Page 59 of Once Upon a Royal Summer
She knew.
Lacey had only been back in her pristine—well, except for the tiny hidden chocolate stain on the sofa—bedroom for a few minutes after the end of the parade when there was a soft knock at the door.
Henry.
Happiness sparkled through her as she padded barefoot across the lush carpeting toward the threshold. She’d just changed into her pajamas and was about to slip into bed with a book. Today had been a good day. She was finally beginning feel a bit more at home in the palace—although, come on, it was more like a museum than a cozy home. No wonder Rose had been so enamored with the sights and sounds at Once Upon A Time. The little girl was a real-life princess, but from what Lacey had seen so far, she didn’t get much of a chance to be just a regular kid.
Rose had such a special dad, though. Why was he at her door? She didn’t think he’d press her about the photograph again—not so soon. Dare she hope for a goodnight kiss?
The very idea of it made her breathless as she swung the door open. “Hey, you.”
And then she froze, all thoughts of a goodnight kiss dissipating into a fog of alarm.
She gripped the doorknob so tight that her hand went numb. “Your Majesty.”
Henry’s mother stood in the gilded palace hallway with her spine as perfectly straight as it always was and not a hair out of place. Despite the late hour, she was still dressed in her usual pressed pastel suit, sheer pantyhose, and tasteful stilettos.
Lacey wondered if she even owned a bathrobe. Or sweatpants. She hoped so.
But it was difficult to worry about what the queen might wear if she ever decided to lounge about and binge-watch a Hallmark movie marathon when Lacey had no idea what the monarch was doing at her door.
“Lacey.” Queen Elloise smiled and gave Lacey a polite, queenly nod.
Lacey swallowed and dropped into her Princess Sweet Pea curtsey. She even held up the ruffled trim of her pajama shorts with her fingertips arranged in Cinderella hands. Ugh, why did she keep doing that?
Old habits died hard. Or maybe Lacey just felt more comfortable taking on the role of someone else, someone who everybody seemed to like, instead of trying to fit in all on her own.
Now is the not the time for an existential crisis. There’s a queen at your door. Invite her in.
Lacey straightened. “Come on in,” she said as she held the door open wide, grateful that Queen Elloise seemed to be ignoring her slip into character.
“I apologize for intruding on you so late, but I wanted to have a little chat, if you don’t mind,” the queen said in her perfect, clipped accent.
“Oh, there’s no need to say you’re sorry. After all, it’s your house.” Lacey waved a hand at the luxurious decor. “Um. I mean, castle.”
Seriously?
She needed to stop talking. Right now.
“Would you like to sit down?” Lacey tried to lead her toward the sitting area, but her footsteps faltered when she spotted her fancy silk duvet strewn over the top of the white velvet Queen Ann sofa and both tufted wingback side chairs. “Oops. I made a blanket fort earlier.” Lacey scrambled to gather the duvet into her arms.
She thought it best not to mention the blanket fort had been for Rose, even if it would be very odd to make one for herself. The little girl had been so spectacular at the royal procession earlier. Lacey didn’t want to risk getting her into trouble. The queen might not like the idea of Rose visiting Lacey in her room every day.
“No need to put yourself out.” The queen tucked an invisible wayward strand of hair behind her ear. “This won’t take long.”
Lacey kept bunching the duvet into a manageable heap, but it seemed to go on forever in an endless trail of silk damask. She finally gave up and tossed it onto the bed. In the flurry of activity, the throw pillow on the settee fell over, exposing Ava’s chocolate stain. Lacey had been so busy making butterfly feeders and decorating Rose’s pony that she still hadn’t had a chance to deal with it. With the queen in the room, the smudge of chocolate no longer seemed so tiny. It seemed about as obvious as a footman with bunny ears.
Lacey wished the grand palace floor would open up and swallow her whole.
“It’s really all right,” the queen said. “I’ll stand.”
She didn’t utter a word about the mess. Lacey wished she would. Somehow, the monarch’s gracious silence only made her feel worse.
Lacey wrapped her arms around herself, wishing fervently she wasn’t dressed in ruffled pajamas for an impromptu tête-a-tête with Henry’s mother. Why was she always so underdressed for these surprise royal visits? “Okay. Well, what can I do for you, Your Majesty?”
She resisted another irrational urge to curtsey. It seemed to happen every time she called the queen by her royal title. Instead, she wiggled her toes in the carpet, wondering if her lavender toenail polish broke some sort of royal protocol.
Queen Elloise’s gaze darted to Lacey’s feet before meeting her gaze again. “I wanted to speak to you about Rose’s performance today in the procession.”
