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‘God, I could do with sunglasses,’ Kate murmured as they slipped into the ballroom through one of the side entrances. Between the chandeliers suspended from the high vaulted ceiling covered in frescoes and the jewellery the female guests were wearing it was a real bling fest. ‘I suddenly feel quite underdressed,’ she admitted, taking a glass of champagne from a passing waiter.
‘You look fabulous,’ the young man said with such sincerity that she might have been flattered if she hadn’t been able to see he was checking out the crowd for someone. She watched him with a smile for a moment, wondering if he’d been tasked to look after her, before taking pity on him.
‘I suppose we should mingle. See you later.’
He vanished so fast that she almost laughed. Instead, she exchanged her empty glass for a second one, which would usually be her last. She knew her limit but, seized by uncharacteristic recklessness, she found herself wishing that she were in a position to go over it...a long way... However, drunk in charge of a child would not look good on her résumé.
Kate was nursing the second glass when a hush of expectation fell over the room, the lights dimmed, all but the ones on the grand sweeping staircase as the orchestra began to play the national anthem.
The King and Queen appeared at the top of the stairs and began their ascent with suitably regal majesty, the Queen wearing a tiara that put any other jewel in the place in the shade. But it was the couple behind that Kate was watching as the camera bulbs flashed.
Her heart twisted in her chest as she watched Freya, in her pretty pink frothy dress, pick her way down the steps in her embroidered pink slippers, glancing up after every other step up for reassurance from the tall man who held her hand.
That Marco looked simply magnificent was a given. He made every man in the room look like a pale imitation, but it was the fact the world could see the pride on his face and the words of encouragement he was mouthing to Freya that brought tears to Kate’s eyes.
She wasn’t the only one who was moved, she suspected.
The photos would be guaranteed international front-page coverage.
If she’d seen the photos without having any insight, she might have viewed any photo spread with a degree of cynicism and she’d have been wrong. Wrong about how much else? she wondered.
She was in a position now to know that first impressions would be wrong. This was no PR stunt.
Instincts were not always right. There was sometimes a back story that changed the narrative. Had she even considered her parents’ narrative...?
She had not given her parents a chance to offer their viewpoint. She had made no effort to see things from where they had been standing. She’d been too hurt, too eager to condemn without question. Kate felt her grip on the high ground slip as the infectious germ of doubt took up residence in her head while the orchestra struck up the chords of a Strauss waltz. With her inside information Kate had known they would.
She had walked through the steps with Freya all week and the little girl had them nailed, so long as nerves didn’t get in the way.
Kate watched, willing Freya on as the couples circled the floor, the King and Queen giving a practised performance. But all eyes were on the little girl and her father.
As if he sensed her gaze across the room, Marco’s eyes found hers. Tension slid down her spine, the people, the music all seemed to fade and grew fuzzy until Kate’s entire world narrowed to his bold silver stare. She didn’t even register the music stopping. It was the applause from the guests around her that shook Kate free of the spell that gripped her.
Real or imagined, she was shaken by the effect of the silent communication across the room. She watched as Marco took Freya to stand with his parents and walked back to the raised dais where there was a microphone.
It was clear immediately that Marco was as adept at public speaking as he seemed to be at everything else. Of course, it helped that his deep vibrant voice could have made a grocery list sound interesting.
He had his audience from the first introduction line as he issued the anticipated congratulations to his parents on their special day and spoke of duty and the unity that was the strength of the country and its people.
The real news he couched as an afterthought wrapped inside his deep gratitude to the forward-thinking royal council for their wisdom in proposing a change to the outdated rule that gave males precedence over females, thus altering the royal line of succession in a way that made it fairer.
At least she wasn’t the only one who found his voice hypnotic, Kate thought as the room exploded into applause that was not polite but spontaneous. It lasted while Marco, after producing a charming smile of thanks, walked across to join the rest of his family.
Kate watched Freya, who was clapping non-stop as her father reached them. A smile tugged at her lips. It was amazing how the child’s confidence had grown in such a short space of time. She was as easy to love as her rather less huggable father was to... As her eyes drifted to the tall dynamic figure, Kate’s thoughts skittered to a halt. She sensed that if she allowed them to run free for another moment there was somethinglooming, an answer to a question she had not even asked herself yet.
The thought of the question panicked her so thoroughly that when a man who addressed his invitation to her cleavage, not her face, asked her to dance, she couldn’t think of a plausible reason to say no.
‘I have just been telling Freya that one day she will be Queen, but she is more interested in teaching your mother how to salsa...’ The King lowered his voice. ‘Is salsa an appropriate dance to be teaching a child of Freya’s age, Marco? This new nanny...is she working out, do you think?’
Marco opened his mouth and closed it again as he caught sight of the top of a red head on the dance floor, his eyes narrowing as he struggled to identify her partner. The tension in his features relaxing when he recognised a married courtier whose wife was rumoured to keep him on a short leash.
‘She is well qualified. I doubt if we could keep her even if we wanted to.’ And he wanted, he wanted Kate Armstrong. His mind knew it was a bad idea, but his body didn’t care, his body wanted Kate Armstrong, and he wanted to find the oblivion he craved deep in her warm body.
‘Oh, well, Freya seems...less tongue-tied at least, which is a good thing. And you must be pleased with yourself. There’s no backing out now, is there?’ the King observed with a chuckle. ‘I must say tonight is a great success, thanks in large part to Rosa... I always enjoy these occasions.’ He looked at his tall son curiously. ‘Unlike you?’
‘Does it show?’ Marco asked, flicking an invisible speck from his lapel as he watched Kate circle the floor.
‘Not at all. You’re very good at the diplomacy, you could always leave early...?’
