Crushing on Royalty (The Cuttings #1) [To Be Reconstructed]

Chapter 20 | Lovebirds

Now what could she mean by that?

You'll see.

Huh. Well, whatever it was, I knew that I should worry. I mean, this was Lady Cutting we're talking about here. Anything she has up her Italian-silk sleeves is a danger to the world.

Plus, couldn't she at least tell us earlier that she was already in England so that I could feign illness and be stuck in Michael's London flat? Was that so hard to accomplish, notifying us?

Apparently, the dowager wanted to "surprise" us. But really, me and her grandson were just annoyed at her for selecting a gown for me and setting a wedding date herself.

I mean, yeah, the gown was absolutely, breathtakingly beautiful, but couldn't I at least choose for myself?

"Sharon," the dowager suddenly barked, walking slightly around the dolled-up mannequin in velvet chiffon, looking at someone from behind it. This was the first time I noticed someone else in the room other than the Cuttings.

"Yes, madam?" the woman asked shakily.

Clearly, she was afraid the dowager would bark at her again. I couldn't blame her. Lady Cutting had that effect on every human being on the planet.

Except maybe Michael and myself.

"Are you done snipping at the loose threads at the hem?" she demanded, tapping her cane on the cream-coloured carpet.

"Almost...there. Finished."

The dowager sniffed. "You may take tea now, or rest. God knows you've been snipping at the other ones. Then kindly report back to Valentino that I am satisfied with his services."

The other ones? What was this all about?

Sharon, who had mousy features and plain brown hair, dipped her head and walked out of the room with a nod toward us, poor thing.

Lady C gazed at the gorgeous gown with such admiration, her icy blue eyes started twinkling then she sighed and turned back to look at us instead. For a moment, she looked beat and wary -- old. Maybe she just wanted us to be truly happy. Maybe she simply wanted to contribute to the wedding as much as she could.

"Stop staring at me like I'm some piece of bangers and mash, child!" she snapped at me. "Are you daft?"

Or maybe not.

"What are you up to, Grandmama?" Michael demanded, crossing his arms over his hard chest. "Because I'm positive that this isn't going to be good."

She raised an eyebrow. "Why, to think that my own grandson doubts me."

He snorted derisively.

"What is it?" I pressed, marching toward her, my shoes stomping the carpet with my long strides. "Come on, Margaret, spit it out!"

I heard Michael's snort of laughter and Emerson's violent coughs.

The dowager smirked. "Just a surprise that I think you might like."

I narrowed my eyes.

"Yeah right, Grandmama," Emerson piped in. When her grandmother looked at her with cold eyes, she pursed her lips but kept glaring.

Lady C nodded once, then walked toward the door. When none of us followed her behind, she halted, looking over her shoulder. "Well? Aren't you all coming?"

With loud grumbles, we followed her.

^^^^^

"Jesus!"