Oh, my God, it was quarter to five.
“Amy?” Leo strode into the bedroom and seemed surprised to find me under the satin quilt. “You’re in here!”
“Yes, I was having a nap. I lost track of time.” I sat up, but my fuzzy brain was clinging to snooze mode.
He made an effort not to look stressed, but failed. “The stylist’s been waiting outside for nearly an hour. We’ve been searching everywhere for you—the rehearsal’s nearly done. Come on, if we hurry, we can probably still catch everyone in the hall.”
I had a metallic taste in my mouth, the taste of sheer panic. I hunted for my shoes and tried to straighten my creased clothes. “But I’ve been here since three. Why didn’t anyone knock?”
Leo was frowning. “I don’t know. Look, it doesn’t matter, here’s your folder, come on.”
I followed him down the corridor at a trot, and we practically ran down the sweeping staircase to the main hall. The palace had been closed to visitors all day, and already the massive banks of white flowers and long red carpets were in place for the evening’s entertainment. I had to swerve past caterers and lighting equipment and maids carrying trays of glasses; my coordination wasn’t great at the best of times, but when I was half-awake it bordered on dangerous.
“It’s okay, I’ve found her!” Leo announced as we burst through the doors of the banqueting hall, making the crowd of people around the top table stop what they were doing.
I came to a shuddering halt behind him. The hall was like something from a film. The gilt-touched walls were hung with flags between the painted sections depicting bright angels and soldiers and dancing girls, stretching up toward the vaulted ceiling. Long tables covered with white cloths and shining glasses ran the length of the room, with a raised platform at one end where the top table stood beneath an intricate medieval tapestry.
I’d been shown round the room on previous visits, but not when it was dressed for a state occasion like this. The gilded majesty of the architecture and decoration knocked the breath out of me—as, I guessed, it had originally been intended to. I was silent with awe. I felt like a tourist at Buckingham Palace, except I was being allowed behind the velvet rope. More than that, I was being invited to sit at that top table.
I felt a bit faint.
“Ah, Amy, we thought you’d run off again!” Boris got up from his seat at the top table. He was wearing—I’m not joking—a plastic replica of a crown.
“We’ve been looking for you,” said Liza pointedly. Her hair was already in rollers but was wrapped in a glamorous silk scarf. “We’re running very late now.”
I started to explain and apologize, but she clapped her hands together to get the attention of everyone in the room. Now that I looked, there really were a lot of people there. My nerves jangled and I tried to calm myself with deep breaths, as Jo had coached me.
They didn’t work.
“Amy, we need to get your level for the speech.” She pointed to a microphone placed on the top table. “This is what will happen.”
She nodded toward Nina, bearing a clipboard and headphones, who dutifully recited, “Fanfare from royal trumpeters. Their Serene Highnesses the Prince Boris and Princess Eliza will enter the hall from the east door.” Air-steward gesture to hidden door. “The rest of the royal party, see notes, will enter from the west door.” Another gesture. “Trumpets to stop. Miss Amelia Wilde to stand and give the formal grace from her position at seat ten at the top table.”
She pointed to my empty space.
“What? Do you want me to do it now?” I asked stupidly.
“Yes, please,” said Liza.
Leo squeezed my arm, and I set off self-consciously toward the raised platform with my folder. I went up the steps, trying to keep my head up, sat down at the place indicated, and then got up again. The microphone made a loud scrapy noise, and someone rushed forward to adjust it.
The tables looked very long from up here. How many place settings? Two hundred? Three hundred?
My knees wobbled; I blinked hard and told myself I could do this. I’d practiced. It was only four sentences and I knew them by heart.
Someone coughed impatiently.
“Wir danken Dir,” I began, “O Christus, unser Gott, das Du …”
A sharp intake of breath ran around the hall, and the sea of faces beneath me looked horrified.
The words died in my mouth. Had I pronounced it wrong? Had I just told them their aunts were fat, or worse? I looked at Leo, but even his expression was a mixture of surprise and dismay.
“What?” I squeaked. “What have I done?”
Boris removed the plastic crown from his head with a sigh and looked at me. “Oh dear,” he said. “You’ve just brought two hundred years’ bad luck on the whole family.”
Twenty-nine
In the commotion that ensued after my mortifying faux pas, I clung desperately to the one silver lining available: at least this was only happening in front of forty or so really important people, and not the four hundred and seventy-three (it turned out) who would be there that night.
“Ignore Dad,” Leo said urgently when I stumbled off the platform. “It’s not bad luck, it’s just a silly tradition. We don’t speak German in the palace—it’s a rule our ancestors set to make themselves fit in with the Italian families.”
“I didn’t know!” I wailed. I wanted a trapdoor to open beneath me. I’d been doing guttural German flourishes and everything! “This was what I was sent to learn, I swear.”
“The grace is in Latin!” Liza had stormed over with Nina and Giselle in her wake. “It’s always in Latin, who on earth does grace in German?”
“If that’s what Amy was sent, then clearly someone’s made an error.” Leo’s expression was steely. “Nina, can we get Amy the right version to prepare?”
I turned to him, all my confidence gone. My face felt ashen; I had no idea what it looked like. “Maybe you should read it. Or Sofia should.”
“No,” said Leo. “That’s probably exactly what Sofia wants. She sent you the documents, didn’t she?”
“They would have come from the central palace office.” Liza glared at him. “We can check with Nina. But I imagine that Sofia only forwarded what she was sent herself. She’s been working flat-out on this Agnetto estate case, Leo. I hardly think she has time to devote to ridiculous schemes to upset people. It’s just one of those things. Amy reading the grace is in the official order, and there’s plenty of time left to prepare.”
There was not. There was just over an hour. And I’d be in makeup for most of that!
“Amy, do you still want to do it?” Leo looked at me, his eyes filled with concern.
I took a deep breath. Deep down, I wanted him to say he’d do it—but if I said no, I’d look hopeless. I heard Dad’s voice in my head: Don’t run away from problems, Amy.
And I thought of Pavlos. You could be removed at a stroke round here for not quite coming up to the mark. Could they do that to me?
I shook myself. Don’t be stupid.
But they had. They’d sacked Pavlos’s entire family.
I nodded, and the pride on Leo’s face touched me.
“Nina!” roared Liza. “Nina, can we get this grace?”
Nina scurried off as Liza checked her watch.
“What about the shoe?” I asked in a small voice. “Do we need to rehearse that?”
“We should, but we’re out of time. A page will pass you the shoe on a cushion—just bring it to me, I’ll put it on, and we’ll take it from there.” And with that, Liza steamed away, checking the clipboard Giselle was holding out to her. Her head bounced up as if her radar had gone off. “Is that photographer accredited?”
Every head spun to see a burly photographer in the back of the hall, snapping away. Giselle started to march over, but he raised his paw and waved at us.
“Mick Morris, freelance for the Mail?”
“He’s accredited,” growled Liza. “Giselle, just go and check what he’s
got. I said they could have all-access, but I didn’t specify picture control.”
So some outsider had been watching my embarrassing performance? I didn’t think my heart could sink any further at that point, but it did.
Leo saw my shoulders slump and put his arm around me. “It’ll be fine,” he whispered, then in a louder voice added, “Come on, we need to get you to the stylist. Nina, please have the right grace sent to our room as soon as possible.”
And he swept me away. I was pretty sure that as soon as we passed through the massive stone arch, the whispering began.
*
I didn’t speak as Leo led me down the frescoed corridors and out into the main hall again. My brain was too busy replaying the horror on everyone’s faces. I wished we could go and sit in the gardens, now illuminated with flaming torches and hidden spotlights, just to get my pulse rate down, but there was no time. The evening was sweeping us along like a ruthless conveyor belt.
Back in our rooms, my ballgown was hanging ready on a stand, and the hairstylist was impatiently lining up rollers along the marble sideboard while the makeup artist chatted on her phone in Japanese. They both stopped when they saw Leo and visibly swooned.
“I’ll leave you in the hands of these capable ladies,” he said, kissing my forehead. “Call me when you’re ready and I’ll bring the jewelry along.”
The stylist and the makeup girl immediately started working on me, as if I were a car in Kwik-Fit having a speed service. Hair washed, rollers in, face cleaned and primed and undercoated, nails wiped and polished … Their hands moved at lightning pace.
At some point, Nina appeared with a piece of paper with the grace on it—and it was in Latin. I hadn’t done Latin at school, though it wasn’t completely unfamiliar, thanks to all the plant names I’d learned off by heart. I started to mouth the words to myself, but it was no use, my nerves were shot to bits, and they blurred into meaningless clumps of letters.
It felt weird, letting these two strangers touch me without even talking, so I asked halting questions about what products they were using, to distract myself from the panic festering inside me; and by the time my hair was set, we were on friendly enough terms for them to help me on with my silvery ballgown.
I needed an extra pair of hands to handle the corsetry inside, but once I was winched into it, my bosom teetering at the very edge of the bodice like a perfect cappuccino, the transformation was nearly complete. The stylist pinned up my hair, then sprayed it with a whole can of Elnett; the makeup artist gave me a lipstick; and as they left I called Leo, and held my breath.
The expression on his face when he walked in made everything else stop. His eyes widened, then softened, and a slow, delighted smile spread across his handsome face, as if I were the most wonderful thing he’d ever seen.
He put down the jewel cases he was carrying on the sideboard and walked around me, saying nothing but letting the smile widen until his whole face was wreathed in a blissful sort of glow.
“You know,” he said, touching my powdered chin with his finger, “I almost don’t want to put any of these diamonds on you, because they couldn’t make you look more beautiful than you already do. You’re like the most beautiful daisy, all fresh and golden. Perfect.”
I smiled back. He looked pretty stunning too in his white tie and tails, with glass-shined shoes and diamond studs.
“Oh, go on. I need to give them all something to look at while I mess up the grace.”
Leo looked serious for a moment. “I can do that, you know. I want you to enjoy tonight, not feel like it’s a big test.”
“It’s fine.” It’s nothing, after all, compared with the number of people who’ll watch us get married. I pushed the thought away. “Just tell me how to pronounce the words.”
“I will. But first, jewels. I brought you my favorites—this is the set that my grandmother wore when she hosted the ball for Granddad’s coronation in 1964. Even Liz Taylor was blown away by these.” He picked up the first box and opened it with a snap to reveal a glittering drop diamond necklace on a bed of blue velvet.
Blimey.
Slowly, he leaned forward and fastened it around my neck, brushing his nose against my ear as he secured the white-gold clasp. The setting was cold against my warm skin, and the big pendant diamond settled between the pillowy mounds of my bosom in a rather sensual, Nell Gwyn-ish fashion. My pulse raced at Leo’s touch, and the constraints of the corset made my breath feel like a caress in itself.
Leo stepped back to assess the result, smiled to himself, then unclipped another box.
I wanted to tell him to hurry up—not because we were late, but because I wanted to feel the unhurried brush of his fingers again. But I bit my lip and trembled in silence.
He removed two diamond earrings from their velvet bed and hooked one, then the other, into my earlobes until they hung, just heavy enough for me to feel their weight. Leo had to lean in very close to find the pierced hole, and his crisp white dress shirt rasped against my pushed-up bosom, already tingling with sensation from the chilly diamonds.
Then he stood back and looked at me again, his head tilted to one side, an appreciative smile playing on his lips. Although he was putting things on me, I felt very naked all of a sudden, and aware of the strange charge such priceless, history-touched jewels carried.
Leo gazed at me, appraising me like a painting. I wasn’t sure how long I could stand this without speaking. I certainly couldn’t go down to Liza’s family drinks reception. Not with the delicious aches currently shivering through my whole body.
He opened another box and removed a diamond cuff. Silently, he held out a hand, and I extended my bare right arm so he could clip it tight around my wrist. I was already wearing my engagement ring on my left hand, so there wasn’t much more of me he could adorn.
Then he opened a final box and took out a tiara set with curling diamond fronds like oak leaves, and carefully placed it in my hair. It was heavy, but it made me stand even taller. Tingles ran down my spine.
“Diamonds specially cut in Paris to sparkle in candlelight,” he said softly. “To throw little drops of light onto your beautiful face under those chandeliers. First worn by an English princess two hundred years ago, and never worn by a lovelier woman till now.”
We stood, not touching, devouring each other with our eyes, in our stiff formal evening wear, and the air around us crackled with the fiercest electricity I’d ever known, even more than the long, exploratory nights we’d spent in his sleigh bed, even more than the dreamlike afternoon in the shady cabin of the royal yacht.
“That dress is beautiful,” he said in a low voice, “but those diamonds would look so much better if you weren’t wearing it.”
That was it. I couldn’t stand it a second longer. I don’t know who moved first, but we were pulled together like magnets, his lips exploring my mouth, then my tingling neck, and I had my hands in his hair, pressing him closer, and God knows what would have happened to my updo if there hadn’t been a loud knock on the door and Rolf and Jo barged straight in.
“Whoa!” said Rolf as we sprang apart.
“You might want to retouch your lipstick,” said Jo, with a very un-Jo-like smirk.
“Your Royal Hotness,” added Rolf.
*
Leo and I missed most of the drinks reception while he speed-coached me through the Latin grace in a deserted side
room.
He marked up the paper with pauses, and made me read it several times, until the words sounded familiar; but I still wasn’t convinced that I’d be able to do it without stumbling, not with all those eyes on me.
“Leo,” I said, because I couldn’t stop myself. “Did Sofia do this on purpose?”
“No.” He said it too quickly, and I didn’t believe him.
“She must have. She wants me to screw this up, does she? She wants me to look stupid, just like she deliberately didn’t get me anything I could wear at the photo shoot!”
Leo looked grim.
“I can only imagine that was a mistake.”
“I can’t do it,” I said suddenly. Wasn’t it better to bail out than prove to everyone that I wasn’t up to a public role? “Let Sofia read the grace, she clearly wants to. It’s not like I can’t do this, but I need preparation and—”
Leo leaned forward and looked—well, not angry, but impatient. “Amy, I don’t want to patronize you, but this kind of change of plan—it happens all the time. You’ve got to get over it. Mom needs you to do this to counterbalance that press business. And if Sofia is shit-stirring, you can’t give her the satisfaction! That’s what the real world’s like. I know plants are easier to handle, but this is what it is.”
I stared at him mutely, too scared to open my mouth in case something came out that I couldn’t take back.
He looked at me, then looked at his watch. “So, what’s it to be?”
“You’re used to this!” I hissed. “I’m not. I can’t just—”
“Then don’t do it,” he hissed back. “Give it here.”
He made to snatch the paper from me, but some inner stubbornness made me keep hold of it.
“Fine,” he said, his eyes hardening. “I’m not going to make you do something you don’t want to. But I’ve got to tell someone that—”
“I’ll do it,” I said, furious. “I’ll … bloody do it.”
Leo relaxed slightly, but I didn’t dial down my glare. I wasn’t sure where this was going. But it felt like something had shifted.
*
The instant we walked into the drinks reception, two things happened—conversation near the door stopped as everyone stared at me, and then Liza swooped on Leo, and carried him off to talk to various European royal relations.
I was left on my own, and if Jo hadn’t rescued me with a cry of delight, I’d have stayed by the door until dinner. Jo was in her element, swimming between different conversations like a beautiful orange fish in a sea of penguins. I was never great about introducing myself, so she did it for me with the same ease as if we’d been at a house party in Fulham; but the conversation flashed back and forth so fast I couldn’t keep up in my adrenaline-ragged state.