"Both of you just had to arrive at the last minute, didn't you?"
Maverick had barely stepped down from the carriage when the familiar voice reached him. Looking ahead, he saw Nicholas standing with his arm folded neatly across his chest.
The nonchalant and easygoing charm Nicholas usually carried was nowhere to be found. Dressed in his formal royal attire, his posture rigid, he looked every bit the prince today.
People often said clothes could change a man. Maverick had never believed it—until now.
Who would have thought the Casanova standing in front of Maverick is the King's younger brother from the way he speaks and behaves, except for his looks.
Nicholas smirked faintly. "Abigail was worrying you wouldn't make it."
"We wouldn't dare miss it," Maverick replied smoothly. "Besides, the groom is my uncle."
A subtle smile tugged at his lips as he turned back, reaching into the carriage. He clasped a pale hand, guiding Julius out.
