This was no ordinary bedroom. In fact, there was no bed. Ama must have a suite. Perhaps all of the family members did and that shouldn’t surprise me. A decorator had definitely been at work here. In contrast to the rest of the castle, here the color scheme was a tasteful gray with purple and magenta accents. The side tables were exquisite with delicate spindly legs.
On every wall, paintings soared to the ceiling. No doubt she had her own collection of bucolic scenes and family members. But pride of place was given to the portrait of a gorgeous woman with dark hair standing behind a throne. Her hand rested on the shoulder of a handsome man whose uniform gleamed with ribbons and medals. A young boy stood beside them. At the sight of that smile, warmth cascaded through my body. Marco.
Ama followed my eyes. “My husband. And Marco, of course.” Her smile warmed as she took in the painting.
Was it all right to ask questions? “How old was Marco in this painting?”
“Ten.” Her eyes studied the painting with pride.
“Very handsome family.” What else could I say? The family resemblance was unmistakable. The dark hair and eyes, the patrician nose and carved cheekbones, which were softened in Gregorio’s case.
Questions pulsed in my head but this was no time to ask them. My eyes circled the room. Instead of one balcony, Ama’s room had two sets of french doors opening onto balconies. Between those french doors sat a large armoire. Two gowns hung from an open door.
Immediately catching my eye, the robin’s egg blue gown shimmered. With a modest scoop in the front, the bodice tucked into a slim waist before falling to the floor with a full skirt. The skirt glimmered, catching the light with hundreds of tiny crystals.
“What do you think?” Ama snagged the hanger of the dress with one hand.
“It’s beautiful. A Cinderella dress.” Made of gossamer material, the dress looked as if it might fit.
Wearing a pleased smile, Ama went to hold it up to me but I stepped back. “My suit is still damp under this shirt. I don’t want to ruin it.” To think of wearing this beautiful creation was impossible. But it sure was tempting. Ama was being so kind, so thoughtful. Her offer would save me the hassle of searching the village, where I might find nothing appropriate.
When Ama spun the hanger from one hand, the fabric billowed out, issuing an invitation. “But of course,” she said, whisking it back to the armoire. “So that’s settled. I’ll have it put in your room.”
“Oh, are you sure?” What if I spilled red wine on this dream of a dress? I wasn’t exactly the most coordinated person.
Ama glanced back at me while tucking the dress into the armoire. “Of course I’m sure.” A slight touch of scorn tinged her words. Like Marco, she wasn’t used to being questioned
Then she motioned to the second dress, a simple linen with a high neck and a keyhole cutout falling to an A-line dress. “For your daughter?”
Hmm. The dress was lovely but it was sleeveless. Now how would I get around this? Dressing Lexi had always been a challenge in the summer. “My daughter likes sleeves.” There. I’d leave it at that.
Fingering the huge sapphire at her neck, Ama seemed to ponder options. “Perhaps a jacket of some sort?”
“Maybe that would work.” Was she kidding me? The weather continued to be hot and muggy. Despite what Gregorio had said about their pseudo air conditioning, the castle still felt uncomfortable.
“For you to decide. His Majesty is inviting guests… of his own rank, of course.”
“Of course.” Ah, now we were back on familiar footing. I was the hired governess, nothing more.
Her dark eyes bored into me. “My son has expectations of you and your daughter for this event.”
Right. And buying little peasant dresses in town wouldn’t pass muster. “I understand.”
Her grim smile was back, kind of like the witch who lured Hansel and Gretel. “The dresses will be in your room tonight. What you do with them will be up to you.” Then she crossed her arms at her waist, hands disappearing into the full cuffs.
Our girl-to-girl chat was over. “Thank you so much, Your Grace.”
Her head tilted to one side. I probably had the wrong title.So shoot me.
Somehow I escaped from the room, my head whirling like the fabric of that exquisite dress. So Marco had “expectations.” And I would have a hand in sorting through girls who would meet them.
Those poor young women.
Back in my room, I changed and went to find Lexi next door.
“Maybe we shouldn’t go.”
Propped up on the satin pillows, Lexi was reading. Now the book was tossed aside. “Are you kidding? Miss this ball? Gregorio says the food is going to be fabulous and they’re having fireworks. We’re going.”
