To Wed a Princess

Eloise prided herself in being meticulous. Her life was run on a very strict, mostly self imposed, time table which ran smoothly due to a mix of self motivation and her very able PA, Emma. She'd wake up relatively early in the morning – between 6am and 8am depending on how late she went to bed – change into some workout gear and run at least one mile (although she preferred three), either on a treadmill or outdoors depending on where she was. Sometimes this was paired with a bout of pilates or yoga afterwards, and then she would shower after eating whatever breakfast her nutrition plan dictated. After her shower she would get dressed, and the simplicity of this varied depending on what she was doing that day. If it would be a slow day, she would dress and then do her own hair and make-up, if not a team of stylists would bombard her until she was deemed presentable enough for whatever event she was about to endure.

The rest of the day would be filled with either planned events or simply whatever activities she wished to do, depending on where in the world she was, although she always tried to fit in at least two hours for her to play her instruments or read and unwind. When she was around family, her routine became far less strict. Jeans became more common if she wasn't going out, her meal plans were abandoned in favour of pizza and she found herself staying up late, laughing and goofing around well into the early hours of the morning with whatever sibling she was with at the time – although more often than not it was Harry recently, as William was settling into married life and fatherhood.

"Somebody's clearly very eager to get in touch with you," her brother commented from behind her as Eloise ignored her phone for the fifth time that day alone.

"It's Charlotte," she said simply "She's annoyed me."

"Poor girl," Harry muttered "Hell hath no fury like an Eloise scorned."

"Hilarious," she rolled her eyes and gestured to the paused film on screen "Are we going to watch this bloody film or not?"

"We will when you tell me what's got you in such a bad mood. I know Charlotte annoys you at times but you don't usually ignore her."

"Yes well this time she's annoyed me more than usual."

"Getting answers out of you is like pulling teeth," he groaned.

"She's determined to set me up with somebody."

"No, no, no," her brother shook his head with a frown as his 'protective brother' instincts seemed to kick in "I've taught you since you were twelve that boys are bad news."

She couldn't help but laugh at his teasing "Yes, and nine years later I still agree, don't worry."

"Good. So what's the problem?"

"The problem is that she won't listen," she sighed "No matter how many boys I scare off or how many times I tell her not to, she always finds a way to shove somebody in my direction and act as though I'm obligated to fall in love with them immediately. Just because she's happy in a relationship doesn't mean I would be. I'm not a bloody Disney character."

"Well maybe ignoring her isn't the best way to go, El...Maybe you should just talk to her about it and tell her this," he became fairly serious for once.

"I do! I've told her a hundred times and each time she laughs as if it's some big joke," she rolled her eyes "If ignoring her for a while is what it takes to make her take me seriously, so be it."

"I don't think that's the best way to go about it," he responded simply.

Eloise bit her lip in resignation and produced her iPhone from her pocket.

"She wants to have lunch in a couple of days," she murmured, scanning through her texts and marvelling at how easy her brother could get past her stubborn nature – it was a talent that both of her brothers had always seemed to have.

"Well go and talk to her about it then," he suggested simply, pressing play and allowing the film to put a stop to any further conversation.



Livid would not be the right word to describe Eloise's reaction as she carefully masked her emotions and ignored the stare of a certain Brian Haner who sat across the table from her. Her friend had certainly failed to mention that he would be there. With a lunch at Charlotte's being considerably less formal than a garden party, he wasn't in a suit and looked a hundred times more comfortable because of it. He wore a black shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, exposing even more tattoos, and the first few buttons were undone, exposing the letters REV on his chest. His hair was considerably more dishevelled too.

She wasn't his biggest fan, but she had to admit that Charlotte was right – he was very handsome, and even moreso now that he was dressed less formally. He seemed to emanate a natural confidence, and she suspected this would be even more the case if he had been dressed in a t-shirt and jeans. She briefly wondered why he insisted on dressing so formally. She didn't because she had an image that she insisted on maintaining (one that her entire family did, really), but he had no reason to. Did he really thinkg either her or Charlotte would be offended if he dressed comfortably? Or did Charlotte think it would make him more favourable in her eyes? Her favourite quote was an Oscar Wilde one – "One can never be overdresssed or overeducated." - but she didn't expect everyone around her to adhere to the same mindset.

Still, she couldn't understand what he wanted from her. The boys Charlotte usually pushed her way were from prominent English families, hoping to impress mummy and daddy by impressing a Princess and making a good match, but he didn't seem that way at all. She knew her family garnered some degree of interest in the USA, but he didn't seem like a fan. He wore a Rolex on his wrist – a real one – so she doubted he was short on money. Was it the publicity? She hadn't gleaned any information from him which would give her any idea of why he'd need any, and even then, the garden party would've been a perfect place to network if he wanted attention, and yet he spent most of his time there standing by the water, looking perfectly content in being alone. Was he in a band? He certainly fit the rockstar stereotype in both appearance and personality – he even played guitar. Was he hoping that in being seen with her she'd bring attention to whatever band he may be in?

"I don't think it's too early to open some champagne!" Charlotte giggled, eyeing them both smugly "I shall go and find some!"

Eloise nodded silently, fiddling with the pearls at her neck.

"How did you enjoy the ballet, Mr Haner?" she asked brightly, sipping at her water.

"I hated it, ma'am," he stated simply, watching her reaction carefully.

She quirked an eyebrow and the corners of her lips twitched upwards, betraying her surprise.

"Oh? I'm very sorry to hear that."

"I hate ballet in general," he said simply, leaning forwards in his chair "It bores me. Same goes for classical music, actually – unless it's merged with metal. I also can't stand Oscar Wilde."

She couldn't help but smile – it was no secret that Wilde was one of her favourite writers – but she said nothing and allowed him to continue.

"I got ten pages into Dorian Gray and gave up...Oh, and I hate the weather here...Ma'am."

Eloise was silent, allowing her face to betray nothing. She was impressed, but she couldn't decide if she was also insulted. After years and years of having people pretend to like the same things as her just to win her favour, it was certainly shocking to be told so bluntly that he despised quite a lot of the things that she loved...But was that a bad thing? The blonde decided that it wasn't. In fact, she found it refreshing and she had to admire his bravery in taking such a risk. He still watched her carefully whilst she continued to sip at her water and play with her necklace with her free hand. She drew out the silence for a little while longer, allowing his expression to slowly become less confident.

"It is rather dire, isn't it, Brian?" she spoke up finally, putting down her glass of water and placing her hands in her lap.

"It's nothing compared to California," he shrugged, the confidence returning to his face.

"I know," she nodded "Truth be told I don't usually spend much time here. I have penthouses scattered around the world that I flit between. So, you hate ballet...you hate classical music...and you hate Oscar Wilde – which I don't understand, but each to his own. What exactly do you like? Other than Marlboro cigarettes, alcohol and guitar."

He smirked and glanced down at his knuckle tattoos when she made her comment.

"Music and friends," he shrugged.

"And yet you've left them in favour of a country whose weather you hate."

"Who said I don't have friends here? Charlotte's offering me lunch, isn't she?" he raised an eyebrow at her.

She gave him a look which screamed 'Oh please.'

"I had not realised you and Charlotte were so close. You only met at a charity event last month, did you not?"

"We've become fast friends."

"That much is obvious," she smirked, taking another sip of her water "Like I said, she's extremely fond of you."

When he didn't respond she said nothing more. London continued to be uncharacteristically hot – that being the main reason they'd chosen to eat in the garden – and she was suffocating in her white cashmere coat. She stood and began to unbutton it, not missing the way the American's eyes roamed over her figure, which was much more prominent in the dress underneath.

She'd been blessed with a naturally waifish figure a la Audrey Hepburn, and it was something she worked hard to maintain, so she had to hold back a self satisfied smirk when she noticed his eyes flit to her legs. They were her favourite body part. After her brother's wedding, the public may have been very openly admiring Pippa Middleton's bum, but her legs had grabbed an equal amount of attention and continued to do so since – something she encouraged by wearing heels 90% of the time. She draped the coat over the back of her chair before sitting back down, crossing her legs and brushing a few stray strands of hair away from her forehead.

Before any kind of awkward silence could settle in, Charlotte returned, a waiter in tow carrying a tray of champagne. Eloise gave a quiet laugh – only Charlotte would have a waiting service for a supposedly casual and intimate lunch.

"How much longer are you in London, El?" Charlotte asked as they all accepted a glass.

"I'm not sure," she placed the drink in front of her without drinking any "There's another garden party at the start of June and then another a week after – they're all in London this year – and I might just stay for all three to support Gran...but I suppose I might get the urge to leave beforehand."

Brian snorted and she frowned questioningly.

"Just hearing you call the Queen 'Gran'," he shook his head.

Charlotte gave a loud, over-the-top laugh "Yes, it is very strange isn't it."

Eloise gave a smaller, quieter laugh – mostly out of politeness – before continuing "Why do you ask?"

"I'm having a party on the 31st – a rooftop party – everyone's coming. They all miss you, you should come alone."

"If I'm still in London, I will," Eloise agreed, but instantly regretted it when Charlotte looked to Brian and grinned.

She had a bad feeling she'd just agreed to what Charlotte would definitely consider a date between her and Brian.

"Excellent! See, Brian is new here after all and well, I'll obviously have to attend with Richard, and so you should go with Brian so that he doesn't feel left out!"

Eloise couldn't even bring herself to be annoyed. She'd walked right into it. Instead, she gave an incredibly fake smile and nodded, already debating on which foreign country she'd be in instead of the party.