Page 10 of The Royal Governess
Okay, I’d been silenced. Gregorio went back to his dinner and so did I. All I wanted was to collapse on that high comfortable bed. Thank goodness Marco never mentioned our earlier meeting. Remembering how I’d been pressed against that very firm chest brought heat to my face. All evening, I hoped the scratches on my hands weren’t too noticeable.
Sitting there, I had the surreal feeling that I'd been transported to another world, another time. The paintings on the walls could have hung in art museums. Bucolic landscapes were interspersed among Biblical scenes, along with a few portraits. Very Renaissance. Beyond the dining room table, the enormous salon held clusters of conversational groupings. The furniture could easily have dated back to the eighteenth century, or earlier. Since I watchedAntiques Roadshow, I knew a thing or two about all those graceful arches and delicate spindles.
Tomorrow I would explore more when I had time. Right now, I was about to fall into a food coma. The stilted conversation continued, and I deflected questions as best I could. After the pasta came the salad. Finally, we worked our way to cheese and fruit, followed by pastries with accompanying parfaits of lemon ice drizzled with port. If I ate like this every day, my clothes wouldn’t fit. But I had to set things straight. “King Marco…” I began.
“Your Majesty.” His mother cut in, her voice sharp as a knife.
“Your Majesty.” My eyes felt as if they had cotton balls pressed against them. “While we were out of our rooms this afternoon it seems that our phones disappeared.”
The mother continued to spoon lemon ice through her thin lips.
“No cell phones.” His words fell like a sentence.
“But we need our phones.” Lexi spoke up.
Thank goodness for the tablecloth. Reaching over under the deep linen drape I squeezed her hand. “Perhaps we can talk about this tomorrow, Your Excellency. Majesty,” I added, hoping one of those was right.
Tossing his napkin onto the table, Marco studied me as if I were a hungry peasant who’d wandered in off the street. “Tomorrow.”
The word sounded like a threat. “Yes sir.”
That slight quirk of Gregorio’s lips seemed sympathetic. Looking pleased, King Marco’s mother fingered her sapphire. The king rose. I hadn't realized how tall he was. This must be some sort of signal because his mother also got up.
“Lovely to meet you,” I managed, pulling myself to all five foot four inches.
Giving me a curt nod, Marco left, his mother taking the arm he offered. She seemed to have some magic force that allowed her to skim the floors without touching them.
When Gregorio circled the table, I was surprised. Why, he was even taller than Lexi and well on his way to match his father’s height. “Good night, Profesora,” he said with a short nod.
“Good night, Gregorio. Hope to see you tomorrow.”
Hi brows lifted a bit at the “hope” part. But what did I know? Marco might give me the boot the following day. Next to me, Lexi executed a stiff curtsy.
“What the heck are you doing,” I whispered when Gregorio was out of ear shot.
“Hey, I saw this in a movie. You do that with royalty.”
“Over my dead body.” Then we looked at each other and laughed. Would it come to that? The silent castle felt forbidding as we dragged ourselves up the steps that night.
“One hundred and thirty,” Lexi said when we reached the top.
“I need a minute.” Bending over, I tried to catch my breath. “One hundred and thirty what?”
“Stairs.” With her long-legged stride, Lexi headed toward her room.
As I got ready for bed that night, I heard a quiet knock on my door. Was the Queen Mother coming to turn down my bed and offer a chocolate? I chuckled at the thought. If so, she was going to love my Pittsburgh Steelers night shirt. When I cracked open the door, Lexi stood outside, clutching a comforter. Without all that makeup she looked about ten years old. “Is it all right if I sleep with you? That room gives me the creeps.”
“Of course, sweetheart.”
Long after we were settled in bed and Lexi had fallen asleep, my mind worked overtime. Tomorrow I would straighten everything out.
3
When I woke up the following morning, a hazy light filled the room. The warm golden tone made the antiques look like pieces from a movie set. And I was in it. This didn’t feel bad at all. I settled back into the silky, multi-hundred thread count sheets.
Dreams had disturbed my sleep. Nightmares involving men in red livery and wild horses. Maybe this whole trip was just a bad dream. But no. Beside me, Lexi slept, her nose buried in a pillow, lips parted and her purple hair a bright contrast to the bedding.
The fancy clock on the mantel told me it was not quite six. Perfect. Sliding carefully from the bed, I tiptoed into the bathroom. After slipping into slacks and a pink knit top, I scrawled a note for Lexi. I wanted to do some exploring on my own and my daughter might not wake up for a long time. Careful not to make any noise, I quietly shut the door behind me and stepped down the hall.
