A Love that Endures 3 Read online

There was a long silence on the other end of the line, until Mia quietly asked, “Who?”

  “A Frenchwoman who was in the papers all those years ago. During the scandal. Someone I think can make or break Cassie’s case.”

  “Do you have a name, Princess?” Mia pressed.

  Katy inhaled. Even saying that name brought up the old sickness and sadness that she had once known so well.

  But they were beyond that now. Katy trusted David. And she knew that this was the best way to begin exonerating him.

  So they could live their lives together . . . safely.

  Katy breathed out and answered, slightly pleased at how even her voice came out. “Yvette Pelletier. She’s David’s ex.”

  35

  Cassie

  Cassie had woken up in a great mood. And why wouldn’t she? She had a great family and rich and famous friends, and she was about to marry the love of her life.

  At least, that’s how it would look to everyone else. And that was really all that mattered.

  The truth was, Cassie was happy for totally different reasons. She was about to seal the deal with a handsome idiot whom she could easily manipulate. She’d finally get the hard-won title she’d worked so diligently for.

  And then she would, ever so briefly, be next in line for the throne. Which would be time enough, since the king and queen were set to have a little accident in the Alps shortly after the wedding.

  Poor dears.

  If they were lucky, they’d die in the Alps. But if her plan was somehow foiled—say by some pretty little bimbo and her orphan boyfriend—then Cassie would make sure the next plan wouldn’t be quite so quick or painless.

  See what happens when you interfere, Katy?

  The morning light streamed in through a stained-glass window in Cassie’s expensive wedding venue. She was alone in a dressing room, the way she wanted it. But she frowned as she sat in her vanity chair and turned back to her makeup, thinking of all the work that could be lost if her Alps plan failed.

  A high-paid makeup artist had already come and done up her face, but, as usual, it wasn’t up to Cassie’s high personal standards. Too heavy on the eyes. Too bright on the lips. No, she had to maintain her sweet, innocent image to the bystanders.

  That way, once she’d planned her next little accident for the king and queen—assuming that Katy and David were going to somehow mess this one up, despite being as incompetent as they were—then no one would even believe poor crownless Katy’s crazy tale about her plotting cousin.

  “Not Cassandra!” they’d exclaim, picturing the sweet, cherubic girl she tried so hard to become. “She couldn’t harm a fly!”

  Or, if they were speaking behind closed doors, perhaps they’d say something more like, “Cassandra? The princess’s cousin? She’s not intelligent or sophisticated enough to pull something like that off.”

  Cassie chuckled to herself.

  She was fine with that, too. In fact, the more they underestimated her, the better. She didn’t care if people didn’t think she was the smartest, or the prettiest, or the most desirable. All Cassie cared about was getting ahead in life. And so far, she was doing pretty well for herself.

  Cassie smudged the dark crease of her eyeshadow out, hoping to make it a bit more muted and demure. Then she set to work on blotting some of the lipstick from her mouth. She was supposed to be doing this in the company of her large and ridiculously dressed bridal party, but, all things considered, she’d made up some lie about feeling nervous and introspective so she could do the majority of the pre-wedding rituals by herself.

  She couldn’t bear the thought of pretending to like so many chittering imbeciles when she was already overwrought from planning such an extravagant party.

  And it truly was extravagant. As a token of her gratitude to them, she felt compelled to do that for the king and queen.

  Seeing as how it’d be their last soiree.

  Cassie chuckled to herself. King Frederick and Queen Margery of Lorria. Such stately figures. Such noble rulers! So traditional, so full of love for their country and their wayward (as they and the press liked to call her) daughter.

  Yet they were too stupid to see that she’d been playing them the whole time. When they’d asked her to keep Katy away from “unwanted” suitors in America, she’d happily obliged. When they’d offered her money or castles or anything she wanted as long as Katy were to become engaged to a suitable man, Cassie had generously turned down their offers in exchange for a pittance.

  A title.

  Even now, the king and queen didn’t know that Cassie had been working behind the scenes. They didn’t know that she was the one who had made sure Katy’s reputation was less-than-solid for the eventual usurpation—all by releasing some easily misunderstood photographs. They didn’t know that David, the man they blamed for leading their daughter astray, was actually a totally innocent man who had been framed and tried falsely. That information surely would only have bothered them.

  And now, they didn’t know that their bestowal of this title on sweet, loyal-but-a-little-slow Cassandra would be their undoing. No matter how long it took.

  Cassie had all the time she needed now. Because after her wedding, the obvious next target was David. Once he was out of the way, she could count on her dear cousin Katy to remain single forever—or at least long enough to keep her out of the succession for good.

  * * *

  The violinists played a traditional Lorrellian song that Cassie had always hated. But it was standard wedding fare.

  Like everything else in the stately London venue. Pink and white roses. Sashes and bows draped over the pews. Dripping, romantic candelabras. Long lines of wedding party on either side of the altar. A litany of well-dressed and distinguished guests. A few tuxedoed servants standing around to help point the way for seating or to assist the elderly.

  And she had quite the view of it all, as she walked down the long, petal-strewn aisle toward her handsome idiot. She’d kept it very traditional. After all, that’s what her people would want once she was queen.

  Even if she found most of it horribly dull.

  But, as Cassie clutched her father’s arm for the first time in years—her parents had finally managed to catch a flight in just the night before—she mused with a small smile that tradition wasn’t so bad.

  After all, it was tradition that required dour-looking Katy, as the maid of honor, to stand right beside Cassie for the whole ceremony. Cassie smiled sweetly as she walked past pew after pew of dignified guests standing at rapt attention.

  All for you, Katy! All so I could wipe that pompous little smile off your pretty face. You should be honored.

  Sweeping her eyes over the scene, checking that the plan was set in motion and the major players were there, Cassie of course noticed Boris next. He was as easy on the eyes as usual, though Cassie felt nothing for him. She wasn’t even sure she was truly capable of love anymore. But she was certainly capable of lust, and she had big plans for Boris once the festivities at the grand reception hall were complete.

  What better way to celebrate a brilliant plan almost completed?

  But the next person that Cassie focused on in her sweep of the room made her feel a bit uneasy. The officiant . . .

  Cassie knew from her thorough review of the event staffing that the man who was performing their ceremony was someone she hadn’t met before. But this man looked familiar to her, like maybe she had known him some years ago.

  But that was ridiculous. She would never let unvetted personnel into her own wedding—that was such an amateur mistake! He probably just had one of those faces.

  Cassie made it to the altar just as the music stopped, leaving the cavernous hall to echo with the sound of her heels on the aisle. All of the guests continued standing, looking at the happy couple and their large wedding party, smiling or looking dignified or bored, until Boris reached out to take Cassie’s hands in his and the officiant spoke again.

  “Welcome,” he began, in a
voice that only increased the strangely familiar impression Cassie was getting. “Please be seated.”

  There was a small cacophony as hundreds of guests sat on creaky wooden pews all at once.

  “We’re here to celebrate a coming-together,” the officiant droned on. If Cassie hadn’t still been trying to figure out how she knew this man somehow, she would’ve been zoning out by now.

  Instead, she was feeling weirdly anxious.

  “We’re here as friends, family, and loved ones of two very unique individuals. But more importantly, we’re here as witnesses to their eternal pairing.”

  Cassie smiled at Boris, her most simpering, in-love baby face, and watched his dull eyebrow-raise and halfhearted smile in return, then let her eyes wander out to the wedding party.

  The usual attendees were present: prime ministers, dukes, duchesses, princes, princesses, presidents. There were oil barons, suspected arms dealers, CEOs . . .

  And, Cassie noticed with surprise, an older woman in the front row who also looked terribly familiar. As if she’d had some overwhelmingly negative experience with the woman long ago.

  But who was she? Was Cassie just feeling jittery? She turned back to Boris and shook her head almost imperceptibly, trying to get out of her own mind while keeping that excited, about-to-be-wed look firmly on her face.

  You’re just being paranoid. You planned this perfectly! Enjoy your last outwardly happy public appearance, before you have to pretend to cry at a royal funeral.

  Beside her, Katy shifted her weight and cleared her throat. Cassie smiled again, this one much easier to summon, as she remembered how uncomfortable and unhappy her cousin probably felt.

  That always made her feel a little better.

  Cassie squeezed her beau’s hands and faked an adoring expression.

  Now let’s hurry up and get through this so I can set in on the champagne.

  “And there may never have been a more perfect pairing,” the officiant went on, “than that of a slavering worm and a greedy toad.”

  What?

  Cassie whirled to face the officiant, her mouth agape, unable to believe what she’d just heard. Behind her, a tittering of confused speech and a rush of gasps echoed through the venue. Boris withdrew his hands from hers and stared with bull-like shock and anger at the officiant.

  But the man was just smiling, staring directly at Cassie . . . as though willing her to remember.

  “Excuse me?” Cassie managed, through her shock. Her voice was weak at first, since she hadn’t been expecting the brazen insult. Had she heard him correctly?

  But as she stared up at him, she suddenly recognized exactly who he was.

  In her mind’s eye, Cassie was transported back to Lorria. Ten years ago. Back to the pantry of the summer home, where she had been canoodling with one of the handsome young dishwashers. A man—the kitchen’s sous chef, if she recalled—had walked in and spotted them.

  Maybe that wouldn’t have been too much of a scandal, in and of itself. But Cassie had an illustrious boyfriend at the time. And, even though of course he’d turned out to be just as useless as the rest of them, at the time she hadn’t been able to bear the threat of her little tryst endangering a possible engagement. So she’d needed to act swiftly to protect her reputation.

  She’d claimed that she’d seen the sous chef drop a rack of lamb on the ground and then put it back in the broiler. That way, if he spoke out, it’d look like a pure lie done in retaliation. He’d been canned, and the potentially scandalous affair had been silenced.

  And now he was standing in front of her again, ten years later, older, with a different haircut and more lines on his face, officiating her wedding.

  WHAT?

  “Man, what did you just say?” Boris finally spat out, turning on the officiant. Late to the punch, as usual.

  But the officiant didn’t answer, and Cassie, gathering her thoughts, didn’t have a chance to. The older woman in the front row cut them both off.

  “He called your fiancée a ‘toad,’ I believe,” she called out, her voice crisp and clear. “Which she is. Or at least she was six years ago, when she falsely accused me of smearing the royal family and got me fired, all because I overheard her complaining about the queen of Lorria.”

  Somewhere in the audience, Cassie heard an indignant protest from the queen herself.

  She felt the air rush out of her lungs. What was happening? What was this?

  “How dare you?” she began in a high-pitched voice—then stopped, gathering her wits. She hadn’t been expecting a wrinkle in her plan, not from a group who’d been so easy to manipulate before, and especially not so late in the game. She’d known that Katy might try something, but not this. Not something so public. Not something so drastic.

  Momentarily, Cassie was at a complete loss for words. And it was a terribly discomforting feeling.

  But already the gears in her brain had begun to whir.

  You’re the one in control. Don’t forget it.

  The crowd of guests was rising to its feet now, obviously bewildered and horrified by what was transpiring in front of them. And the murmurs were starting. It felt like a bad dream. So many eyes on her as she tried to figure out how to spin the narrative in her favor. How do I play this? Weak and innocent? Or do I counterattack?

  Cassie brought a hand to her mouth and put on her best innocently wounded expression, the one that made her look like a clueless cow that had been stung by a bee. Play it sweet and simple. Don’t overdo it.

  “I—I can’t believe this,” she managed, her voice purposefully strained. “On my wedding day! What a disgrace.”

  She heard a few murmurs of sympathy from the crowd, but they were immediately drowned out by more accusations.

  “She planted drugs on me! Because I heard her talking poorly of the princess of Lorria!” another person cried out.

  Cassie turned to see a young man on the side of the venue whom she definitely recognized, since she’d just had him fired the week before.

  “She accused me of theft,” another man said. “I was framed.” Cassie turned to see Edward, the king and queen’s old driver, standing in the middle of the crowd. The guests looked at each other and at the accusers in shock. But they wouldn’t—they couldn’t be allowed to believe them.

  Everybody likes an underdog, right? I’m the ultimate underdog. And this isn’t about to stop me.

  Cassie clutched her heart and pretended to be unable to breathe, hoping to give the impression that she was at risk of fainting.

  “Boris,” Cassie said weakly, fanning herself with the hand not clenched at her chest. Her fiancé rushed to her side and helped her remain upright. She had to keep looking like she was sweet and innocent and wronged.

  But who did this? Who set this up against me? Katy is too stupid for all of this planning. She must’ve had help.

  It seemed like many people had coordinated this attack against her. And if Cassie had been a stupider, weaker person, maybe it would’ve worked. But she’d been planning her ascent for too long and too hard to just roll over and admit defeat. They’d underestimated her, just like everyone else.

  She was going to fight back, just like she always had.

  “Security!” Boris yelled on Cassie’s behalf as she continued to flail pitifully, her eyes watering. But there was no answering shout. No one came to their aid. Instead the accusations continued from the crowd.

  “She threatened to sue me for slander if I didn’t write a positive story about her on my royal news website!” a woman yelled.

  “She had me arrested for refusing to publish unflattering photos of the princess in the press!” a man cried out.

  Cassie didn’t even turn to look at these new accusers. Instead, she pretended to gather her strength through her courage and conviction and faced out into the crowd.

  If security won’t deal with the riffraff, I’ll do it myself.

  “I don’t understand,” she said painfully, her voice stronger as she pret
ended to be hurt and embarrassed, letting them think that was why her color was high and her eyes were prickling, when they were truly shocked tears of anger. “Why would you all lie about me like this? All of these ex-employees . . . saying such nasty things . . . why would you do this? How could you have planned something like this for what should be the best day of my life!”

  Cassie shot a pained look at Katy then. Her cousin looked expressionless, but Cassie knew.

  And she was about to turn this plan against the ice princess.

  “Katy?” Cassie cried out, stumbling in her high heels, clutching her chest. She knew from far away she would look stricken, weak; but just for Katy, she let her eyes tell the story of the horrible vengeance she was going to wreak. “Was it you? Did you organize this? I knew you were jealous of my wedding, but I never realized that it had gotten this far.”

  “This has nothing to do with jealousy, Cassie.”

  Her cousin said the words steadily, looking unsurprised, almost unbothered by the accusations. Cassie hadn’t even expected this much from her, to be honest—she’d never seen her cousin do more than simply fold at the slightest little guilt trip. But this time, Katy’s gray eyes were cold as steel.

  The joke was on her. She had no idea what she was in for. Cassie was going to ruin her whole life for this.

  How stupid do you have to be to think you can outmaneuver me? I just needed a moment to gather my bearings. But you? You’re just a miserable, prissy bitch who could never dream of outwitting me.

  But to start, she knew she needed to look like she was too upset to stand and face the criticisms any longer. So she needed to get out of there.

  “I’m sorry . . . everyone . . .” Cassie removed her long veil, faking another sob. “I can’t stand in the same room as all these imposters lying to my face! I can’t bear to see my wedding ruined like this!” Then she hoisted the train of her dress, pushing past Boris and making her way down the stairs back to the aisle. She had to get far away, as soon as she could. She’d be able to think once she was alone. She’d be able to come up with a great story to sell against her cousin, painting herself as the victim. Maybe it’d make her the popular choice as the ruler, even! She could use all of this in her favor.