and best woman duties could kick in early.”
“I could tell them that, but that would require me to talk to them. I did more than enough of that this evening, and honestly, I’m inclined to just leave. Get up before the sun and run away.”
Dani smiled. “All right, Clint Eastwood. We leave at dawn.”
Chapter Sixteen
When they got to the palace, Max was surprised to find Sebastien already there.
“He arrived in the middle of the night, and he’s in the yellow bedroom,” said Marie, who greeted them outside. “You know, the one we all used to play Narnia in because the armoire was so huge? I don’t know if he’s there at the moment, but you could try.”
Sebastien had arrived in the middle of the night? Max had been in earnest about the drive over the mountains being ill-advised. And oddly, when he’d texted his brother and said he and Dani were leaving first thing this morning and asked him if he wanted to join them, Seb had merely said he would see them there. Max had assumed he’d meant later. He feared there had been an incident at the palace, something bad enough to drive Seb away in the wee hours. Still, though, why hadn’t he come to Max?
“Dani!”
It was Gabby, who appeared from around a corner and broke into a run at the sight of Dani. They embraced as Leo approached at a more sedate pace.
Gabby was talking a mile a minute next to the now-embracing Leo and Dani. “God, I’m glad you’re here,” Leo said. He kept hugging her, like he couldn’t get enough of her. Max perfectly understood.
“Come see the ballroom!” Gabby said, pulling on Dani’s arm. “They’re already starting to decorate it for the reception, and it’s so pretty! Or, oh! Maybe we should go down to the village. You haven’t been here in the cold weather. The tree is up, they’ve flooded the square for skating, and—”
“Why don’t we show Dani to her room, and then we can make a plan?” Leo said to Gabby.
“Good morning.” Mr. Benz, the king’s equerry and all-around palace fixer, appeared, and Max stifled a groan. Whatever plans any of them had—ballroom inspections or stealing Dani away and heading down to the village—would now go up in smoke. “Dr. Martinez, welcome back to the palace. We met last summer. I am Matteo Benz.”
“Yes, of course. It’s nice to see you again.”
“Lord Laudon.” Mr. Benz nodded at Max.
“Mr. Benz.” Max nodded back. He could feel Dani’s attention. She was no doubt internally rolling her eyes over the formal title. That was Benz for you. He was a stickler for protocol and was probably the only person currently resident in the palace who would use Max’s title. And since he was also the only person resident in the palace who could make embarrassing photos disappear like magic, he had Max’s respect.
“I’m glad you arrived a little earlier than planned,” Mr. Benz said to Dani. “We have much to do.”
As if he had invisibly summoned her—for all Max knew, he had—a woman arrived from around a corner. “This is Verene, the princess’s dresser. I believe the two of you have been corresponding about your dress?”
“Oh. Yes.”
“Daniela!” Verene rushed forward and took both of Dani’s hands. “You are even more lovely in person.”
“Verene tells me she needs you for an urgent fitting,” Mr. Benz said. “It’s my hope that after that, you and I could discuss the protocol associated with the wedding.”
“But then I get her!” Gabby said to Mr. Benz. “I haven’t seen her for months!”
“Well,” said Mr. Benz, with a twinkle in his eye that only Gabby seemed to be able to inspire, “I have taken the liberty of having some lunch delivered to the wardrobe room, and I thought you might show Dr. Martinez your dress, too, Miss Ricci, if that suits.”
“Yes!” Gabby said.
“And when do I ‘get her,’ Mr. Benz?” Leo asked with a wink at Dani. “She is, after all, here to be my wedding attendant.”
Mr. Benz sniffed, but there wasn’t any real rancor in it. The stuffy Mr. Benz and the freewheeling Leo had come to a détente last year, and it seemed now that they were genuinely friendly. “You, Mr. Ricci,” said Mr. Benz, doing a poor job stifling a smile, “will have to fend for yourself. I have a royal wedding to put on. That it is yours is immaterial.”
Dani met Max’s gaze as she let herself be swept away. He wondered if she was thinking what he was. No more late-night tête-à-têtes, no more ridiculous 1980s choreography.
It was just as well. He had to nip this infatuation in the bud. Dani wasn’t looking for a relationship. And even if she was, he had seen that list. Things I Will Never Again Do for a Man. While he was fairly confident he could pass muster on a few of the items—she would never have to pretend to like something she didn’t around him, and he flattered himself that in the extremely hypothetical situation in which orgasms were relevant, they would be real—most of her list items ruled Max out entirely.
And it wasn’t as if her list was the only thing keeping them apart. She didn’t think of him that way. He didn’t think of her that way. Mostly. Or at least he hadn’t until . . . Well, damn it. He didn’t even know when he’d started thinking of her that way. When Lavinia had prodded him on the matter? Perhaps it dated from when Dani had held his hand and listened to his fears in the sauna. Or even all the way back to when they’d made snow angels in Central Park.
“I believe you will find your brother in his room, Lord Laudon,” Mr. Benz said, rousing Max from his thoughts, “if you would like to say hello.”
After making plans to meet up with Leo and Marie later, Max went in search of his brother. As he climbed the stairs to the third floor, a rogue thought popped into his head. Was Mr. Benz Sebastien’s boyfriend? Was that why he knew where Seb was right now, or was that merely more of Benz’s usual omniscience? Seb had said Max didn’t know but “knew of” the person in question.
Is Mr. Benz why Sebastien had arrived early?
Mr. Benz came from a noble but impoverished family. Ironically, his “bloodlines,” as Mother would call them, were impeccable. Which made Max wonder if Mother and Father would approve of the match—if they could be made to approve of Sebastien’s homosexuality to begin with.
Max couldn’t really see Seb with the equerry. Seb was introverted and sensitive, but he wasn’t humorless like Benz. Perhaps Mr. Benz had a hidden wild side. Max thought about Lavinia’s proposal from last night. Sometimes, people surprised you.
Then he thought about the fact that he, the Depraved Duke, had a crush. Sometimes you surprised yourself.
Reaching the Yellow Room, Max rapped on the door and called out as he pushed it open. “Seb! You sly bastard! I think I’ve figured out your—”