hat. I want to hear all about it.’
‘I doubt I’ll be invited,’ Callie confessed. Luca hadn’t mentioned a ball. She couldn’t imagine he’d want her there. Thank goodness. Her stomach flipped at the thought of attending such a grand occasion, and then flipped at the thought of Luca attending the ball with an eager princess on his arm. He was better off with someone like that, she told herself, someone who was used to public occasions. Callie would probably say the wrong thing, or trip over her own feet.
‘Don’t let me down,’ Ma Brown warned. ‘When you said you were going on an adventure, a ball at the Prince’s palace was exactly the sort of thing I had in mind.’
‘I’m not Cinderella,’ Callie reminded her good friend ruefully, ‘and I don’t have a fairy godmother.’
‘I wouldn’t be too sure about that,’ Ma Brown insisted. ‘And I want an invitation to the wedding.’
Before Callie had chance to respond, Ma Brown had bustled off the line, no doubt to attend to more motherly duties.
A diet of romance, Ma Brown’s favourite reading matter, had obviously distanced her from reality, Callie concluded, but she was both thrilled and relieved at the way her good friend had taken the news of the pregnancy. Ma Brown was right. Pregnancy was normal. Attending a royal ball was not. But she’d have a go, if she were invited. She owed it to Ma Brown to attend the ball if she got the chance.
Ten minutes later she changed her mind again. I don’t belong here. Burying her head in her arms, Callie took a deep, steadying breath, and then lifted her chin to stare at herself in the ornately gilded dressing-table mirror. Her reflection appeared in what was surely a priceless antique like everything else in her elegant suite of rooms. How on earth had she ended up here?
‘I’ll tell you how,’ Callie’s snarky inner critic butted in. ‘From good girl to a hussy in no time flat, that’s you, Callie Smith!’
Fair play, Callie agreed. The fairy tale wasn’t quite as she’d described it to Ma Brown. She never knew where she stood with Luca, and the worst of it was, a few months ago, she’d known exactly where she was heading. Her short adventure in Italy would be a harmless interlude to look back on with pleasure. She’d go home after a couple of weeks, pick up her studies, go to college, and get a better job. Pregnancy had changed all that. Her priorities had completely switched around. The baby came first. It always would. Every decision Callie made from now on would be in the best interests of her child.
Luca’s child also.
Closing her eyes, she reviewed what she’d seen of Luca’s life to date. From the vast, echoing hallway, with it frescoes on the lofty ceiling, to the foot of a wide sweep of crimson-carpeted stairs, her head hadn’t stop whirring as she gazed around. Did she need more proof that she didn’t belong here? It hardly seemed possible that just a few hours ago she had been planning to make do and mend to raise a child she already loved. In the palace she was surrounded by so much...everything. The five-star hotel she’d thought so lavish was a mere potting shed compared to this. She had to stop short of pinching herself to make sure it wasn’t all a dream. When a knock came at the door and it opened without Callie saying a word, she sprang up guiltily.
‘Oh, sorry, madam, I—’
‘No—please, come in. And please call me Callie...’
Callie paled as the maid stood back against the wall to allow a team of footmen to wheel several gown rails into the room. These were laden with a sparkling array of full-length ball gowns. Cinderella had nothing on this, Callie concluded, frowning. ‘There must be some mistake,’ she said.
‘No mistake, madam,’ the maid assured her. ‘As it’s rather short notice, His Serene Highness apologises for not sending you an invitation to the ball, but he wants you to know that you are free to choose any of these dresses to wear.’
‘His Serene Highness expects me to attend the ball?’
‘He does, madam.’
Then, His Serene High and Mightiness could have the courtesy to come and tell her that himself, Callie thought, but she thanked the maid, who was the innocent messenger. ‘I hope this hasn’t put you to too much trouble?’
‘None at all, madam. As soon as you’ve made your choice, if you ring this bell...’ the maid indicated a silken tassel hanging on the wall ‘...I’ll return immediately to help you dress.’
‘The ball’s tonight?’ Callie exclaimed in panic.
‘Oh, no, madam. This is just to give you chance to choose your gown and try it on. The Prince has instructed me to tell you that he will be with you by seven o’clock this evening to discuss your choice of gown.’
Hmm, Callie thought. And take it off, if she knew Luca. She couldn’t imagine he cared less what she wore. He was far more interested in removing her clothes.
As soon as the maid had gone, she walked over to the rail to check out the selection of dresses. She’d never seen so many fabulous outfits before. There were gowns in every colour in the rainbow. Some were beaded, some had frills, and some had gauzy ribbon. Nearly all of them had low necks, and/or big slits up the side and plunging backs. She guessed she was ungrateful for thinking all of them a bit over the top. She was frightened to touch them in case she soiled them, but she had to choose one. Picking out an aquamarine gown, her favourite colour, she held it up against her, but it was so heavily beaded it weighed a ton. She had to admit that the scent of fine silk, and the sight of such expert tailoring, did take her breath. There was boning inside the bodice, so no need to wear a bra, and the skirt was such a slender column, she’d have to hop, Callie reflected wryly as she returned it to the rail.
One after the other she discarded the dresses. She couldn’t see herself wearing any of them. They were far too fancy, and didn’t look at all comfortable to wear. Crossing the room, she rang the bell.
‘Yes, madam?’ the maid enquired politely.
‘We’re around the same size. Could you lend me a pair of jeans and a top so I can go shopping?’ There must be a high street in Fabrizio, she reasoned.
‘Go shopping, madam?’ the maid repeated as if Callie had suggested dancing naked in the street. ‘I’ll have a selection of outfits delivered to you within the hour.’
‘Really?’
‘Of course.’