My eyes widened at her crudeness and she giggled, noticing my reaction. But finally I sat down cautiously in my office chair, wondering why on earth she had come to see me. Of all people.
“So, what did my brother do to make you react so vehemently when I came in? I presume that was supposed to be directed at him? No doubt he deserved it of course, knowing him.”
“Oh, that. Nothing important.”
“You can tell me… I’m great at keeping secrets.”
I met her turquoise eyes—they had more green in them than blue—but they still reminded me of William’s; mischievous but trustworthy. Even so, I wasn’t going to spill the beans about him kissing me and my feelings towards him to his sister. That would definitely not be proper. But I also had an inclination that she wasn’t going to be satisfied with a brushing off.
“Testing my patience is all,” I settled on.
“I know how that is,” she agreed with an understanding smile. “You’re right not to let him get away with it. He needs a firm hand; don’t let him walk all over you.”
My head bobbed, deciding to keep my mouth shut. Discussing him, gossiping practically, didn’t seem right even if Princess Charlotte was giving off friendly vibes.
The princess continued to sip on her tea occasionally glancing about the room. I didn’t dare touch mine for fear of sloshing it all over myself like a fool. In a way she was more of a celebrity than William or any other of the royals. A fashion icon of sorts. Or maybe it was just a different sort of notoriety that she possessed that had me more unnerved than usual.
I’d hope she would volunteer why she was there but when the comfortable silence prolonged itself, I shuffled in my chair and dared to look at her.
“Your Highness—” She gave me a warning look but there was a smile that went alongside it and I corrected myself. “Charlotte, I mean. If you don’t mind me asking, why have you come to see me?”
“Of course, how silly of me. Sorry, I would forget my head if it wasn’t screwed on. Anyone would think I was the blonde of the family and not little Vicky. Here I am taking up your precious time and not coming to the point. Sophie, I’m in need of your help.”
“My help?” That was the last thing I’d expected. Whatever could she need me for? Princess Charlotte was renowned for having a whole entourage of ladies in waiting to do anything she asked of them.
“Yes. I’m in a bit of a pickle and need a second opinion. I’m on a time limit. I have to decide in the next few hours what gown I’m going to wear to the upcoming ball and I’m having a devil of a time choosing.”
“You don’t want me then. I’m not a stylist,” I said, looking down at my still very inadequate outfit, as if that was all the proof she needed that I was way under qualified to give any sort of opinion on fashion. Despite Will’s request for me to spruce my wardrobe up I just hadn’t had the time—or mental energy—to go shopping. I didn’t even know where to begin, if I was being honest with myself.
“Nonsense. You know exactly what’s expected at these events. Everyone keeps telling me I should make a statement and wear something daring, but I feel that might not be quite right. Besides you have eyes, don’t you? And a sensible head on your shoulders.”
A fleeting frown crossed my brow. “But surely your own people would know better than me—”
“Not likely. They just tell me what I want to hear, not what I need to hear. So will you do it? We don’t have much time. The designers are waiting, and need to take whatever I don’t choose away for a shoot tonight.”
“I… let me just check my schedule,” I said, stalling for time. My afternoon was pretty much free except for busy work that I could relegate to the morning. William was already set for the rest of the day—if he stuck to the obligations, of course—and I didn’t expect him back anytime soon.
“We can also choose a dress for you, as a little birdie told me you were invited as a guest to the event.”
I tore my eyes away from my computer screen to look at Charlotte, the penny dropping. “Prince William put you up to this, didn’t he?” I said a little more darkly than I would’ve liked had I’d been able to rein in my irritation.
“No…”
“Charlotte,” I said in disbelief.
The princess sighed and took the last mouthful of tea. “Ok, you caught me. He did mention something about you wanting to get a new wardrobe—and I can totally help you with that, though you are rocking that vintage look—but it was all my idea to ask you to help me with choosing a ball gown. I really do need an extra set of eyes, I wasn’t fibbing about that.”
Conflicted, I let the seconds tick by without responding. I know it was rude of me but I needed to get my thoughts in order. On one hand I believed Charlotte was telling the truth when she said she needed my help, but on the other I wasn’t entirely happy with William forcing my hand.
“Wait, did he actually say something to you about your clothes?”
I pursed my lips and nodded.
“That insensitive bastard. Excuse my French,” she said, shaking her head and surprising me by taking my hand. “Don’t you listen to him. He teased me for years for my tastes in clothes and fashion, you just have to ignore it. Don’t let anyone tell you your style is wrong. It isn’t. How can it be? It’s your style. What would he know anyway? He prefers t-shirts and those God awful cargo pants. I don’t know why they need all those pockets.”
I got what she was saying but said, “No, I think he meant well. Or maybe I’m giving him too much credit. But anyway, he’s partially right, I do need to update my wardrobe… I barely spend any time on myself and that needs to be addressed. Half of my stuff, I don’t actually know where I got them from or they are things my mum gave me. This isn’t really my style at all. I don’t even think I have one to be honest, I throw stuff on and hope for the best.”
“Well, in that case then I can definitely help you find your look, don’t you even worry. As long as you help me with a choosing a dress.”
A small grateful smile played on my lips and she gave my hands a reassuring squeeze.
“Ok, you have a deal.”
Before I knew it we were almost skipping down the corridors then up the winding back staircase towards Charlotte’s rooms in the palace. She practically had a whole wing to herself and when we entered what she called her dressing room I understood the reason why she needed the space.
There were dresses, shoes, handbags, coats, belts, countless accessories, all neat and tidy in their proper places on shelves, racks, or nestled in see-through drawers, as far as the eye could see. The room must’ve been a main parlour in a previous life, several in fact, if my eyes weren’t deceiving me, because through a wide arch lay even more fashion related items.
I tried to keep my mouth closed but I was amazed by the amount there was.
“Wonderful isn’t it? It’s like Narnia but for all things beauty related.”
I barely heard what she said and was drawn like a moth to a flame toward the rack of dresses in the middle of the room. One in particular.
“I think I’m in love,” I said under my breath, reaching out to touch the magical fabric, all the while thinking of Will, and what his reaction might be should he see me in anything as extraordinary as this.
Charlotte was by my side, watching me and grinning. “Just wait till you try it on.”
A few days later
I stood like the proverbial, but unsuccessful, wallflower on the edge of the ballroom attempting to look anywhere but the dance floor or anyone directly in the eye. I was not supposed to be among these people, and especially not in this dress. An unremarkable pantsuit would’ve suited me fine, the sensible option. Easier to disappear, to be dismissed as just one of the help that way. And yet I’d let Charlotte convince me that the dress I’d been drawn to was meant for me. I did have to admit it called to me, soothed my soul, and then when I tried it on, I never wanted to take it off.
But now I was amongst other people, the gown seeme
d too much. I felt out of place. The white full tulle skirt with its gold lace trim was dazzling, too bright. And the bodice, even though it was modest with its three-quarter length sleeves and high neck, still screamed look at me since it was made with a gold fabric that took on the appearance of glitter. So I did what I did best and stuck to the side-lines, hands clasped tight in front of me.
The ballroom was packed full, so many toffs in one place that I was beginning to feel like I was trapped inside a sardine can with no way out. Heads of state, dignitaries, and even lesser known royals who clung to their aging superfluous titles had all made an appearance. The first ball of the season after Frederick’s passing.
There were also a smattering of British actors—some newly knighted—as well as a couple of stars from across the pond that were effectively royalty in their own right. The upper crust of London society were mixed in here and there too, but no one really paid them any attention.
For the most part attending balls like this was now routine. When I had first started attending these events as the newly minted secretary to Frederick, I’d been star struck at all the beautiful people, the expensive cuts of their evening attire and even the king and queen mingling amongst their guests.
But over time, after attending so many of the parties, I’d gotten over my nervousness. That was of course until I’d been shunted into the unknown role of guest. I didn’t know what to do with myself. It was like I’d forgotten how to stand, or feel at home in my own body. Paranoia set in. And I was sure people were staring, wondering who the hell I was, or if they did recognise me why on earth I was in the most fanciest ball gown I’d ever owned in my entire life. Charlotte had insisted I keep it.
As if that wasn’t worse enough, a second set of nerves, a double-whammy, kicked in when I spotted Prince William across the room in his tux.
His lips upon mine, his fingers where they shouldn’t be, replayed in my head and I quickly looked away thinking I’d stared for far too long. It wouldn’t do me any good to get caught gawking at the man; it was like looking at the sun or a celestial event; you know you shouldn’t, you know you should stop, but you just can’t help yourself. Damn the consequences. Let me go blind with love…
But regardless, I didn’t have to look at him; the mere thought of him made me weak in the knees. Which wasn’t exactly safe due to my new four-inch heels that I still wasn’t used to.
From my vantage point he tackled the ballroom with ruthless efficiency, a predator stalking his prey. He greeted everyone he passed, spending a moment or two with them and giving them his full, undivided attention. Making them feel special.
It suddenly dawned on me how far he’d actually come as I watched him. A few weeks ago I could never have imagined him being this proactive, this regal. This comfortable in this environment. And the more I studied him with each of the guests the more I thought he was enjoying it. Perhaps he was finally coming to terms with his role.
William approached a statuesque blonde in a strapless royal blue ball gown with silver trim. His grin was twice as wide as it had been when greeting the other guests, and jealousy reared its ugly head as I watched space between them dwindle to nothing.
I knew who she was right away. Princess Annabelle, the daughter of the reigning monarch of Monaco, Prince Lucien. Her name suited her; pure and full of innocence. She even managed to glide across the floor while mingling, all floaty and delicate. A wisp riding the winds. She bashfully tilted her head towards the floor while fluttering her eyes at William. No doubt a move she’d either practised in a mirror or had been taught; at a Princess training school perhaps.
The royal family had had amicable relations with Monaco for years. There was also a rumour that Frederick and Annabelle were betrothed to each other, but obviously that never came about, and he’d never mentioned it to me. Maybe it was now William’s turn…
I gritted my teeth as I watched the couple converse with easy smiles on their faces. To anyone else, it would make perfect sense for the future king of England and her to talk, and to even fall in love… possibly start working on a match that would suit both powerful dynasties. She was a classic beauty and from what I knew, wicked smart too, an ideal wife for William who’d also make a perfect future queen of England.
I wanted to throw up.
Others around the room stole glances at the Prince and Princess, trying to hide smiles behind their satin gloved hands. They were all thinking it; they were perfect together. Perfect, perfect, perfect! I wanted to spit the word out, rip it to shreds and stomp on it.
Though I did concede it was about damn time England had something to celebrate… a royal wedding would be just what everyone needed.
King Henry and Queen Beatrice made no effort to hide their interest in the couple. They stared openly and it was obvious that they approved of the match. Idly I wondered what Will had said if and when they’d approached him about the match. I would’ve hoped he’d told them to go stuff it, or something along those lines. But by the look on his face, if they had broached the subject of Princess Annabelle and a possible engagement, he didn’t see to mind one iota.
My newly manicured fingernails dug into my palms as I thought about him plotting his move on the Princess all the while playing with my heart… I didn’t want to think that he was this duplicitous, but in my bones, I knew I was merely a passing phase, meaning nothing to him. Just another risk he wanted to take.
“Wow. Who pissed you off? But holy crap you look stunning!”
I looked over to see Brittany standing next to me, adhering to the strict dress code for the staff with a mid-length black number which grazed the tops of her knees. It also had a square, almost regimented neckline, which not even I could get excited about.
“Thanks, it feels a little tight.”
She waved a wand and laughed, “Who needs to breathe when you look like that?”
I gave her a weak smile and turned my attention back to the glittering couple. I couldn’t help myself; it was like being unable to look away after an explosion, except this was a fire of a different kind in the making.
“Well?”
“No one…”
Brittany laughed. “Ok, you could attempt to at least say it with some conviction. Cause lady, I don’t believe you. Let’s see, I bet you a month’s wages that it has to do with the hottest guy here tonight.”
I turned toward her. “What?”
She shook her head. “Come on, Sophie. It’s written all over your face. Plus you haven’t taken your eyes off of him since he waltzed in here, commanding the room. You have the hots for Prince William.”
“Shh!” I said, placing a finger to my lips and looking around to ensure that no one else had heard the statement. “You shouldn’t say things like that. Do you want to get me fired?”
“What? The truth?” Brittany countered, giving me a look. “Sophie, it’s not a bad thing to have a crush on him. I mean, I have a crush on him and he hasn’t even glanced my way. He’s the epitome of a storybook prince. Well except he’s all rough and rugged in all the right places, if you know what I mean.”
“Oh my God, Britt, shut up. Someone will hear you and we’ll both be for the chopping block.”
“You worry too much. Half the female staff lust after him, not to mention the male staff. One more crush won’t make a difference.”
I fumed, hating that I was so transparent. My feelings for William right there for everyone to see. It was all his damn fault. I told him I had a firm line then he had to go and cross it. I didn’t want to feel for him, really, but it was so hard not to. God, it was such a bad idea to come tonight. But you don’t exactly say no to King Henry. He saw this as a way to reward me for my years of service, my work and dedication to Frederick, and under any other circumstances I would’ve been honoured. But this was just torture.
“Oh no,” Brittany said a moment later. “This is far from a little crush, isn’t it?”
I shook my head quickly, perhaps too quickly. “Of cours
e not! I could never, I mean… he is my boss.”
Brittany clucked her tongue. “Girl, you keep lying to yourself and maybe one day you will believe it.” She then leaned over, her lips right above my ear. “Would it be so bad, shagging a royal? Break the tradition, steal his heart. I’m behind you one hundred percent.”
“You definitely want me to get fired don’t you? After my job, are you?”
“Well, if you won’t…” she said trailing off, her grin wicked and her eyes sparkling with mischief.
“I thought you had the hots for Mark?”
“You can like more than one person at once you know. Besides he’s always buggering off abroad. Mind, it looks like the prince is off the table now. Look,” Brittany said as she clamped a hand down on my arm, excitement in her voice.
I was already looking; she didn’t need to bring my attention to the display going on across the way. Guests stepped back making room as William led Annabelle to the middle of the dance floor, centre stage for everyone to see. Curtains closing on my own foolish dreams.
His hand rested on her lower back and as she leaned over to whisper something in his ear which caused that quick grin to appear, the one that turned my insides into jelly.
“Awww, don’t they look good together?”
“I guess,” I replied, my heart sinking to new depths that I didn’t realise were possible. There was a thick lump in my throat too that felt like it would persist forever.
“They’ll make beautiful babies,” she continued.
No, this was not going to work at all. I shouldn’t be feeling this way, wanting to rip every blonde piece of hair from her head for touching him, making him smile… making him happy. He was dancing with someone that was his equal, that was clear to see, someone that the king and queen would agree on without hesitation.
I sighed. I couldn’t get in the way of that. Not that I even had a chance, I thought scornfully.
The waltz seemed to last forever as I watched them twirl about effortlessly on the dance floor. Contestants on Strictly Come Dancing had nothing on them. He led, she followed. Like it was meant to be. Had it been me, he would already have about ten broken toes right about now.
Royal Master Page 15
