“There is no room for provisos. I’m afraid the damage is done.” At the look of horror on my face, he adds, “I’m terribly sorry. Her Royal Highness is a first-impression type of person. However, I may have gone off on a tangent, but all I wish to convey is you do not require her favor.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Damn, you gave it to me straight, no chaser. I’ll appreciate that tomorrow.”
“As you requested during our many chats while Victor was away.”
Shit,I cringe. Well, I’d prefer someone who straightened my crown and not humored me, so I square my shoulders. We continue past portraits almost two stories high on the towering walls. Each painting boasts men from different centuries, each resembling Victor in some form.
Villainous looking with snobby hair.
Striking eyes.
I pause to take it all in. “So, those are all royalty?”
“Yes,”
“Bu-but . . .”
“I presumed that Victor warned you?” Burt arches an eyebrow.
“Yes, sure. Still, it’s just too much. If this were a novel . . . But Victor didn’t mention Mary—”
“Princess Mary or Her Royal Highness is Victor’s mother,” Jane says.
“I’m sorry, but I’m having a difficult time wrapping my mind around this,” I murmur.
“It’s all a misunderstanding that will be dealt with,” Burt assures.
How do I apologize and make things right?
Burt stops before shiny wooden double doors. He opens them, leaving me speechless. The large bedroom is straight out of a historical Harlequin romance. A canopied bed seems to be stacked high with an abundance of soft feather pillows. To one side, there’s a fireplace with a marbled mantel taller than I am. Paisley silks and satins adorn every inch of the room.
“Miss Luxury, I have other things I must attend to. Jane will help you with whatever you need.” Burt smiles, exiting the room and shutting the doors behind him.
I sink onto the antique silk chaise near the balcony, alone with Jane.
“Where are Victor’s things?” I ask. I get the feeling that this isn'thisroom. It lacks masculinity. The maid stages my luggage in one spot. The room is by no means tiny. I could fit the entire downstairs portion of my loft in here.
“I’m sure Prince Victor’s attending to his mum. She’s prone to fainting,” she assures, beginning to unzip the luggage. I look Jane up and down. She’s dressed in a uniform, the same as the crowd of other staff. They could’ve easily been five-star hotel maids. Just like this bedroom could be a five-star hotel room.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I mean, where are his things? As in, is this Victor’s room?” I ask, using my hands as leverage to hop onto the tall bed.
“Miss Luxury,” she steps toward me with a smile, “please use this stool whenever you’d like.”
I smile as she pulls a wood step stool from under the bed.
She’s been kind, but something tells me Jane’s keeping secrets. She’s skipped over my question entirely. This is not Victor’s room. Even though I’m irritated, I thank her for the advice and add, “Jane, can you tell them I won't be coming out, not tonight. Though, this is such a beautiful palace. I think I’m going to love Arlington. Is there a bathroom?”
“Arling . . . ye-yes, but of course, forgive me. I hadn’t finished giving you the tour.” Jane steps across the large room and opens yet another door. “It's right here. Miss Luxury, if you would please, dinner is almost ready. In precisely forty-five minutes. There are clothes already here.”
“No, thanks. I’ve embarrassed myself enough today.” I take a deep breath.
“Are you sure? Look at all these beautiful items.” Jane smiles and opens another door to a friggen room, boasting an entire wardrobe. Though holding the same historic charm as the whole palace, this renovated room is modern. She pulls out dresses, pants, and the occasional jeans, all name brands.
“I was allowed to go shopping this morning for your arrival,” Jane says, proud of her fashion sense. “Is anything less than to your liking?” she asks, touching a few of the silks and delicate items.
“No.” I sigh. “Can you just go tell them I have a headache?”
“Allow me to offer you paracetamol. It’s our English form of pain reliever—”