Page 8 of The Royal Governess
“Of course I’m sure. I left it on the side table and now it isn’t there. I slept all afternoon and when I woke up, the food tray was gone and so was my phone.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it.” But my hands shook on the way down to dinner. I didn’t want to begin our relationship on an adversarial note, but some things had to be cleared up. My new employer might feel the same. Behind me, Lexi grumbled all the way down the gazillion steps.
Was my lavender peasant top embroidered with purple flowers too casual? My mother had given it to me for my birthday one year, along with a full purple skirt with practical side pockets. How I wished she were still around to talk over my problems with Lexi. But Mom had been gone for two years. The loss had been sudden, and I missed her every day. No quick conversations. No surprise packages of my favorite snickerdoodles. I smoothed one hand over the skirt. Right now, the outfit gave me some reassurance, as if my mother were there.
Behind me, Lexi was dragging her feet, wearing the only dress she’d brought with her. Of course, it was black and white with a ragged handkerchief hem she found stylish. “I’m tired,” she said on our way down the stairs. “Do we have to stay a long time?”
“I hope not.” We’d reached the first floor. Which way now? The note left in my room said to take a right at the bottom of the stairs and follow the lights.
“Here we go.” I kept my voice low so it wouldn't echo against the stone walls. “I'm sure that we can make the dinner short, Lexi. All I want to do is meet Mr. Napolitano and his son. Then we can excuse ourselves until we see him tomorrow in class.”
“Class!” The word broke against the walls.
Stopping, I turned. Even though we were late, I wasn’t going into a dining room bickering with my daughter. That’s not how this was going to start. “Please keep your voice down.”
Her pretty features twisted. “But it's summer. Who goes to school during the summer? I'm not stupid.”
“As we both know, you're very bright, although your grades don't always show it. We’re going to be studying books you’ve already read, so this should be easy for you. Plus a little math. Won’t hurt to be ready for next year.”
“If it's a class, it’s not fun.” Was this the sulky face Lexi presented to her teachers, my colleagues at Providence High School? Probably. I had a lot of work before me this summer, and it had little to do with the teaching on my contract.
We left the staircase behind, our footsteps falling softly on the carpet. “There's a light.” Like the hallway upstairs, this corridor was hung with historical treasures––a collection probably worth millions. Everything was presented tastefully against the ochre walls. Up ahead, double doors were flung wide and light spilled into the passageway. But I couldn’t hear a thing. No conversation. No clatter of plates.
Oh, give me strength.I took a deep breath before stepping through the doorway, Lexi's hand firmly in mind. “Good evening. Sorry we’re late. I’m Christina Newhart.”
My voice faltered on the last syllable. I tried to keep the surprise from my tone. At one end of the long table that could seat ten sat the stable boy. The unruly hair had been tamed, but those deep dark eyes were the same. And right now they were flashing.
At the other end sat the woman who had been our guide earlier that day. Neither one was smiling. In fact, it seemed that we had walked into the middle of an argument. Between them sat a teenage boy, looking miserable. His hair was long, maybe an attempt to hide his acne. The blue shirt was a style not often seen, and he fumbled with the buttons on the cuffs of the wide sleeves.
Chair screeching as he stood, the stable boy gave me a curt nod. “You are, as you say in America, tardy.”
Behind me, Lexi giggled. I squeezed her hand tighter. “Tardy is usually used when a student is late for class. If we’re late, I’m very sorry. It's been a long day.” The words came out in a rush that left me breathless.
With a ridiculous flourish, he motioned to two place settings across from his unfortunate son. “Please.” And with that he snapped his fingers. A young man in claret livery sprang forward to edge out my chair and then Lexi's.
This was not at all what I’d expected stepping onto the plane this morning. You could have cut the tension with one of their heavy silver knives, embellished with a scripted N.
When I looked up, our host was skewering Lexi with an intense gaze. “And this is…?”
Here it was.“My daughter Lexi.” I hadn’t seen Lexi blush in a long time.
“Daughter?” He turned the word over as if he were tasting it. “But I thought you had a son.”
Now, for the past week I’d worked on my innocent expression in the mirror. The one where I would not know what my employer was talking about. I hoped my forehead was wrinkling appropriately. “Really? I don’t know why.”
The king’s dark eyes zapped me.
Reaching over, I squeezed Lexi’s arm. “Lexi is fourteen, almost a sophomore. She’ll join in the classes.”
Father and son did not look pleased. The older woman stared at Lexi’s hair as if a thousand snakes had sprung from it. Her purple hair was no big deal, although Lexi would choke to hear me admit that.
The chest that had felt so warm behind me puffed out, his wide shoulders expanding. “We are happy to meet you, Christina Newhart and Lexi. I am Marco Giovanni Pietro di Napolitano.” The name spilled out in a torrent of syllables. My face broke into a hot flush, thinking of the afternoon. Was this the man who’d cradled me playfully in his arms on that massive horse? Sitting there was an enormous ego I would have to deal with all summer. He reminded me of Chet Daggert, our varsity football coach, after a winning season.
Finally, Marco whoever-he-was came to the end of his introduction. “And this is my son Gregorio.”
“His Royal Highness.” Finally, the mystery woman spoke, making things clear.
After holding my breath for the last two minutes, exhaling brought relief. “Very nice to meet you, Mr., ah Napolitano. And you, Gregorio. Your Royal…whatever.” My voice warmed as I nodded to his son across the table. The poor boy. Having a father like this couldn’t be easy.
