Page 19 of Royal Charmer
Alice
My maid, Christina, escorts me to the parlor for tea with the king and queen the next afternoon. I keep telling myself they’re just regular people, young too, so it’s not like they’ll be dour and overly proper, but I can’t seem to shake my nerves. I know to bow my head, curtsy, and call them Your Majesty or Your Majesties to address them together. After that, I’m at a loss. I’m terrible at small talk. Isowant this not to be awkward. I was actually looking forward to it back when I thought I’d be here with you-know-who before the Ordeal. I do better conversation-wise with a little backup.
The door shuts behind me, and I’m alone in the parlor. It’s a bright room with a wall of windows, along with a gleaming wood table and antique-looking wooden dining chairs with deep red velvet cushioned seats. In the center of the table sits a large fruit bowl with real fruit, not the fake stuff people use as a decoration. A small seating area with four high-back upholstered chairs and a round table is set off to one side. I’m not sure if I should sit at the big table or in the seating area.
I wipe my clammy hands down my sides and walk to the window, admiring the view in the distance of rugged cliffs with inlets of sandy beach. I decide standing is my best bet and the easiest way to drop into a proper curtsy. I smooth the pleated folds of my navy blue A-line dress. It’s super cute with a simple short-sleeved bodice that cinches at the waist, and there’s pockets. Now I have something to do with my hands. I accessorized with a chunky blue and gold necklace, and I’m wearing new black wedge heels with embroidered flowers.
I stick my hands in my pockets and make a slow stroll around the room, working hard to stay calm. A few moments later, the door opens suddenly and my heart races, but it’s just a servant pushing a cart with the tea service over to the small seating area. “Hi.”
He glances over at me. “Good afternoon, ma’am. The queen will be here shortly.”
I bob my head. “Good. Okay. Thanks.” I scratch the side of my neck. “Good afternoon to you too.”
He leaves with a bow of his head.
I wait, staring at the delicious-looking three-tiered platter of tiny sandwiches, mini quiches, and berry tarts. My stomach growls, and I put my hand to it, ordering it to pipe down.
The door opens again and a servant intones, “Her Majesty, Queen Anna.”
I stare, temporarily awestruck by the queen. She’s so beautiful! Like a goddess of fertility with her long dark curly hair flowing over her bare shoulders in a navy blue sleeveless knit dress that hugs her rounded pregnant belly. She’s carrying a large white leather purse.
“So good to meet you, Alice!” she exclaims.
I snap to attention, bow my head, and curtsy. “Your Majesty.”
She stops in front of me, her brown eyes bright. “It’s just the two of us today. Please call me Anna. Gabriel had some business to attend to, and I didn’t want to delay our visit. Are you hungry? I’m starving.”
“Yes.” I follow her over to the seating area and take the chair across from her. It’s a firmly upholstered chair and it makes me sit a little straighter.
She pours the tea. So many things pop into my head—shouldn’t a servant be doing that? Should I do that? We match in navy blue! How is your pregnancy going? Nothing comes out of my mouth. I’m tongue-tied.
“Sugar?” she asks.
“Yes, please.” I’m thrilled that I can speak again and blurt, “Would you like me to serve you instead?”
She laughs as she uses silver tongs to drop a cube of light brown sugar into my tea. “I’m keeping it informal today. The servants and guards remain outside the parlor. We’re both young American women, so I thought we could just hang like I used to with my friends back home.” She gestures to the food. “Help yourself.”
So I do, taking a tiny sandwich with cucumbers and a shiny blueberry tart, all while marveling that the queen of Villroy wants to hang with me. I take a sip of tea and scramble for something informal, American, and friendly to say. Baseball? Apple pie? Fourth of July?
She leans forward, her brown eyes sparkling. “I have to confess I’m a fangirl.”
“Of what?”
“Of you! I readThe Duke’s DareandThe Viscount’s Victory.”
My lips form an O of surprise. The queen of Villroy read my stories? And then she shocks me even more by pulling the books out of her purse and handing me a pen. “Could you sign them?”
“Of course!” I take the pen and books from her and sign the inscription as though she’s just a regular reader and not royal. The first forThe Duke’s Dareis a cheerful “Anna, dare to go further than is polite!” and the second, “Victory awaits the bold!” I sign my name with a flourish at the bottom.
She takes the books and pen back, smiling as she reads the inscriptions before tucking everything carefully into her purse. “Thanks! When do we get William’s story? Are you writing it now?” That’s the third book in the trilogy. He’s a duke, a friend of the other two heroes.
“That was the plan.” I go straight for the blueberry tart, in need of a sugar high, and take a huge bite.
“Was?”
I chew and swallow. “I’m finding it difficult to get back to writing happy love stories after the Ordeal.”
She immediately catches on. “I give you a lot of credit for taking this trip solo. I’m sure you’ll be writing again in no time. You just need some inspiration, right?”
