Page 7 of Once Upon a Royal Summer
The entire tea party was like a well-choreographed dance, one Lacey knew by heart. But due to the ever-changing guests, it was never quite the same. In the five years Lacey had been playing Princess Sweet Pea, she’d met children from all over the country. Some even came to Once Upon A Time from other parts of the world.
Case in point: the adorable young girl seated at the second to last table in Lacey’s rotation. She and the gentleman sitting beside her—the girl’s father, Lacey presumed, although it was hard to tell, since the baseball cap on the man’s head was pulled down so low over his eyes—appeared to be the only partygoers at the table. Which meant they’d booked the entire space, since seats at Sweet Pea’s Royal Tea Party never went unreserved. It was a rarity for a smaller party to book a table all to themselves, but it happened from time to time.
Although, Lacey wasn’t sure she’d ever seen just two guests sitting at a table for ten before.
“How do you do, Your Royal Highness,” the girl said in a refined accent Lacey couldn’t quite place. She couldn’t have been more than six or seven, but she enunciated each word with great care.
“Good morning.” Lacey curtsied. “What’s your name, princess?”
The man in the baseball cap cleared his throat, but kept his head down. Perhaps he needed to take an etiquette lesson from his unusually poised daughter.
“I’m Her Royal Highness, Princess Rose.” The child beamed.
Her father’s head snapped up, revealing a pair of piercing blue eyes. Lacey’s stomach did a flutter. She pressed her hand to the satin bodice of her ballgown. There should be a law against brooding men hiding such lovely eyes beneath baseball caps. It was quite…unnerving. All of a sudden, he looked sort of like Prince Charming on his way to the gym. Jogging pants and slim-fit athletic jacket, check. Baseball hat, check. Regal bone structure and dreamy blue eyes—check and double check.
“Just Rose,” he corrected, reaching for his cup of tea. “No need for titles.”
Rose’s cute rosebud mouth turned down into a frown.
“I’m sure you’re mistaken, sir. All little girls are princesses, aren’t they, Princess Rose?” Lacey winked at the child.
Rose’s smile returned at once. Dimples flashed in her round, pink cheeks. She tilted her head, and her pigtails danced as she studied Lacey’s tiara. “Your crown is very sparkly. And very, very big. I have a crown at home, but it’s much smaller. It’s real though, and it’s back home in my real castle.”
Her grumpy dad choked a bit on his tea.
“I’m sure your crown and your castle are lovely, just like you,” Lacey said, tapping the girl on the tip of her nose. What a precious child! Such a sweet imagination.
Rose giggled.
“Rose, sweetheart.” Her dad aimed the bill of his baseball cap in his daughter’s direction. “Perhaps it’s not best for princesses to discuss the size of their royal accoutrements?”
“I don’t know what that means, Daddy,” Rose said.
Her dad sighed.
“Don’t worry, Princess Rose. There’s nothing in the royal rules that say you can’t talk about your sparkly crown.” Lacey slid Grumpy Baseball Cap a pointed glance. Honestly, why rain on the child’s parade? This was all nothing but make-believe.
“The royal rules?” His blue eyes narrowed. And his accent—it was even posher than his daughter’s. “And what might those be, exactly?”
The fluttering in Lacey’s belly intensified. “Surely you’re not interested in hearing about how to be a proper princess, my good sir.”
“On the contrary, I’m quite interested. Do elaborate.” He shot a glance at the footman. “And please tell me these rules somehow explain why your footman has bunny ears.”
Ah, a skeptic. Lacey had come across his kind before. The poor man clearly didn’t have an appreciation for whimsy. Or royalty, for that matter. No wonder his daughter wanted to live in a castle.
Her father probably wouldn’t know a crown if it landed right on his annoyingly handsome head.
“My footman has bunny ears because he’s an enchanted bunny rabbit, of course.” The woman in the puffy ballgown—Henry couldn’t refer to her as Princess Sweet Pea with a straight face, it just wasn’t possible—tilted her head and batted her eyelashes at him.
She was more cartoon character than actual human being, but Henry had to give credit where credit was due. She showed no sign whatsoever of breaking character. He knew firsthand how difficult such a task could be. It reminded him of having to feign interest in whatever the Duke of Spain had been droning on and on about at the most recent state dinner at the palace in Bella-Moritz.
“Of course,” he echoed. “Tell me, are all footmen enchanted?”
“Oh, yes.” The pretend princess beamed at him as if nothing delighted her more than the thought of a garden animal-turned royal page. She turned toward Rose. “Princess Rose, are the footmen in your royal palace bunnies, squirrels, or frogs?”
Bunnies, squirrels, or frogs?
A bark of laughter escaped Henry. He just couldn’t help it. He’d never been party to such a ludicrous conversation in his life.
