**Author's Note** I'm having a blast writing this, to the point I was even inspired enough to make a "cover" for the book, which is that shitty photo shopped image that you probably hovered over. I was pleased to find a photo of Xavier Serrano (every one on Tumblr's face claim for Maxwell) in a black button up like Maxwell wears and then I merged that with my favorite red head, Karen Gillan. I don't really have any PS skills, but from a distance, this doesn't look terrible. Hopefully more people read and review! :]

Waking up the next morning, Violet sat up and rubbed her eyes groggily. "I should not have drank that much."

Popping her head out of the bathroom, Riley teased her. "Is that the only thing you shouldn't have done last night?"

Violet stuck her tongue out at her. "It's too early for your sass." Getting up and stretching, she let last night's actions replay in her head. "Urgh, today is going to be real awkward."

Riley finished applying the last of her make up. "I don't know, I think it's sweet. Maxwell is really into you. He stopped by to drop off some aspirin and apple juice. Figured you might be hurting today."

Eyeing the bottle suspiciously, Violet commented. "Weird combo." Shaking two pills into her hand, she knocked them back, chugging the bottle of apple juice. Shooing Riley out of the bathroom, she look a shower and got ready for the day.

Entering the dress boutique, the girls found Olivia putting on her outfit for the Derby. She looking at the pair in shock, she admitted, "Oh, I'm surprised to see YOU here. I thought you'd have gone home by now. Surely you've realized that you don't have a chance at winning."

"Uh, Olivia," Violet pointed and her head. "There's a bird nesting in your hair."

She rolled her eyes. "That just shows how ignorant you are. The Derby is basically a fashion show. If you're wearing anything less than runway couture, the press is going to walk right past you."

Riley frowned. "I'll manage something, and it won't be half as ridiculous as your get up."

Olivia laughed, mockingly. "Oh yes, I just can't wait to see what you're going to wear. Please, Riley, dazzle me." Giving a finger wave, she walked out of the boutique.

Walking over to the racks, Riley pulled out a few outfits in a frenzy. "This is perfect!" Stripping down and zipping up into her new outfit, she headed to the mirrors. Choosing a modern assemble of a solid white tank top and a high waisted rose skirt, she placed a black and white cap on her head. Strapping on some heels, she gave Violet a mock curtsey.

Nodding in approval, Violet gave Riley a slow clap. "Beautiful! Gorgeous! Bird free!

Riley giggled before plopping down on a bench. "And you?"

Grabbing a dress off the rack, she held it against her body. "Winner winner chicken dinner." Changing into it, she took a lap around the bench while Riley whistled.

"You got it girl!"

A combination of houndstooth and roses, Violet's high necked dress was a mix of modern and girly. Finding a pair of spikey black booties in her size, she happily added them to her outfit, completing the look with a gold arm cuff and a long gold knotted necklace.

"Ready, my dear?" she asked Riley with a flip of her arm.

Squinting her eyes fiercely, she nodded. "Born ready."

Sitting in the limo on the way to the Derby, Maxwell tried to give Riley tips on how to conduct herself, but the girls were too excited to be paying much attention. "So let's review. At the lawn picnic, you'll have to eat with perfect civility..."

"I've got this, Maxwell," Riley interrupted. "I won't stuff my mouth, pick my teeth, or stab Drake with a fork...no matter how tempting that last one might be."

"Why even risk eating?" threw in Violet. "You don't want the Cordians to know that their future queen has basic needs like regular folk." She fake gasped. "Or God forbid, wonder how you get rid of food waste."

Maxwell pouted. "I know this sounds basic, but Bertrand said I should go over everything. Speaking of which, how would you address Bertrand?"

"Your Gr-" started Riley.

"Grumpy!" cried out Violet, causing the girls to erupt in a fit of giggles, their once full champagne flutes nearly empty.

Maxwell pleaded with them. "C'mon guys, you promised me that you'd focus if I let you drink in the limo. This is a big deal. You address him as 'Your Grace.' And if for some reason it comes up, his full title is Duke Bertrand Beaumont of Ramsford, also known as Duke Ramsford."

Stopping at the drop off location, the limo door was opened by Bertrand. Looking sharply at Maxwell, he inquired, "How's the progress going?"

"As planned! Riley and I were just about to review her entrance to the Derby and how to get out of a car without flashing the press..."

"Adjust skirts before moving and keep your knees and feet together while swiveling out," recited Riley. Maxwell breathed a sigh of relief next to Violet and she squeezed his hand in support.

Bertrand looked displeased. "Anyone who can run an internet search can spout off that kind of protocol. We're asking you to be a lady. Maxwell, I hope you don't mind if I take the liberty of testing Riley myself."

Mumbling under his breath, he stated, "Pretty sure it doesn't actually matter whether or not I mind..." Violet gave his hand another squeeze.

"Riley, let's pretend I'm meeting you for the first time." He cleared his throat. "Hello, it's a pleasure to meet you, Lady Riley Jones."

"The pleasure is all mine, Duke Ramsford." Extending a hand to Bertrand who grabbed it with his right hand, and stepping out of the car gracefully, Riley curstied while Bertrand kissed the back it.

"Now what did I do wrong?"

"You used the wrong hand. You should have taken my hand with your left hand. Otherwise it's an insult."

Bertrand nodded, impressed. "Very observant of you."

Riley grinned. "And you thought I wasn't learning anything."

"Don't get too complacent," he warned. "You're only ever one mistake away from a scandal." Riley frowned in return. Ignoring her, he continued. "Anyway, now as we mentioned earlier, how you come across to the Cordonian people is very important, and the press can make or break you."

Extending his arm to Riley who accepted it, he led her down the path where the press was waiting. Stepping out of the limo next, Maxwell exited, and extended a hand to help Violet step out. Grabbing it gratefully, Violet allowed him to pull her out of the limo and transition to a position copying Riley and Bertrand.

"What the press writes, the people read. If the people love you, then it'll be easy to convince them you deserve their prince."

"So you've got to impress the press, so to speak," added Maxwell. "You'll be surrounded by them as soon as we pull up to the HoneyHill Downs."

"What kinds of questions should I be expecting?" asked Riley as the group continued onwards.

"It'll depend on who's doing the interview. They'll start with easy questions, asking who you are, where you're from, that sort of thing," clarified Bertrand. "People want to understand your story...so think about how you want them to see you."

"Got it, just be myself!" deduced Riley.

Bertrand looked horrified. "Heavens, no. Be a future queen who loves Cordonia and acts with grace and poise. And for the love of king and country, if they ask you about Cordonian apples, make sure you take the question seriously."

"Cordonia apples?" asked Violet.

"It's the national fruit, and one of our most important exports," answered Maxwell.

"Oh, that explains the apple juice!" exclaimed Violet. "Delicious, by the way."

Maxwell smiled, "Actually, that's just my favorite cure for a hangover, but that explanation works too. Or..." he lowered his voice so that Violet was the only one who could hear, "It could be because you are the apple of my eye."

Violet made a face. "That was bad, even for you."

"I had good intentions?"

She grinned and urged him a little faster towards Bertrand and Riley. "Easy cheesy. C'mon. They are pulling away."

Nearing the press, Bertrand asked, "How confident are you feeling right now?"

"Honestly, I feel like throwing up."

Bertrand frowned. "At least you had the decency to wait until we are out of the limo. It's a rental and we didn't want to lose our deposit."

Reaching out for her friend's hand in support, Violet suggested, "Fake it til you make it."

"It's normal to be nervous. It's a big event," sympathized Maxwell. "I have faith in you."

The group approached the racetrack where ladies and gentlemen were wearing bright colors and big hat, each of them parading through a throng of press reports who were jockeying for interviews behind a line of velvet stanchions.

"Wow, it's so exciting," breathed Riley. "I feel like I'm at a fair."

"Don't be stupid," criticized Bertrand. "This is no country fair where you weigh pigs and eat pie. This is THE outdoor even of the social season."

"This is your stop, m'lady," stated Maxwell, gesturing a split in the path.

"You...you guys are coming with me, right?" panicked Riley, voice raising an octave.

"No, we don't need to be interviewed," stated Bertrand, cooly.

"So when do I meet up with you again?"

"The ladies vying for Liam's hand have their own section. Just continue down the red carpet and search for the pink tents, and you'll be fine." Maxwell smiled reassuringly.

"Vee?" Riley looked longly at her.

Bertrand shut it down with a firm headshake.

"Sorry Riles, you got this though!"

Walking away from Riley, Violet watched her friend get swallowed in a swamp of reporters. She glanced back nervously at the group, who all gave her smiles or nods of encouragement. Maxwell called out, "Remember what Bertrand said! Easy questions first, hardball questions later. You'll do great!"

"I feel sick for her," admitted Violet.

Bertrand snorted in annoyance. "It's not like she's going off to war. You baby her too much."

Frowning, Violet fired back. "Says the one who is helicopter parenting her! I understand that there's a lot riding on her, but have faith in Maxwell's confidence in her. You'd be surprised."

Bertrand ignored her and led the group to a large white tent before ducking under the tarp to gain entrance.

Looking back at Maxwell before entering, Violet questioned, "So what are we going to do until the race?"

He grinned at her, "I could think of somethings, none of which are appropriate, so I guess we could just have a drink or two and choose a horse. We are about to enter the general social tent, verses Liam's special tent or the ladies tent, so we can always mingle with the guests. Plenty of royalty come from all off to watch the Derby." Noticing Violet's grimace, he wrapped his arm around her waist. "Never fear though, I will be by your side the whole time. I'll stick to you like white on rice, flies on garbage -"

Violet cut him off. "I get it, I get it. Thank you." She gave Maxwell an appreciative smile before the two ducked into the tent themselves.

The huge tent was filled with a generous amount of lesser royalty, all dressed in similarly intense outfits as Olivia's were. The middle of the tent had a champagne fountain while a few appetizers were on a buffet towards the back of the tent, where a full bar was stationed. The front of the tent opened up to view the race track, where a few of the jockeys where warming up their horses.

Starting for the champagne fountain, Maxwell observed, "Looks like Bertrand is out socializing, so we are on our own." Filling up two flutes and handing one to Violet, he asked, "And what should we do with our new found freedom?"

Violet's stomach grumbled. "Definitely apps. I'm starving."

Arm in arm, the pair made it over to the buffet. "Now don't fill up here, like an amateur. The best food is served at the picnic afterwards. But you do need to try this." Maxwell picked up a pastry stuffed with pork and made to feed it to Violet, who eagerly opened her mouth, before plopping it in his own mouth.

"What the heck, you tease!" cried out Violet.

Maxwell shrugged. "Your arms aren't broken." He started laughing. "Ok, for real this time. Try this." He picked up another pastry and went to feed Violet, making airplane noises and "flying" the pastry in an abstract pattern before it finally "landed" in Violet's mouth.

She chewed happily. "Oh wow." Swallowing, she smiled back at him. "Not sure it was because you kept me in suspense so long or what, but that was definitely delicious. What was it?"

Shoving another in his mouth, Maxwell shook his head. "I dunno. I just call them bready pork yum yums."

"You can't be serious."

Clearing his throat, he recited, "'A pastry by any other name would taste just as delicious.'"

"I don't think that's the exact line," teased Violet.

"Tomato, tomahtoe."

Heading towards the front of the tent, the couple was reunited with Bertrand who brought along an attractive blond with him. "Maxwell!" the blond squealed before throwing herself into his arms.

Catching her with a grunt, Maxwell greeted her with a smile. "Cassandra!"

Stepping back only slightly, she teasingly poked him in the chest. "I'm mad at you, sir! I can't believe you didn't find me right away. We always watch this event together!"

Bertrand cleared his throat and put his arm loosely around Cassandra's waist, leading her away from Maxwell and turning her towards the racetrack. "The race is about to start, my dear. We must choose our horses if you wanted to make a friendly bet."

Cassandra's face fell but her good breeding taught her to allow Bertrand to lead her away. Calling over her shoulder, she gestured, "Come on Maxwell! Can't break our tradition!"

Grabbing Violet's hand, Maxwell started to lead her in the same direction, but Violet held back. "Who is that, Maxwell?" She couldn't hide the jealousy she was feeling.

Maxwell rubbed the back of his neck, a tick that Violet had picked up on that meant that Maxwell knew she wouldn't like the answer. "Cassandra is...Bertrand's assumed match."

"Then why does she seem so much more into you?"

"Because I'm the better looking brother?" he tried. When he was met by Violet's frown he shrugged in defeat. "Originally it was assumed that Cassandra and I would marry at one point, since Bertrand was matched with another royal lady. But that one ended up marrying up in status, and so Cassandra was ...'promoted' in a sense."

Violet nodded, glumly. "And where you disappointed when that happened? That Bertrand got the one who you expected to marry this whole time?" She noticed Cassandra throw yet another look in their direction, beckoning them up to the front of the tent.

"Honestly, I like Cassandra, but I never really thought of marriage because I knew that Bertrand would be taken care of first. Sure there are rumors of who would end up with who, but in the end, it all gets upset. Look at Olivia and Liam, they grew up thinking they'd be paired off, and until just a year ago, they were. And now Olivia is fighting to keep her name in the running."

"Do you think that Liam and Olivia have feelings for each other? Why would you bring Riley into that then?"

"I think Olivia and Liam are fond of each other, they are friends. But is it love? Or the connection that Riley and Liam have? Or -" He cupped Violet's cheek. "Or the connection that we have? No where close."

He dipped his head to plant a sweet kiss on Violet's lips. Pulling away, Violet frowned at him. "I hate that you always say the right thing to make me not hate you when I really want to."

Slinging his arm around her shoulders, he pulled her in and kissed the top of her hair. "Good, cause I just wing it and hope that you realize that I'm crazy about you." Violet hid her smile from him.

Letting Maxwell lead her to where Bertrand and Cassandra were standing, Violet tried to wedge herself between Maxwell and Cassandra, but Cassandra evaded Violet who ended up between Cassandra and Bertrand instead. Sighing in annoyance, she tried to quell the jealousy and remember the words that Maxwell told her just moment before.

Sensing Violet's frustration, Maxwell swapped positions with Cassandra, so that both Maxwell and Violet were in the middle of the four. She slide her arm around him in appreciation.

"So Max," purred Cassandra. "Who do you think is going to win today?"

Maxwell gave her a blank look, "...The fastest horse?"

She slapped his chest playfully. "Dur, silly billy. But what horse is the fastest?"

Bertrand cut in, "I do believe Twilight's Dash is the favorite in this race."

Looking over the stats of the horses from their previous races, Violet disagreed. "I do believe Marabelle's Dream should win today."

Cassandra laughed haughtily. "Sure, it has done decently in the past, but it constantly falls to second against Twilight's Dash."

Violet shrugged dismissively. "Yes but Twilight's Dash trains in an arid country, which means it is used to running on hard ground." She gestured to the track. "The track is very muddy right now, giving the advantage to Marabelle's Dream who is used to this type of track in England."

"Let us place a friendly bet," suggested Bertrand. "I'll bet $100 on Twilight's Dash -"

"And I'll bet $100 on Marabelle's Dream -" interjected Maxwell.

Bertrand frowned but continued. "And the winner gets the money."

"And bragging rights!" chimed in Maxwell.

"Deal," stated Cassandra smugly, shaking Maxwell's hand. "Your answer is logical, but I think the horse with the best stats can overcome the track. Sometimes breeding is just superior. And I'm so sorry, I don't think we've formally be introduced. I'm Cassandra, Duchess of Zigoria, you are?"

"Violet, of New York." She reluctantly shook Cassandra's outstretched hand. "Doesn't a Duchess mean you are married or widowed?"

Cassandra's smile was strained. "I'm from a small country, I have the same power of a Duke, but without one. We're progressive. Also I thought you were American. I can hear that awful New York accent when you speak. So rough on the ears."

"Actually, I lived mostly in Manhattan, so their accent isn't as abrasive. I think you might be thinking of New Jersey. It's easy to get them confused if you aren't familiar."

"Regardless, it's not as elegant as ours from across the pond."

Maxwell gave Violet a squeeze. "I think it's charming."

Violet beamed at Maxwell and glared at Cassandra before turning back to the track where the majestic looking thoroughbreds pranced forward and into their boxes, tossing their heads and nickering. The gun went off and the horses exploded from their boxes.

Taking an early lead around the first bend, Twilight's Dash was a few lengths ahead of Marabelle's Dream who kept with the pack. "Go Twilight's Dash! Make daddy some money!" cried out Bertrand.

"You can do it Marabelle's Dream! Pump those horsey legs!" cheered Maxwell.

Rounding the last bend, Marabelle's Dream was neck and neck with Twilight's Dash, who looked to feel weighed down by the mud clinging to his hooves. "Now's your chance Marabelle's Dream! Finish strong!" Violet shouted animatedly.

Maxwell wrapped Violet in a tight hug as Marabelle's Dream crossed the finish line first. The horse was lead to the side and wreathed in roses. "We did it!"

"Drat!" exclaimed Cassandra. Turning to Maxwell, she asked, "What will you be spending the money on?"

Grinning at Violet, he answered, "Date night good?"

Violet grinned back, "Sounds perfect."

"Well, that was enough excitement for one day, I do believe everyone is heading down to the picnic now," stated Bertrand. Gesturing to Cassandra, he asked, "Will you be joining us?"

Looking longingly at Maxwell, she shook her head. "Thank you for the offer, but I doubt I would have much fun. I do believe I will take my leave." Planting a soft kiss on both Maxwell's and Bertrand's cheeks, she left the tent.

"I'll go find the driver," offered Maxwell. "Did you want to come with Violet?"

Noticing Bertrand's downcast look, she shook her head. "I think I'll walk with Bertrand when the car is ready. I might get lost if we get separated, I'll wait for the crowd to thin first."

As Maxwell walked away, she asked Bertrand if he wanted another drink. He shrugged in reply which she took as a sign that she should get him something. Handing him a whiskey on the rocks, she clinked her glass with his. He looked up in surprise, then glared. "What was that for? Gloating your win?"

Violet made herself smile at him. "I was at the bar and apparently the press was very impressed with Riley. I watched a bit of her segment, she was awesome. They were calling her the media darling. "The news seemed to perk him up a bit. "Thought you'd like the good news."

Bertrand sighed. "Thanks." Downing his drink, he asked bluntly, "Am I attractive? Not like in looks really, but as a match."

Violet was caught off guard. "Uh...of course!"

He waved her answer away. "No really. Cassandra's been in love with Maxwell since they were little kids, and obviously you have affection for him, but my original match left me for someone else and Cassandra seems to only want to be paired with me to get closer to Maxwell."

Smiling sadly, Violet rested her hand on Bertrand's and nudged her own whiskey towards him, which he took. "I know where you are coming from, I've always felt second to my cousins, especially in likability. Hell, even to Riley! But you have good qualities, Bertrand. You are loyal to your house, you are passionate and you are responsible. I know that you blame the current financial status of your house on yourself and I don't know the details, but you are doing your best to make things right. And maybe if you smiled more and frowned less you'd be attractive. Maybe try being less condescending and be more supportive of Maxwell. Just like you have moments of feeling insecure with him, he feels the same about you. You're his big brother and he looks up to you." He grunted in reply. "I'm serious. Look, I'm not going to blow smoke up your butt and I don't waste time telling people lies. Just calling it as I see it. Take it or leave it."

Finishing off the last of Violet's drink, he extended his arm to her. "Thank you Violet. Maxwell is right, you are a refreshing breath of fresh air. Being of noble birth, you are told most of your life about how your shit doesn't stink and how you are the best thing out there. I know it's not true, but when you are force fed it for so long, sometimes it sticks. I will try to take your suggestions to heart, since you seem to be the only one besides Maxwell who has been honest with me."

Linking her arm in his, she let him lead her back to the car. "You are most welcome, and don't worry. I promise I'll never speak of this heart to heart again."

"Much obliged."

I was trying to make Bertrand more likable vs just the villain in this story, but honesty I had the most fun writing Maxwell. I think he's the only one I can keep in character.

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