hear the murmur of women’s voices as she approached, and she relaxed. Matty’s coronation outfit had been a source of interest and enthusiasm for the last week. Needlewomen had come in from Zunderfied and the castle had been humming.
‘You should have something royal to wear,’ Crater had said, reproving, but there was no way she was going down that road. She’d married in simple clothes in Paris. She’d never been a royal bride.
She wasn’t royal now.
Matty was tugging her forward, hurrying her on. He reached the big oak doors of the workrooms and threw them open.
Rafael was there.
She stopped breathing.
He was gorgeous. Stunning. Breathtakingly amazing.
A real prince.
His clothes fitted like a second skin. Deep black leggings-skintight. Glossy Hessian boots, jet-black with tassels. What looked to be a morning jacket, but inset with red, black and gold panels, intricately embroidered. The royal crest was emblazoned on the jacket breast. A deep gold sash lay across his breast. There were rows of medallions, epaulettes, gold tassels…
A sword lay at his side, longer than the one she’d seen in Australia, its grip a cunningly wrought gold three- dimensional symbol of the royal house of de Boutaine.
His black curls were flicked back as they always were, raked back by fingers that worried. He’d been gazing in the mirror, his cool grey eyes smiling, half mocking. As the door opened and he turned to see who entered, his smile still lingered.
He was laughing at himself, she thought, but there was no way she was laughing.
Rafael…
It was as much as she could do not to sink into a curtsey. As it was, she gripped the door handle and held.
‘It’s a bit much,’ he said, smiling across at her, and she thought wildly, Don’t do that-don’t smile, don’t!
‘Mine’s just like it,’ Matty said with deep satisfaction. ‘Aren’t we gorgeous?’
‘Gorgeous,’ she agreed faintly.
‘What will you be wearing, Mama?’ Matty asked. He crossed to where Ellen was waiting to help him into his costume. ‘It’ll have to be something very beautiful to match my Uncle Rafael and me.’
‘I couldn’t come near matching you,’ she whispered.
‘But you will wear a pretty dress.’
‘Maybe,’ she said. Thinking of those gowns. Thinking of what had happened the one night she’d worn one.
‘One of the pretty ones you wore on the goldfields?’ Matty said hopefully. He was in leggings now, turning to the mirror and sticking his small chest out with manly pride. ‘Are they pretty enough for the coronation, Uncle Rafael?’
‘No,’ Rafael said.
‘Then it’s just as well I didn’t bring them,’ she retorted.
‘If you please, ma’am…’
There were four women in the room. One had been adjusting the base of Rafael’s coat. Two were sitting at the table sewing, and Ellen was helping Matty on with his vest. But now she interjected. She rose stiffly to her feet and stood, unsure. ‘I…we have a suggestion.’
‘A suggestion?’ Kelly frowned and glanced suspiciously at Rafael, but he was looking as in the dark as she was.
‘The clothes Prince Rafael and Prince Mathieu will wear are traditional. We wondered…seeing you’re a historian…’ Ellen gave a nervous gasp, looked to her friends for support and crossed to the corner of the room. There was a mannequin there, shrouded with dust-sheets.
Ellen cast Kelly another nervous glance and then she tugged off the dust-sheet.
The dress was breathtaking. It looked almost Elizabethan, a creation of the most exquisitely cut gold and ivory silk, skilfully set over a rich crimson underskirt. The neckline was almost square, cut low to reveal the swell of breasts. Filigree sleeves were gathered into elegant lace wristbands in the finest of gold. The waist cinched into a deep V, designed to make any woman’s waist look tiny.
And the embroidery. Such embroidery-all fire, swirls and curves. The gown shimmered and glistened as Ellen pulled the dust-sheet free, almost assuming a life of its own. There were hoops underneath, spreading the dress almost as wide at the hem as the gown was high. There was a train-Ellen was setting it out now. It was embroidered to represent a golden dragon, running from waist to maybe ten metres behind.
Kelly gasped with shock. She couldn’t help herself. She stepped forward, almost reverently, hardly brave enough to touch it.
‘It’s…’
‘Over two hundred years old,’ Ellen breathed. ‘When the old Prince was pressuring Kass to be married, he ordered it to be restored. But then…then Kass married you.’
‘Not a princess,’ she whispered.
‘But you are a princess,’ Ellen said stubbornly. ‘You should have had the right to wear it. You have the right to wear it now. We’ve measured it against your gowns here. It’ll take very little alteration.’
‘Wow,’ Rafael breathed. ‘Kelly, you have to wear it.’
‘I don’t,’ she said, feeling so out of her depth she was close to tears. ‘I’m not royal.’
‘No, but you are,’ Matty repeated. ‘You were married to my father. You’re a real princess.’
‘I’m a commoner.’
‘You’re Australian,’ Ellen said with satisfaction.
‘So what?’ She was bewildered. Maybe she even sounded angry, but she couldn’t help it. The sight of the dress was so awesome it took her breath away. And the way Rafael was looking at her didn’t help. Plus the way Rafael looked…She had a sudden vision of the two of them. Rafael in his dress uniform and she in this dress.
No and no and no.
But Ellen was speaking. She had to listen. What did being an Australian have to do with anything?
‘The palace gossip was that was why Kass chose you,’ Ellen said, answering her question before she’d framed it. ‘When Kass’s father heard of Prince Raoul’s marriage to Jessica in Alp d’Azuri to a commoner-to an Australian-he laughed about it. He said Raoul was a fool and the country would never accept such a marriage. And then you and your team were working so close to here…’
‘So he just picked me,’ Kelly whispered.
‘And we were so excited,’ Ellen said stoutly. ‘The people of Alp d’Azuri have had nothing but prosperity since their prince’s marriage. We had such hopes…’
‘Of me?’
‘You were our princess from the time Prince Kass married you,’ Ellen retorted. ‘We hated that you went away. We’ve always wanted you to come home. And we hated that the old Prince made us put this gown away.’ She faltered and bent her head over the train, pretending to straighten a crease. ‘We…we need a royal family.’
‘You have Rafael and Matty,’ Kelly whispered.
‘It’s not a family.’
‘Leave her,’ Rafael said, sounding suddenly angry. ‘Ellen, this isn’t fair.’
‘No, sir.’
‘You don’t need to defend me,’ Kelly told him.
‘Don’t I?’
‘No,’ she flashed, and he grinned that heart-stopping grin and lifted his sword from its scabbard.
‘I guess it’s not me alone. You have two men to do it now,’ he said, seemingly determined to turn what had been too serious a moment into a joke. ‘The decision about the dress can be made later. Matty, we need you to have some fencing lessons.
‘Not here,’ Ellen shrieked as Matty picked up his sword and giggled. ‘Not near the dress.’
But Rafael was changing the subject away from the dress, away from her, distracting them all from a topic she found too hard. She could merge into the background, she thought thankfully.
He was protecting her.
