#beaumont bash

Chapter 14 - The Beaumont Bash - Part 1

The next morning Riley entered the kitchen for breakfast, and Bertrand followed a moment later. He smiled and acknowledged her politely, as if he hadn’t slept in her bed last night. “Good morning, Lady Riley.”

She grinned, “Morning Bert.”

The two locked eyes for a moment, exchanging private smiles.

“Uh, good morning Maxwell!” Max said in amusement, from his spot at the kitchen table where he was having a blackberry scone and tea. “Hope you guys didn’t miss me too much last night.”

“Yes, yes, good morning Maxwell.” Bertrand said, busying himself at the stove with a cup of tea. “I hope you didn’t get into too much trouble last night.”

Riley sat down beside Max with a grin. “Good morning, sunshine! Sooo, tell me how your date went,” Riley said, taking a bite of his scone.

Max smiled conspiratorially, “Let’s just say the Amazing Armando is indeed amazing. I swear I can barely walk today!”

“Ha!” Riley chuckled, “Same.”

She froze once she realized what she just implied. Bertrand still had no idea that she had told Maxwell about their arrangement, and Max had no idea that they had sex. Her eyes widened and she quickly glanced behind her at Bertrand, who had turned away, a telltale blush creeping up his neck. “I mean.. Because I was working so hard yesterday preparing for the court’s arrival! And my.. legs are tired.” 

Maxwell’s jaw hung open and he looked between the two of them, though neither would meet his eyes. He kicked Riley’s leg under the table, and mouthed, “What the hell!? Details!”

Riley shook her head and checked behind her for Bertrand, but he had disappeared. “You seriously want details about what me and your brother did last night?” She whispered.

“Uh, if it involves Bertrand no longer being a thirty year old virgin, then yes I want details!”

Riley looked down, trying not to grin. “A lady shouldn’t talk about such things.”

Maxwell smiled delightedly, “You screwed him, didn’t you? Oh, you slutty queen!”

RIley laughed, “I should be calling you that! Spending the night with the Amazing Armand after one date!”

“Uh, it’s Armand-o!,” Max corrected her. “Can’t forget the ‘o’ because he sure as hell didn’t.” Maxwell sighed as he reminisced. “Several ‘o’s’ in fact..” 

“Maxwell!” Riley chuckled. “Damn, you did have fun last night!”

“Sounds like you did too.” Max smirked, “And I’ll gladly share my title of slutty queen with you.”

The two friends laughed together and Maxwell sipped his tea thoughtfully. “You know, I called it from the beginning.”

“Called what?”

His mouth rose into a smirk, “You guys are totally in love now.”

“What?! You’re crazy!”

Max ignored her, shimmying in his seat excitedly. “I always wanted a sister!”

“Max! It’s not like that!”

Just then a maid entered the room and the conversation abruptly ended, much to Riley’s relief.

__________________________________________

Bertand couldn’t wipe the smile from his face. The court would begin arriving in a couple hours and normally he would be a nervous wreck, but not today. Today everything seemed right with the world. Nothing could bring him down.

His phone chimed with a text and he smiled even brighter when he saw who it was from- Riley. She had sent him a picture of herself in the dress she was planning to wear that day. God, she looks gorgeous. Of course he couldn’t tell her those exact words, it wouldn’t be appropriate. So he responded, “That dress is quite acceptable for the court’s arrival.”

She sent back a kissing smiley face with a heart, and butterflies fluttered in his chest. 

Bertrand sat his phone back on the counter and grinned at himself in the mirror as he fixed his hair. I look pretty darn good today. Just then his phone chimed again and he quickly snatched it back up, excited to see what Riley was sending him now.

His heart dropped as he read it. “I can’t wait to see you today!” From Savannah.

Savannah. He had utterly and completely forgotten about her existence. Now she’s coming here and she’s excited to see me. He sighed and sat the phone back on the counter, and his stomach twisted with guilt. 

The past few weeks he had been living in a fantasy world, but now it was time to wake up. The coronation was happening very soon and there was a chance that Riley would be chosen. In fact, the press was naming Riley, Olivia, and Madeleine as the ‘frontrunners’ for queen. Whatever Liam and Drake had between them clearly wasn’t anything more than physical.. and maybe he had read too much into the whole thing in the first place. It's not like he actually saw anything happen between them.

He should be happy. After all, Riley becoming queen was the plan from the beginning. 

With a heavy sigh, Bertrand buttoned up his suit jacket and made his way downstairs, ready to play the perfect, proper Duke of Ramsford.

Just the way he was expected to.

The way it would be for the rest of his life.

________________________________________________

Riley, Bertrand, and Maxwell greeted their noble guests as they arrived in the grand dining room for dinner. Riley mingled politely with the other ladies of court while they gossiped and chatted about Liam and the Beaumont bash which was taking place after dinner that night. 

Liam made his way over to the group and held his hand out to Riley. “If you ladies will excuse us, I would like a word with our hostess for the evening.”

Riley followed Liam to a private corner of the room where they sat together. “It’s lovely to see you again, Lady Riley,” Liam smiled that charming prince smile and she couldn’t help but return it.

“You too, Your Highness.”

“I thought I told you to call me Liam,” he grinned cheekily.

“I thought I told you to call me Riley,” she quipped back and Liam chuckled.

“The estate is lovely. Bertrand told me that you had a hand in choosing some of the decor?”

“Oh, yes! Can you actually believe he gave up some control and let me and Max help?”

Liam chuckled, “Not really. The duke has always been a control freak.. Likes things to be just so. Which is why I find myself feeling a bit sorry for you.”

“What do you mean?” She asked.

“Being under constant scrutiny by Bertrand Beaumont must be exhausting.”

Riley watched Bertrand across the room, engaging their guests with a perfect air of confidence and propriety, and she couldn't help but smile fondly. “Nah. He’s cool.”

“Cool?!” Liam laughed, “I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone describe Bertrand as ‘cool’, but I suppose you’ve gotten to know him better than most these past few months.”

Riley felt her cheeks heat up. She certainly had. 

Just then, Savannah made her way over to Bertrand, leaning in and giving him a kiss on the cheek. Riley watched with rapt attention, trying to decipher what they were saying. Bertrand looked down shyly, while a faint blush colored his cheeks, and Riley felt her stomach drop. They were flirting.. And Savannah made him blush. 

Of course he’s flirting with her. He likes her.

Liam cleared his throat, “Riley? Earth to Riley? Did you hear anything I said?”

Riley shook off her stupor, and turned to Liam ruefully. “I’m so sorry, Liam. I was just.. Distracted for a moment. I suppose I’m a bit tired.”

Liam smiled, “Well, perhaps dinner will help you get reenergized.”

“I’m sure it will.” Riley tried to smile, but her attention once again returned to Savannah and Bertrand while they laughed together.

________________________________________

Riley found herself seated at the head table during dinner, Liam, Regina, and Constantine on her left, Bertrand and Maxwell on her right. 

She smiled amiably, practiced impeccable table manners, engaged in polite conversation with the royal family, and by all means, was the perfect lady. But everything about the evening felt forced on her part. At one point, she crossed her legs and accidentally brushed her foot against Bertrand, who immediately blushed and jerked away. 

So of course she had to do it again, intentionally.

Riley slipped her shoe off and casually stretched out her leg, sliding it along Bertrand’s ankle. He sucked in a breath and sputtered and coughed, face growing red.

“Dear boy, are you alright?” Constantine asked in concern.

Bertrand cleared his throat and plastered on a smile. “My apologies, Your Majesty. I’m alright now.” He glanced at Riley briefly and blushed all over again.

Riley smiled, wondering how far he would let this go. She slid her foot up Bertrand’s pant leg slightly, rubbing up and down his calf. His face was flushed, and his breathing was becoming labored, but the royal family were talking amongst themselves and paying them no mind.

Savannah who, she thought to herself with a smile.

She casually reached over to Bertrand’s lap and caressed his upper thigh with her fingertips. He shivered, but still didn't stop her. 

Ya, he likes it.

Riley dropped her napkin on the floor and as she leaned under the table to pick it up, grazed her hand across the front of Bertrand’s crotch.

“Riley!” Bertrand gasped, and everyone at their table turned to look at him. “I, er.. “ 

Riley quickly sat up and formulated a lie. “Bertrand was just reminding me to take my.." The only thing that came to mind was the medication her mother took any time she ate dairy. “..lactase supplement.”

Liam turned to her in surprise, “I didn’t know you were lactose intolerant, Lady Riley.”

“Oh ya, I totally bloat up like a pufferfish if I forget my pill.” She tried not to visibly cringe at how unladylike she just sounded. 

“It’s true,” Maxwell added, “Digestive health is no joke.”

Now she was beginning to sweat while the royal family gawked at her. Riley cut her eyes over and Bertrand was pinching the bridge of his nose, while Max held his hand over his mouth, shoulders shaking as he attempted to contain his laughter. 

Regina cleared her throat. “Well, we wouldn’t want you to have digestive issues and miss your first Beaumont bash. Of course you should take your medication.”

They looked at her expectantly and Riley nodded. “Oh.. yes of course.” She dug around in her purse, pretending to remove a pill, before “swallowing” it. 

Thankfully dessert was served, interrupting the awkward hell that this dinner had become. Riley supposed she deserved it after torturing Bertrand like that. 

Regina leaned forward to speak to Riley directly. “If you will indulge me, I have a bit of a personal question for you, Lady Riley.”

Riley plastered on a polite smile. “Of course, Your Majesty.”

Regina’s face grew serious. “I know this isn’t the life you grew up in, and the past few months have been a big change for you. So, I have to ask.. if you are chosen as Liam’s bride, do you feel you would want to continue this life on a daily basis? And would you be ready, not only to marry, but also to be queen?”

Riley froze, as all eyes fell on her. She immediately looked from Bertrand, to Liam, then back to Bertrand. “I..”

Bertrand interrupted, “Of course she would be ready!”

Regina chuckled, “I know you’re invested as her sponsor, but there’s no need to answer for her, Duke Bertrnd.”

Riley’s heart crashed to the floor. Even after everything, he still wants me to marry Liam. She forced a smile. “No, Bertrand’s right.. Of course I would.”

Constantine clapped his hands together with a grin. “Well, that satisfies me. Unless my lovely wife has any more forthright questions for our son’s suitor?” 

Regina swatted his arm playfully. “Oh, darling, you know I’m just concerned for Liam’s future.”

Bertrand tapped his glass, and stood to address the entire room. “Now that the dessert has been served, the grand hall is open. Please join us there for after dinner festivities as we celebrate the end of the social season with the annual Beaumont bash!”

@angelasscribbles @harleybeaumont @aussiegurl1234 @alj4890 @twinkleallnight @karahalloway @jerzwriter @kingliam2019

“Ohmygod, look at that one!” Ellie exclaimed as she scrolled through Pinterest with Olivia.

Olivia rolled her emerald eyes. “That’s nothing.”

“Yea, Okay Liv, but we both know we’d never get the guys to agree to something like this. She kept scrolling through. “I mean they are fun, Mario and Princess Peach, Oh. My. God! Look at Jessica and Roger Rabbit!” She scrolled down further, blue eyes going wide. “I take it back! This Roger Rabbit and Jessica, look at her she’s freaking ripped! How the hell did these women talk these men into their costumes?!” Olivia arched her brow knowingly. “Ummm yea, that, but really that won’t here.” She pointed at a picture of seven guys all dressed as different Disney Princesses. “I mean…”

“You underestimate yourself if you don’t think you could get Liam in one of these.”

“Okay Liv, you really could get Bastien to agree to something like this.”

“I could, and I guarantee it would blow anything you and Liam came up with out of the water.”

“Of course you would make it a bet.”

“Does that mean you don’t accept the challenge?”

“Oh no, you’re on, best gender swap costume wins, the loser has to wear the losing costume to brunch the next morning and pay.”

“You’re on, and so going down. A Nevrakis never loses.”

*

Olivia pulled her long crimson hair back into a low bun, her eyes trailing down the rest of her costume in the bathroom mirror. Perfect. She smirked at her reflection, as she gently brushed her hand over the small bump visible in her tight white v neck. She turned to look at the shirt she discarded, still hanging on the hanger. No more crop tops for now. She grabbed her belt, adding the final touch. “You might want to cover your ears, Papa isn’t gonna be thrilled when he sees his costume.” As if on cue she heard the door to their suite open and shut. Even retired, he refused to give up on security, always double checking to ensure everything was secure. “Your costume is on the bed.” She gave herself one last cursory glance, straightening her black vest, before exiting the en-suite.

She stifled a chuckle as she saw him standing at the end of the bed holding the thin maroon material in his hand. She knew this wasn’t what he was expecting when she suggested they go as Han Solo and Slave Leia, she was certain of that by the way he had said yes before the entire suggestion left her lips. She was sure he had visions of her dressed in the barely there bikini, while he was a dashing Han Solo. Think again, I have a bet to win.

Bastien turned, a perplexed look on his face. “What’s this?”

“Your costume, like I said.”

“Livvy, you can’t actually expect me to wear this.” He looked up, eyes slowly trailing up her body. He took in her black knee high boots, skin tight blue jeans, white v neck, black vest. She isn’t kidding. “I can’t wear this.” He shook his head in dismay. There isn’t enough fabric to cover me.

She smirked as she crossed the room to him. “Sure you can.” She unbuttoned his dress shirt. “You certainly have the body for it.” She traced her hands down his firm chest and impressive twelve pack for emphasis.

He shivered under her touch. Don’t give in. “This won’t conceal much, if anything.” He held up the sheer maroon loin cloth.

“Relax, I got you a banana hammock.” She gestured to the small flesh colored material on the bed, sitting next to his collar and chain.

He looked at the barely there undergarment that more resembled dental floss than actual underwear with a grimace. Banana hammock? It’s a g-string! He knew she was only calling the flesh colored scrap of fabric by that name as a means to tease him for his dislike of bananas.

She teased her finger along the waistband of his pants, smiling as he sucked in a sharp breath. “I don’t beg...” Her fingers undid his buckle. “...but I’d be willing to get on my knees.” She winked, pulling down his zipper. She sank to the floor, settling on her knees before she pulled his pants and boxer briefs down, releasing his half hard cock.

He groaned as she wrapped her hand around his length, pumping it in slow, smooth strokes. She smiled as she watched him react to her ministrations, his cock becoming fully hard in a matter of seconds.

“Don’t worry, you’ll be the hottest Leia they’ve ever seen.” She continued to slide her slender hand up and down his thick shaft, feeling heat pool in her core. Later. “You have such a spectacular body; it would be a shame to not show it off.”

“You’re just saying that to get me to…” His words trailed off as she wrapped her plush red lips around his swollen head. His hand gripped the back of her head, steely eyes locked on emerald as he gently bucked into her mouth. “Fuck Livvy.”

She bobbed her head up and down his length, her tongue swirling around his shaft. She gripped his firm buttock with her other hand, giving it a hard squeeze.

He moaned, one of the things he fell in love with was her ability to take charge. He watched as his thick length disappeared into her mouth again and again. His mind swirled; he knew the second he saw his costume he didn’t really have a choice. She doesn’t play fair.

God she’s a goddess with her mouth. He felt his balls tighten and he knew he wouldn’t last much longer. “Livvy.”

She nodded her head, her hand cupping his balls, rolling them in her hand. She hollowed her cheeks, creating suction as she increased her pace.

He fisted her bun as he bucked into her mouth. His eyes remained locked on hers as he came with a groan, spilling down her throat. He softened the hold on her hair as he watched her swallow every drop.

Olivia eased up her pace, gently licking his softening cock clean before releasing it from her mouth. She rose to her feet, wiping the corners of her mouth. “I still think you can pull it off.”

“It was never a question of could… it was more should.”

“You should always show off your impressive physique.”

Bastien laughed shaking his head. God I love this woman.

“So you’ll wear it?”

He looked at the costume in question, knowing it was too late to change costumes. “It’s not like I have another option.”

“Very true.”

“You know you didn’t have to…”

“I know.” She smiled trailing her hand down his bare chest. “I could help you make sure everything is put away.” She licked her lips suggestively.

He forced himself to focus on anything other than her soft hands ‘helping’ him conceal himself in the small undergarment. He knew what would happen the instant her hands were on his body again. God she’s more insatiable than ever. “Thank you for the offer, but we both know that we’ll never leave the room if you do.”

She bit her lip as she hummed her agreement. “You’re absolutely correct.” Her heated gaze scanned his chest, taking in the toned tanned muscle covered in dark chest hair. She felt the heat in her grow. “Go get dressed before I change my mind about going to the party.”

He chuckled as he picked up the small pieces of his costume. He’d much rather stay in the room all night wrapped in her arms, but if he knew one thing about his wife, it was she chose this costume for a reason, one he wouldn’t find out if they were a tangle of sweaty limbs all night. I’ll just have to persuade her to come back early.

*

Olivia nervously toyed with her rings with the pad of her thumb. Large cushion cut emerald and simple platinum band, the perfect mix of him and her, past and present. She smiled as he squeezed her right hand in his, his ability to understand her only growing over the course of their relationship.

“Don’t be nervous.”

“I’m a Nevrakis, we don’t get nervous.” Her voice falling flat, belying her feelings. She turned to look at him. “So few know…” Her hand grazed her visible bump.

“No one will notice, they will be stunned speechless by my costume.”

Olivia chuckled. “Blinded by your impressive abs.” She’d picked the costume before finding out, now she was even more glad she went so extreme to show Ellie and Liam up. Her emerald eyes scanned the front room as they descended the grand staircase. Now where are Ellie and Liam so we can win this bet?

She slipped her hand from his, sliding it around to his backside giving it a hard squeeze as they weaved through the crowd. He removed her hand, intertwining his fingers with hers. “If you keep that up, we will have a wardrobe malfunction on our hands.”

“I’d rather not make Adelaide’s night, I’ll behave.” For now.

*

Adelaide bit her lip as Bastien caught her eye. She allowed her gaze to shamelessly roam his exposed form, her eyes slowly raked down his sculpted chest and abs. What I wouldn’t give to lick them. She shivered slightly as she allowed herself to imagine his chest hair brushing against her erect nipples as she ravished him. Why do all the young men of Cordonia believe a woman wants a smooth chest? A real woman wants a real man; rugged, buff, with hair on his chest. She tilted her head slightly to the side as she reached the sheer maroon fabric. Covered, what a pity. She licked her thin lips as she allowed her mind to wander. She could tell by the barely concealed bulge that he would be a sight to behold. Is it all length or does he have girth too? A shiver ran down her spine as she allowed herself to imagine his large hands manhandling her. She shook her head sadly before draining her glass of champagne. Another opportunity missed. She turned going off in search of another glass of champagne, there was no point in trying to speak to him, she knew Olivia had her claws in far too deep to let him venture off alone looking like that.

*

Drake’s chestnut eyes went wide and he quickly averted his gaze as Bastien and Olivia joined them. He nervously cleared his throat as he struggled to erase the image of Bastien from his mind. “I love you Bas, but I didn’t need to see so much of you.”

“Admit it Walker, you're just jealous you won't look this good in a decade.” Olivia looked Drake up and down, fighting back a chortle at his stay puff marshmallow costume. “Or ever.”

Drake went to run his hand through his hair forgetting the ridiculous hat on his head. Stupid costume! Next time I’m not letting Ellie pick what I dress as.

"Drake, it's no different than when we do laps."

"Really Bas? It’s a huge difference. I mean that's a speedo. This is…” His words trailed off as he reluctantly looked over Bastien’s costume. “I don't know what it is, but it’s not a speedo!"

“Drake, it really is no different.” Ellie stated. “I’m impressed Liv, getting Bas to show off his impressive form, he will be the talk of court for weeks to come.”

“Excuse me my queen?” Liam asked looping his arm around her waist.

“Relax Li, I’m just saying he has an impressive body and I’ve noticed several party goers checking him out as well.”

Olivia smiled, Ellie and Liam’s costume was so perfectly them, but she and Bastien had clearly won. Ellie wore a royal blue waistcoat, cut low almost like a corset and trimmed in gold. Her black locks were mostly down with two pigtails at the front of her head twisted to form horns, she wore minimal face paint, just a nose and a bit of lines to give the appearance of fur, but not too much as to conceal her identity. She nearly laughed at Liam’s long wavy wig. Instead of a dress he’d opted for a gold tailcoat and matching pants, complete with ruffles at the sleeves and collar. Both costumes were well made, clearly professionally made just for the royal couple, yet the idea wasn’t inventive enough. “Liam, I assure you, you have nothing to worry about, your queen only has eyes for you. But I just need to know, what do you think of Bastien’s costume?”

Liam easily slipped into his kingly persona. “Your concept is certainly... forward thinking”

Ellie and Olivia snorted at his polite answer. Even among friends he found it hard to be harsh.

Maxwell danced up to his friends, Olivia lost it at the sight of his gold lamé parachute pants, airbrushed tee and red, white, and blue jacket, topped off with thick gold chain. “Dare I ask who you’re supposed to be Maxwell?”

Maxwell clutched his hand to his chest as he feigned hurt. “Olivia, how could you not recognize Vanilla Ice?” She raised her brow in question. “He’s a rapper, you know ‘ice ice baby. He’s from the nineties...” He trailed off as his brilliant blue eyes fell on Bastien. “Be honest, do you think I could pull that off? I think I could pull it off.” Maxwell rambled to himself. “OMG WE CAN BE TWINS NEXT TIME!" He screamed excitedly.

The group erupted in laughter.

“It’s not that funny guys.” Maxwell pouted deflating ever so slightly.

“Lord Maxwell, I wanted to thank you for implementing the no mask or full face paint rule for costumes.” Bastien said, glancing at the nearby faces.

Maxwell nodded, he’d originally been upset by Bastien suggestion. He soon remembered how badly he’d taken finding out Justin wasn’t who he thought, especially after getting in trouble with Ellie for the cronut incident.

“Bas, you no longer have to use formalities, we are all friends here.” Liam stated.

“Sorry sir, force of habit.” Bastien replied to a chorus of new laughter.

*

Savannah rolled her eyes as Bastien and Olivia joined their group. Could she have picked a tackier costume? “Olivia, for a woman who was born into nobility and raised in the palace, you sure lack taste.” She wrinkled her nose at Bastien’s costume. “As Duke and Duchess shouldn’t you have less revealing costumes?” If you could call it that. I’ve seen more fabric on Penelope’s poodles.

“I have more taste in my pinky finger than you have in your entire body. You’re just jealous that your husband couldn’t pull this costume off in a hundred years.”

Savannah eyed Olivia up and down, eyes widening slightly as she opened her mouth to speak.

Oh no bitch, you don’t get to announce it. “You want to talk about taste and class, yet we both know you have none. Why else would you run off to another country when the father of your child turned you down?”

Savannah gaped at Olivia, stunned speechless by her words.

“You may have married a Duke and gained a title, but I assure you, you’ll never be worthy of the title you bear. I mean, all it took was a ring and you forgot everyone who was there for you.”

Savannah felt steam leave her ears. “What is that supposed to mean?!”

“It means your guest list seemed to be missing a key person in your life growing up. But I guess since you take after your mother that’s to be expected.”

“I seem to remember your own guest list forgetting a house.”

Olivia feigned a frown. She didn’t forget, maybe it was petty but she knew Savannah would feel slighted the way Bastien had. “I distinctly remember extending an invitation to every house. I even believe I sent two separate invitations to Ramsford.”

Savannah seethed, her hands curled into fists. “Lord and Duke of Ramsford, what about the Duchess?”

“Oh dear, must have slipped my mind like a certain invitation slipped yours. Not that it stopped you from showing. Bertrand really does need to revisit etiquette lessons with you; it’s very rude to show up to an event uninvited.”

“It’s not like you didn’t have enough food.”

“That’s because a good hostess is always prepared, even for the uninvited guest that may show up.” Olivia smirked at Savannah’s obvious anger. “But really I’m not sure what Bertrand was thinking when he married you.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?!” Savannah growled, she was sick of Olivia’s attitude towards her, she’d put up with it all her life, not anymore.

“I mean, after the stunt you pulled leaving the country with his child, taking money from his house, that the last thing he should have given you was a ring and a title. If it had been me I would have taken custody of the child.”

Savannah took a step forward. She’d spent her entire life trying to live up to the other nobles, now she was one, she refused to allow Olivia to disrespect her in her own house.

“Savannah!” Bertrand grabbed Savannah by the wrist, pulling her back to his side. “You will not attack a member of one of the oldest houses and tarnish the House of Beaumont.”

Savannah let out an annoyed scream. Of course he’s more worried about the status of the family than his own wife. “Fine.” She straightened, hands brushing the sides of her plain blue regency inspired costume. She spun before she stalked off, steam leaving her ears.

*

Neville felt his face grow hot with rage. The indignity! He straightened the jacket of his perfect recreation of his ancestral costume, the very first Earl of Cormery Isle, a man to be feared and respected. He’d stood idly by long enough watching nobles of so called higher houses make a mockery of his country by choosing so called love over duty to country and picking commoners.

He stalked up to the small group, his dark eyes alight with anger. “Duchess Olivia.” He sneered. “You and your husband,” the word fell from his tongue like acid, “are making a mockery of this party.”

Of course he would find himself important enough to interrupt his betters. “There are horses inside, I guarantee you this party was a ‘mockery’ well before it started.” Olivia turned her back towards Neville, signifying she was done speaking to him.

Bastien wrapped his arm around her back. “She means no offense Maxwell.”

Maxwell bounced on the balls of his feet like a small excitable child. “It wouldn’t be a Beaumont Bash if it weren’t a mockery.” He turned to the party, raising his hands in the air. “Let the revelry continue!”

Olivia rolled her eyes as Maxwell danced away being swallowed into the screaming crowd. She turned to Bastien, standing on her tiptoes to reach his ear, she ran her hand up and down his arm, her hot breath fanning against his neck as she spoke. “We’ve been thoroughly seen and you’ve been ogled by more than half the people here. Let’s get back to our room.”

He took her hand in his, eager to  get out of the costume. He still had one question, one that he had hoped to have had answered over the course of the night. “Why this costume?”

“There may have been a bet but, don’t worry, we won.”

A bet?! His eyes went wide at her admission. “You soo owe me.”

“Don’t worry, there might be a small gold bikini waiting for you in Lythikos…”

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Today, I am interviewing the younger Beaumont brother as he is in the final stages of planning the Beaumont Bash.  This is Maxwell’s first interview and I’m honoured he agreed to meet me. In three weeks, the Beaumont manor will open  to the elite of society and wonders will await behind the door. He is giving Duke Magazine exclusive behind the scenes access to his final touches and judging from the mood boards he has propped up against the walls, this may be the biggest Beaumont Bash ever.

Maxwell is taller than he looks in photographs. He is lanky and a smile permanently lights up his features. His voice isn’t that deep, more soft and lilting, occasionally increasing into a high pitched screech as he gets excited showing me his mood boards. 

‘Last year, the theme was Greek Odyssey,’  he tells me. ‘So think white dresses, white suits, waitresses dressed like goddesses, we had a giant fountain in the foyer with a life size statue of Poseidon built into it. But this year, we’re going bigger.’

He guides me over to the biggest mood board he has. It is pinned full of images of flapper dresses, vintage cars, bathtubs with champagne bottles inside, fireworks. The theme is obviously the 1920s, which seems apt considering a Beaumont Bash is always decadent and excessive. 

‘I’ve hired a stage show!’ he says. I ask him to repeat that, certain I’ve misheard.

‘As in, I’ve hired a stage show!’ he repeats. ‘The Great Gatsby is currently on Broadway in New York, so I’ve hired the cast to come to the Bash and act out their show! It’s a musical!’

He runs me through the night’s time line. ‘Okay, so 7pm, our guests arrive. They have to dress up in 1920s style, otherwise there is no admittance. Sorry, but an effort has to be made.  Drinks and canapes will be served - note the fountain which will pour out champagne- and then the stage show will perform for an hour and a half. Afterwards, fireworks outside, more drinks, more dancing, more debauchery!’ 

He leads me outside to the vast gardens. ‘The stage show will perform here,’ he says, pointing to a stage. As we walk, I study him. He is fizzing with energy. He is like a champagne bottle that has been waiting to be opened for months, before being shaken and its contents burst out of the bottle. I ask if he has always enjoyed parties and party planning; clearly, this should be his job.

‘I’ve always loved parties,’ he says. ‘My parents used to throw legendary parties when I was younger. I was always sent to bed early, just as the guests were getting a little more excited, and I would always sneak out of bed at midnight to watch. I’d sit on top of the stairs, trying to stay hidden, and watch as the guests drank more champagne and danced. I once saw my father use a sword to open a bottle of champagne; I learned how to do it so I can continue his party trick.’ 

I tell him that it’s interesting that his brother gets involved. The Duke of Ramsford is often seen with a serious expression on his face, tight lipped. He doesn’t strike me as the kind of person who lets his hair down but as photos and witness accounts tell me, he is the first person on the dance floor and the last to leave. 

‘I think the Bashes give him an excuse to let loose,’ Maxwell admits. ‘He is always so serious, so responsible.. hosting the Bash means he can put on a different persona, be the person he wants to be. Do you think he enjoys wearing sweater vests? Hell no! If it was up to Bertrand, he would wear kimonos and sparkly boots every day. He is a flamboyant peacock hidden in the body of a pigeon.’

I blink at this description but I don’t question it; Maxwell knows his brother inside out. He takes me back into the manor and upstairs to his bedroom. It’s a large space, painted blue, with beautiful artwork hanging on the walls and random items that he tells me he picked up in flea markets or while on holidays to far off places.  There is a painting of a peacock on the wall above his bed. 

‘Peacocks are my favourites,’ he says bashfully.  I ask why. It’s not like they’re cute or cuddly. 

‘Why wouldn’t they be?!’

I ask Maxwell what he does in his free time. 

‘I plan parties, I write, I like to visit museums and galleries..’

I’m surprised and I tell him so. 

‘Why?’ he asks me. ‘Museums and galleries are where I get my inspiration. I visit the exhibits and I think of what I could do next. A few years back, I visited an exhibition about India and I was obsessed with this beautiful silver and blue sari that was on display. I went around and managed to source similar material and had it made into my own outfit; the Bash that year was India themed. We had elephants in the garden and the food was excellent.’ 

He looks down, picking at his fingernail, before saying quietly, ‘Life is meant to be beautiful. I never see things in black or grey. Everything to me is vivid. It has to be bold and bright; it’s why I’m always happy and positive. Life is to be enjoyed and surrounding myself with pretty things, making pretty things.. it makes me happy.’

I see now that Maxwell Beaumont is always underestimated. Many of the public just view him as a party boy who doesn’t contribute anything to society.  Others adore him, mainly because his Instagram feed is full of fun photos of holidays, his friends, animals, books he is reading. 

But he is so much more than that. In front of me is this young man who has a membership to the National Museum of Cordonia. He has a subscription to Architectural Digest magazine. He tells me he is currently writing a spy novel. He is warm and kind. I like him.

He stands up and opens his wardrobe to show me his outfit the Bash. It is a white shirt with black trousers, but he has made it interesting by adding a blue sequin blazer, blue sequin bow tie and blue suede loafers with silver tassels. He adds white gloves and a pocket watch on a chain. 

He gives an excited giggle and claps his hands together. I ask who is on the VIP List. 

‘Drake and Camille, obviously,’ he begins, name checking the Duke and Duchess of Valtoria. ‘I’m so excited to see how Camille depicts the theme, I’m thinking she’s going to be all sultry... the King is going,  his brother Leo, Olivia, Hana...’

Maxwell blushes when he mentions Hana Lee’s name. The best friend of Duchess Camille of Valtoria, Hana has been spotted out on Maxwell’s arm over the past six months. The two of them kept their relationship private for a while but eagle eyed fans watched out for candid photos. When Maxwell finally made it Instagram official with a photo of the two of them at a carnival sharing candyfloss, with Hana shoving a big piece of it in Maxwell’s face as she laughed, captioned with a heart emoji, his followers rejoiced.  They christened them Hanwell. 

Having interviewed Hana myself, I was surprised to hear about the two of them. Hana is shy, quiet and incredibly polite. She was a tricky interviewee to begin with as she seemed so nervous in case of divulging private information, but once she settled and got into the swing of the interview, she opened up and was giggly, sweet and complimenting my shoes. 

In contrast, Maxwell offered me a cinnamon brioche bun before I had even sat down. 

But, having talked to him more fully now, I guess I can see why the two of them work.

‘I push her to be bold,’ he tells me. ‘She can be so down about herself but she is honestly brilliant at everything. Anything she does, she turns to gold. But she often doesn’t believe in herself so I push her to just do her best. Believe in herself more.’

What does she do for you? I ask.

‘She makes me see that I don’t have to be 100% on all the time. I’m allowed to feel sad, or be quiet, or just stay still. I’m always on the go, needing to do things. Maybe it’s because after my parents died, I felt like I needed to be the one to make my brother laugh.. I made myself into the joker, the fun loving guy. But Hana has taught me that it’s okay to have quiet moments and not to pressure myself to be constantly on adrenaline. I can relax and nothing is going to go up in flames.’

I feel I need to probe him further about his dynamic with his brother but I don’t want to over step. Their parents died in a car crash when Maxwell was ten and Bertrand was fifteen and it is common knowledge that Bertrand became Maxwell’s guardian - their family is very small and as a result, they were the only Beaumonts left. 

Maxwell waves his hand away. ‘You can ask me,’ he tells me. ‘Bertrand is basically my dad, brother and teacher in one. He’s taught me so much about the importance of being a Beaumont, about our roles in society. He always made sure I studied hard at school; considering I couldn’t sit still most of the time, he made me put my head down and just work. I studied loads and got A’s across the board. I was such a geek! But in all seriousness, Bertrand assumed this responsibility for me. I owed it to him to work hard at school.’ 

Maxwell went on to study at Cordonia University, despite achieving top grades. He could have attended a more prestigious institution but, as he tells me, he wanted to experience something normal. 

‘My life, being a Beaumont, it’s not normal,’ he admits, flopping down onto his bed. ‘I’m friends with the King. My life is just a carousel of parties, titles, etiquette, balls, money.. so when I graduated from high school, which was a private education that was full of boys like me, well, I wanted a change. So I chose to go to Cordonia University. Just to stress, it’s not a bad school in the slightest. It’s a great school; but compared to the institutions I could have gone to, it was on a lower level. I hope that comes across okay? I don’t want to sound arrogant..’ 

He blushes and stammers, trying to think of the best way to word it. I can tell you this now, reader; he is not arrogant. 

‘Anyway,’ he says, giving up on trying to justify his words, ‘I went there and I loved it. I still studied hard but I made friends with people who weren’t noble. Bertrand wanted me to have a bodyguard with me at all times but I said no; I wanted to be a normal student. So for four years, I went to lectures and seminars. And the parties! That was my proper education! Beach parties, pizza parties, revision parties... so many parties! But some of the people I’m friends with are still from my university years. I think it’s why I’m not exactly your typical noble..’ 

He certainly isn’t that and it’s quite refreshing. 

Maxwell finished university with first class grades  (despite all the partying) and came back to Cordonia to learn the ropes from Bertrand. 

We go back to lighter topics. I ask what he thinks about the Met Gala. 

‘I am waiting on my invitation from Anna Wintour...’ he says, giving me a wink. His face then goes serious. ‘I mean it, I’m waiting. You work under the Conde Naste company right? They also house Vogue. Ask her to send me an invite!’

I wonder which celebrities he thinks interprets the Met theme perfectly every year. 

‘Blake Lively,’ he says instantly. ‘Oh my God, her red dress and that crown she wore last year, god she looked incredible! Rihanna too, dressing as the Pope. I would love to invite her to a Bash. Who knows what she would do?!’ 

My questions turn to his guests. Who drinks the most? I think it has to be the Duke of Valtoria, due to the fact he is known for always drinking whiskey at balls and never champagne, and that he just looks like he can drink you under the table. 

‘You would think that Drake drinks the most..’ Maxwell muses, ‘but honestly - I hope he doesn’t kill me for saying this because this could be treason.. is this treason? Can he decide what’s treason and what isn’t? Fuck it - King Liam. Liam drinks the most.’

I choke on my water. 

He nods quickly. ‘The King, god save him, loves to let loose. He tried to raid our wine cellar once. Bertrand caught him.’

I ask who is the heavy weight.

‘Olivia,’ he answers. I blanch at her name. The Duchess of Lythikos is notorious for her cold exterior. Every journalist I know who has met her have left their meetings with her in tears. 

‘Yeah, Olivia can shot straight vodka and just doesn’t feel any effect,’ he says. ‘By contrast, Camille can handle four drinks then ends up trying to steal the sword I use to open champagne bottles. A trip to A&E happened once.. ohhh boy, Drake looked like he was going to kill me for letting his wife near that thing.. '

I am tempted to get the full story on this but I have a feeling Maxwell won't be as forthcoming. Drake Walker might actually kill him this time.

We go back downstairs to the kitchen. Maxwell shows me his plans for the menu at the Bash. ‘Canapes first, but they’re... scientific...’ he says mysteriously. He won’t tell me why they’re scientific but I imagine they’ll taste interesting. ‘My favourite food item is always the dessert. This year, I’m putting together something mixed with Toblerlone, Nutella and marshmallows. A sugary feast!’ 

He starts to look impatient to continue his planning so I take this as my cue. I start to pack away my notes and dictaphone. Maxwell gives me a warm smile and stretches out his arms. 'Bring it in!' he hollers, pulling me into a bear hug.

I part from him awkwardly. Maxwell goes pale. 'Okaaay so what's the correct way to say bye to a journalist? I've never been interviewed before.. Sorry, I'm a hugger, everyone always gets a hug from me.'

He steps back and he looks at the table before clicking his fingers. He reaches out for a wrapped item and hands it to me.

'Another for the road!' he beams.