“I’ll be with you,” he told her reassuringly, and that heavy arm over her shoulders squeezed her again.
“Aren’t you supposed to go and hang out with the royals?” she asked him. “And I’m supposed to go hang out with the staff?”
“Mmm, something like that.” He leaned a bit closer, and she blinked up at him, startled at how attractive he was in the dim light of the car. Not that he wasn’t normally attractive, of course. But the way he normally looked at her—like she was a bug for squashing—was gone. In its place was a warm, appealing gaze. “Tell you what. I’ll steer you to the appropriate people so you don’t get lost. Is that a good compromise?”
It was. “I’d really appreciate it so much, Mr. Griffin.” Then she wouldn’t have to worry about smiling at a duke to be polite and having him look at her like she was garbage.
The limo stopped and the driver got out. Maylee’s stomach lurched again, and she gave Griffin a terrified look. He smiled down at her, encouraging. “It’s going to be fine. No one’s going to be paying a bit of attention to you, Maylee. They’re all here to see my cousin and the famous actor she’s marrying.”
She relaxed a little at that. He had a point.
The chauffeur opened the door to the limo, and a voice began to ring out over the crowd. “Griffin, Viscount Montagne Verdi.”
Heads turned just as Maylee slid out of the limo. Her eyes widened, and her stomach felt like it was trying to make an escape from her gut.
But Griffin was right there, shielding her from prying eyes as she got out of the car. She tugged at her low-cut bodice again to make sure everything was proper, touched her jewelry, and then smiled at Griffin when she noticed he was fighting a laugh at her actions. “Easy for you to laugh,” she muttered, but she put her hand in the crook of his arm that he offered.
And they went in.
***
Griffin wasn’t surprised to see that the party was wall-to-wall. Everyone who was slightly anyone in Bellissime and several surrounding countries had been invited, and no one wanted to miss out. As soon as they entered the room, the temperature went up by a few degrees simply from the crush of bodies, and he heard Maylee’s uncomfortable gasp as they made their way in.
His hand tightened on the fingers that lay on his sleeve. “Everything all right?”
“I didn’t expect to see so many people.”
He did. But that wouldn’t make her feel better, so he simply patted her hand. “I’ll help you find my mother’s equerry.”
“What’s an equerry again?” she asked as they descended the stairs into the ballroom.
“It’s a word that the royal family uses for personal assistant,” Griffin said in a dry voice. “But my mother would never be so common as to use an assistant.”
He heard Maylee stifle a giggle. If she could laugh, she’d be okay. He knew she was incredibly nervous—hell, this wasn’t fun for him, either—but he doubted he was feeling the same levels of panic that were written across her face.#p#分页标题#e#
A visiting dignitary nodded at Griffin as he passed by, followed by a Hollywood actress. The royal family was nowhere to be found. Damn it all, where were those cowards hiding? If he had to be out here, mingling, so did they.
With Maylee clinging to his side, it would be almost impossible to navigate the room quickly. Even now, people pressed and brushed up against them, casting him curious looks and Maylee scrutinizing ones. They knew who he was, and they were trying to figure out who she was. Nearby, a photographer was taking photos of people as they mingled. Princess Alex must have allowed one or two of the papers into the ball as a show of good faith, but Griffin was displeased to see it. He carefully steered Maylee in the other direction.
They made their way to the far side of the room and turned. Maylee gave him a nervous look and swallowed hard.
That made him concerned. “Are you all right?”
She grimaced. “I haven’t eaten anything. My stomach couldn’t handle it.”
Griffin frowned and waved over a waiter with an hors d’oeuvres tray. The man arrived with a flourish and presented his tray. “Lobster wrapped in cucumber and prosciutto?”
Maylee took one of the little confections and popped the entire thing into her mouth, chewing like a chipmunk. He knew it was nerves, but he had to smother a laugh. “It’s good,” she mumbled, putting a hand in front of her mouth to cover it. “Thank you.”
“Eat another,” Griffin insisted.
She plucked one off the tray, and the waiter nodded and moved on. Immediately, another waiter came up with a small crystal finger bowl on his tray, a linen napkin beside it. The queen was a stickler for finger bowls, so guests could wash their fingers after snacking. Griffin was used to seeing the little delicate bowls at parties, a slice of lemon floating atop the water to keep it fresh.