5. Chapter 5
Michaela
A lady’s maid.
Couldn’t claim I’d ever had one of those. Even when I was in pageants, I was required to do my own hair and makeup. I’d spent years perfecting the craft and so when Dahlia, my lady’s maid, started in with the blue eyeshadow, I was quick to dismiss her.
“Milady,” she frowned, “it will make your blue eyes brighter. It matches.”
“While I see your thinking...” I took a deep breath and fought through the jetlag that was erasing my internal filter. “I need to set down some rules. No blue eyeshadow for me. I’ll look like a Madonna video from the eighties.” I snatched the brush from her hand. “How about you work on my hair, and I’ll do my makeup?”
“Very well, milady.” She gave a quick curtsy and returned to the tools she’d left on the dresser. Meanwhile, wiped away the bright-blue swash of color she’d put all the way up to my eyebrows.
“Have you been doing this long, Dahlia?” I popped open my compact and went to work on my foundation. “Lady’s maid and all that?”
“You’re my first charge, milady.”
I took my blender out of my zip-up bag and started working. “Look, I get that there are appearances to keep up, but I’m really not comfortable with the milady stuff.” I caught her stare through the mirror. “Can you just call me Mick?”
“Oh, milady, I don’t think it’s proper to—“
“I don’t mean in front of anyone else.” I paused for it to sink in. “Just when it’s the two of us. For my sanity.”
Relief flooded her features, quickly followed by a fair amount of rebellion. “Yes… Mick.”
“Sweet. Thank you.”
We worked quietly for a moment, me blending and highlighting and Dahlia searching for something. I pulled out my favorite eyeshadow kit and looked up just in time to see Dahlia returning with a pair of silver scissors.
I swear, I never moved so fast in my life. I became an Olympic hurdler, clearing chairs, hurdling over luggage, anything to keep her away from my hair with those scissors.
“Whoa, there.” I raised my palm up like a stop sign. “What are you doing with those?”
Her eyes lit up. “I saw a picture in a fashion magazine. She had a pixie cut and I thought that would look cute tonight.”
The poor soul didn’t even register why I was freaking out. “Okay, but two things.” I gripped the ends of my shoulder-length brunette hair. “First, my hair is curly and pixie cuts don’t work with these locks, trust me, I’ve tried. Second,” I really didn’t think I needed another point, but it was worth saying, “when I said do my hair, I meant, maybe a pretty braid or an updo. Not lopping off eight inches. Because, third ,“ this last point felt self-explanatory but she hadn’t put the scissors down yet, “while hair grows, it doesn’t grow fast.”
She blinked twice like a processing glitch was causing a delay in her mainframe. “No haircut?”
“No haircut, Dahlia.” My breathing didn’t even out until she put the scissors on the dresser. “How about you pick a dress for me, and I’ll show you how I like to do my hair and makeup. Maybe tomorrow you can do something else. Deal?”
Her eyes twitched as if she didn’t know the expression, but a smile crossed her cheeks soon after. “Deal.”
The scissors clattered in the drawer as I shoved them into the depths. Dahlia’s squeals of delight over my wardrobe brought some happiness back to my world. I designed and sewed most of them, so it was nice hearing the appreciation. As she brought in dress after dress, positively gushing over them, I started to think about my situation.
Fitz didn’t have any say over the lady maid’s selection, but someone did. Was everyone assigned an inexperienced aide, or was that reserved for me? Was someone making sure I looked like an idiot?
And if they were, then why?
I had better dresses, but none that would fit the atmosphere. With drinks and chatting, a well-tailored cocktail dress served a better purpose than a gown .
“No one else has been assigned a room,” Dahlia whispered as we walked to the parlor where I would meet the others and eventually Fitz. “You must be special to the prince.”
It would have been easy enough to explain our prior relationship, but something about the way Fitz hustled me out of his room had me hesitant to say anything. “Or maybe they knew I was far from home and couldn’t leave right away if I’m dismissed.”
Dahlia nodded eagerly. “Or maybe, they don’t want you near the others because you’re American.”
She supplied that idea without much work. It left me wondering if my earlier concerns had some merit.
“Fun game, Dahlia,” I said with no lack of sarcasm. As usual, she missed it entirely.
“Thank you. I’ll try to think of another one for later.” She pulled back the door and effectively melted into the shadows. Once more, my view left me breathless. When he said parlor, I thought a small room with a piano and maybe a bookcase. But this, this was more like… I didn’t even have words.
Artwork adorned every wall. Gold leaf highlights caught the low candles and gentle illumination of the crystal chandeliers. Yes, plural, as in three, that hung from the towering ceilings. A fireplace roared with ample heat for the entire room, the mouth of it as tall as a grown man. Everywhere I looked, lavish decadence spoke to artistic craftmanship I’d never seen firsthand, not to this level. And throughout the room, women dressed in their finest watched me like I was enemy number one.
I understood why Fitz might be reluctant to disclose our past. There was one difference between me and the rest of them that couldn’t be ignored. They were all here to fall in love and marry the prince. If I looked like I had a leg up on them, I’d have a target on my head. That would make it harder for me to learn the truth for him. But it wasn’t the first time I’d walked into a room full of competitors hoping I’d trip and fall on my face. I knew how to be congenial in the face of nastiness. I spotted Gwendolyn and Fallon near the window, but instinct told me it wasn’t a smart move. The nobles clearly stood on the other side of the room, Lilith, Esmerey, and four others who regarded the rest of the room as though they were trash. They’d even donned tiaras to be sure none of us forgot how much better they were. In the corner, nearly concealed by the shadows, I spotted my only chance for allies.
Blair, Dagny, and three others looked like they wanted to vanish instead of stay in the room. Well, not Dagny. Just as earlier, she looked ready to climb the walls with excitement.
“Do you think these are thirteenth century tapestries? Or fifteenth?” She spoke to anyone who would listen as I approached the group. “It’s easy to tell. Thirteenth taste a little different. More ash, less tallow. Want me to show you?” She had one of the tassels in her mouth before Blair pulled it out.
“Dagny, you can’t chew on the wall hangings like a puppy.” She smoothed the tassel back down and turned back to find me within speaking distance. “Are you lost?”
At first, I thought she was attacking me and my defenses went on high alert, but no, on second thought, I realized it was an actual question.
“No, I don’t think so.” I looked around the parlor. “This is where we’re supposed to meet Fi—“ I caught myself, “Prince Fitzborough, right?”
A couple of them exchanged glances, but it was the one on the end who wore a simple blue cotton dress with a silver sash who answered. “Blair meant, do you really mean to be over here with us ?”
I frowned. “Should I not?”
Blair shrugged. “Most people who look and dress like you might do better… elsewhere.”
I wasn’t sure how to respond, so I went for diplomacy. Sticking my hand out, I said, “I’m Michaela. I’m from America. I have no friends here and you appear to be throwing the least amount of eye daggers in my direction.”
Blair’s mouth twitched with an amused smile before she shook my hand with a confident grip. “Blair, and this precocious creature is Dagny.” She motioned to her and then turned to the other side. “This is Eirene, and next to her are Carline and Sadie.”
I nodded to each of them in turn. “Great to meet you all. May I ask why you’re acting like social pariahs?”
“She’s blunt,” Dagny whispered. I got the feeling she didn’t realize she said it out loud because she looked around like her own voice had startled her.
Blair ignored Dagny and answered my question. “We are social pariahs. We’re the token fillers. We look good to the outside world but won’t make it very far. I’m the chauffeur’s daughter. Carline’s father is the royal baker. Sadie won a raffle.“ She sighed and shook her head. “Tell her why you’re here, Eirene.”
The mousy wisp of a girl sucked both of her lips into her mouth and stared with wide eyes. After a moment, she must have realized no one was going to rescue her because she spoke. “The queen’s puppy was in the road. It was going to be hit so I ran over and saved it. She offered me a spot in gratitude.”
“Sprained her wrist doing it, too. The queen could have given her money or medical attention, but no, how about a shot at her son?” Blair scoffed. “I grew up at this palace. It’s the same story every time. Throw some goodwill everyone’s way and see if it’ll quiet them. That’s all this is anyway, a publicity stunt. The next queen has been chosen.”
Eirene shook her head. “I disagree.” She considered leaving it at that but found some bravery and kept going. “Everyone thinks he’s destined to marry the queen’s choice or even Lady Esmerey, but he’s just as likely to marry Lady Lilith.”
My eyes flitted to Gwendolyn and Fallon where they gossiped against the wall. “Not either of those two?” The rest of the group followed my gaze and Blair tipped her head as if to think about it.
“Not Lilith,” Eirene piped up. “With a face like that, they’d have to burn the royal portrait.”
Blair covered her mouth to hide her laughter, but Sadie quickly elbowed Eirene. “That’s not kind.”
Eirene’s mouth turned downward, a new bravery in place as she shared her inside information. “Her father was the duke charged with our town’s care. He’s content to make sure she has the best of everything while the rest of us fight tooth and nail to get what we need. I figure her unfortunate face is the result of karma.”
I didn’t think she looked that bad. Lilith wasn’t nearly as pretty as Gwendolyn, but I didn’t cringe when looking at her. Her features weren’t ugly, just… sharp. Maybe if I knew her better, I would see what the others were seeing.
“And Gwen,” Blair shrugged, “she’s nicer than the rest of them, but I’ve never seen anything from Leo’s side that shows he might be interested. Have you, Carline?”
The baker’s daughter shook her head. “Not from his side, but Gwen always looks ready to claw some eyes out when any female gets close to him. I think,” she gasped and lost her train of thought. “Dagny, no tassels. We talked about this.” She rushed forward and pulled the tapestry tassel out of Dagny’s mouth. “They are definitely thirteenth century. You proved your point.”
“I just think they taste better because of the tallow.” Dagny noticed me for the first time. “How rude of me. I didn’t offer you a taste.”
“Uh, no I’m… full.” I’d turned down my share of weird food, but it was the first time having to say no to licking a tapestry.
“You know what I think?” Blair hardly skipped a beat over Dagny’s odd behavior. “This whole ordeal is nothing more than a—“
The large double doors parted with a rush of wind. Guards entered first, in full attire, with Reginald hot on their heels. “Announcing his Royal Highness, Prince Leonidas Ignatius Fitzborough III, Crown Prince of Nolcovia.”
Now that was how you made an entrance. I kicked myself internally for not recording it for reference for princess parties. We could make way more in tips if we… my thoughts trailed off as all the women rushed forward like the defensive line getting ready for the next play. Me, always the weirdo outsider, stumbled in-between Blair and Dagny.
“What are we—“ My words cut off as the entire line of ladies bent into a low curtsy. It was better than the wave at Fenway Park. Absolute precision, one after the next, to show their devotion to the crown.
And then.
Me.
Fitz entered within seconds. His gaze landed on me, and I swear, my body went into autopilot. Down like a fallen tree, my knee bent, and I dropped into a full curtsy. Face turned toward the ground, I focused on my shoes as I tried to understand the phenomenon. I had not consciously made the decision.
Was there something in my genetic code? Did he press the genome trigger that immediately recognized his regal stature? My family was originally from Britain. Maybe that side of me recognized a crown better than I thought. And if so, where was the American rebellion within me that refused to be conquered, because something about him had me wanting to sing “God Save the King.” Or at least the drop-dead gorgeous prince who was headed toward us.
My brain went blank. What came after the curtsy? Fitz gave me multiple scenarios, but I wasn’t sure which one I’d landed in. Thankfully, no one moved, so I took it as a clue to stay put as well. Fitz had an aura about him, something I never would have predicted from the boy I knew. All-encompassing and demanding, a presence that could not be ignored. It was hard to believe this was the same guy I’d spent a good part of the afternoon goofing off with, teasing each other and throwing pillows.
No, this guy , he was the future king and there was no denying it. I felt it all the way to my bones.
The deep rumble of his voice murmured three women down from me. Then I heard him speak to Dagny beside me.
“Dagny, arise.” She stood and he caught her hand. “How are you this evening, Dagny? I trust you’re having fun?”
“Yes, Your Highness.” Out of the corner of my eye I watched her knees bend slightly in a smaller curtsy. “The tapestries have been delicious.”
If he reacted, I didn’t hear it. Granted, if she was an old family friend, perhaps he was used to her behavior. For some reason, knowing he was coming to me next had me holding my breath. That was stupid. This was Fitz. We used to sleep out on the trampoline in the summer and we’d make up new constellations. We dared each other to make prank calls. He loved tree frogs and cheese puffs. There was no reason to feel any differently just because he was acting as the prince.
“Michaela Caldwell, arise.” His voice cascaded over me. I tipped my head up and locked eyes with him. I’d heard about men in uniforms being irresistible, but what about a guy in a crown? Because it was doing things to me that I hadn’t expected. His fingers wrapped around mine and he lifted my hand to his lips. Good gracious. I was about to giggle and pass out. If Dagny asked me to lick a tapestry, I felt lightheaded enough to try. I watched his mouth touch my knuckles and when I thought he would release my hand, he kept it.
“I trust your travels went well?”
“Um, yes… Prince… Leonidas. Um, Your Royal Highness, sir.”
Oh my gosh. Did I forget how to make words? What was wrong with me? I’d once answered interview questions in front of an audience of two thousand people while my gown had a slow-moving rip that was threatening to undress me. And even then I didn’t get rattled. But put a crown on a guy and I was completely undone? My only hope was that Fitz had missed my flustered state.
No such luck.
His mouth threatened to break into a smug grin at any second and his left eyebrow twitched twice like a challenge to see who would break first. I’m sure he saw this whole escapade as retribution over all the years I hadn’t believed him about his real title in life.
“I’m glad to hear that.” He turned to Blair beside me without releasing my hand. “Blair, rise up.” He waited for her to follow the command. Smiling, he tilted his head toward me. “Keep an eye on her, would you? I trust you’ll play nice?”
As if it was an inside joke, she fought back a smile. “As you wish, Your Highness.”
Fitz released his grip on my hand and went on to meet Eirene and then beyond.
Tension clenched the air between me and the chauffeur’s daughter. She’d sensed it. Something was different in the way he talked to me. But, in my opinion, he’d acted differently than I’d ever known him to act. Still, I felt her need to demand answers. Blair waited just long enough that her terse whisper wouldn’t be heard. “What, pray tell, was that?”
I didn’t have an answer. I was possibly more confused than she was. “I honestly don’t know.”
A fluke. That’s all it was. The way my stomach flipped, the rush in my veins, it was all a reaction to my first real prince sighting and the starstruck nature that went with it.
It had to be. The last thing I needed was to see Fitz as anyone other than my friend.