Page 49 of Once Upon A Royal Christmas
The royals moved from table to table, greeting the Kriegs’s guests and making a few minutes of small talk. It seemed to be an unofficial icebreaker, and Gracie supposed the Kriegs had arranged it so the king, queen, and princess would feel comfortable moving about the B&B all week. Just part of the holiday family.
Except Princess Alana seemed anything but regular. Gracie couldn’t take her eyes off her as she floated through the room. Her posture was so elegant and so impeccable that she could’ve been walking around with a book on her head. She spoke English, but with a European lilt to her tone that made her sound like Audrey Hepburn. She oozed royalty from every perfectly poised pore. If this was the woman Nick had mistaken Gracie for, no wonder he’d been so visibly distressed when she’d shown up in character.
“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” the princess said as she stood beside Gracie and Clara’s table. She was wearing stilettos, despite the weather. And they didn’t have a speck of snow or salt clinging to the luxe red suede.
“Nice to meet you, Your Royal Highness,” Gracie stood and immediately dropped into her party princess curtsey, as if by rote. Her gaze dropped ever so slightly and she realized the front of her ugly Christmas sweater was covered in croissant crumbs.
“Call me Alana.” The princess winked. Even her eyelashes seemed regal, nothing at all like the exaggerated extensions that were part of Gracie’s Princess Snowflake costume. “Please.”
“Of course.” Gracie swallowed. “Merry Christmas, Alana.”
“Happy Christmas. My parents and I are so pleased to be here this week for the holidays.” Call-me-Alana smiled, and somehow it seemed to be a true princess smile instead of the bubbly grin that Gracie had practiced in the mirror over and over again when she’d first created her party princess persona.
Then, with a dainty flutter of fingertips, Alana waved goodbye and moved on to the next table.
Gracie sat back down, stumbling a little as she collapsed into her chair.
“She’s really lovely, isn’t she?” Clara whispered.
“She sure is,” Gracie said, and as much as she didn’t want to admit it, the deer-in-the-headlights expression on Nick’s face when his gaze had landed on her Princess Snowflake ballgown suddenly made a lot more sense.
If Alana was the sort of woman Nick was accustomed to spending time with, what must he think of her?
His opinion doesn’t matter, Gracie told herself…
Except for the wholly inconvenient fact that the palace had decided he should escort her on a Christmas tour of the entire kingdom, starting with a cozy, fairy tale-esque carriage ride.
She blew out a breath. If she’d had a fairy godmother, Gracie would’ve been tempted to make a wish and go back to a time when crippling stage fright was her most pressing problem.
“Gracie?” Clara said.
She looked up. “Hmm?”
Clara gestured toward the front of Gracie’s ugly Christmas sweater, which was beginning to feel uglier by the second. Crumbs still dotted the red and green yarn. “You’ve got a little bit of a mess going on.”
Truer words had never been spoken.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Forget Protocol
Nick did his best to keep his expression neutral as he held the door of the carriage open for Gracie, but it was nearly impossible.
Honestly, he deserved a medal for the effort. Per the palace’s official request, Gracie had arrived at the castle dressed in full Princess Snowflake mode—from the heavily embellished crown on her head to the glitter-strewn glass slippers on her feet. Nick had only gotten a brief glance of one of the shoe’s pointed toes as she’d swished toward him across the palace courtyard. It was a miracle he’d caught so much as a glimpse because her ballgown pretty much swallowed anything and everything in its path.
Hence the struggle not to smile.
“Hello, Your Royal Highness,” Gracie said without meeting his gaze. She seemed to be focusing intently on his forehead.
Nick felt himself frown, and before he could ask why on earth she’d suddenly decided to start calling him by his HRH, she dropped into a deep curtsey.
His chest tightened, right in the vicinity of his heart.
What was she doing? And more importantly, why? Sure, they’d gotten off to a rocky start, but he’d thought they’d moved past mere formalities.
“Gracie, don’t.” He let out a ragged exhale and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Please.”
She lifted herself to a full standing position and at long last, looked him in the eye. “Why not? Curtseying is the proper protocol when greeting the Crown Prince, isn’t it?”
