“If it hadn’t, the big white dress I’m about to put on would’ve given it away.” I nudged her with my foot.
“I know, but ... I guess I’ve known it on one level, but I’m only now realizing the reality of the whole thing.” My sister bit her lip. “I can’t believe you’re getting married today, Ky. Everything is going to change.”
“Not really.” I didn’t want to start getting sentimental this early in the day, or I’d never make it down the aisle with my makeup intact. “Life is going to be just like it is, only now it’ll be official. You’re used to me being away—I’ve been living somewhere other than home for over eight years, whether it was in Florida or Maine or now England.” I pulled up my knees and hugged them to me. “And now when you come visit me, everything will be easier. I’ll be official, so I won’t have to worry so much—and eventually, we’ll have a home big enough for you to all come and stay.”
There was a knock on the door, and a maid in a black uniform appeared, wheeling ahead of her a cart covered in silver domes. “Good morning, Ms. Duncan. Are you ready for breakfast?”
I glanced at my sisters and took a deep breath. “Good morning. Yes, please. I think it’s time we get this day started.”
After breakfast, everything seemed to speed up, and suddenly, it felt as though there were hundreds of people coming in and going out, everyone talking at once and giving me information. My head was spinning, and I probably would’ve run to the corner to cry if it hadn’t been for my mother, Lady Marjorie and Sophie, all of whom kept me moving with brisk instructions and guiding hands.
I went from my breakfast tray in bed, with Bria, Lisel, Honey and my mother sitting with me, eating too, directly to the shower. When I emerged in my robe—a special one my mother had brought to me specifically for the day, so that I looked bridal even in the prep photos that she and Bria kept taking—my bedroom was filled with chattering women.
“Oh, look, there she is!” Cassa lifted her mimosa in salute to me. “We’re just watching all the news coverage that’s already on today. There’s still no leak on the gown, so that’s good.”
“Ms. Duncan, we’ll need to begin your hair and makeup right away.” The stylist we’d hired for the day beckoned to me. “Everything is set up down the hall.”
My mother patted my back. “Would you like me to come with you? Your grandmother, the girls and I should probably start getting ready ourselves, actually.”
“No, thanks.” I shook my head. “I don’t want anyone who isn’t working on me in the room until I’m completely ready. I want the big reveal, with dress, hair, makeup—everything—at just the right moment.”
“I never knew you to have such a flair for the dramatic,” my mother laughed.
“No,” agreed Honey, pausing to give me a quick hug. “But today Kyra’s a bride, and that means she’s entitled to all the flair she wants, dramatic or otherwise.”
I’d never been the sort of girl who spent hours in front of a mirror trying different hair styles or new makeup routines, not even when I was a teenager. I’d always had more interest in being outside. But in the months leading to my wedding day, the stylists had visited me several times so that we could practice techniques and come up with the perfect look for this bride.
So when I turned to the mirror once they’d finished drying my hair, setting curlers and putting more product than I’d ever known existed on my face, I wasn’t completely surprised by the result—but I was very pleased.
I looked like me—just a little bit refined. We’d had to exaggerate some of my eye makeup to make sure I didn’t fade in photographs, but it didn’t look garish or too much; the artist had done a skillful job of blending everything perfectly.
My hair was smooth and shining, part of it caught back with pins and the rest hanging in fat perfect curls over my shoulder. Even in my robe, I felt beautiful and bridal.
“Are you ready for the tiara, Kyra?” The hair stylist met my eyes in the mirror. “I’ll have to call for it.”
“What time is it?” Out of habit, I reached for my phone, but of course, it wasn’t in the pocket of my robe.
“You have about thirty minutes before we’ll need to start putting on your dress.” The stylist had both her phone and a printed itinerary for this morning, a paper that laid out in minute detail everything that had to happen leading up to our departure for the chapel.
“Then I guess the answer is yes.” I smiled. “By the time they bring the tiara from the vault and you make sure it’s secure on my head, it’ll be time to call in Cassa.”
Three months ago, I’d had an invitation from Her Majesty to come and view her tiaras so that together we could decide which one would be suitable for me to borrow for my wedding day. It was a tradition that the incoming royal bride wore one of the family’s many jeweled head pieces, and so in preparation the night before, I’d poured over old pictures with Nicky’s mother and Alex as we’d tried to decide which one might suit me the best.
And then over tea, the Queen had shown me the options, telling me stories about each one and giving me another glimpse into her wicked sense of humor.
“Sapphires have always been a favorite of mine, and my father, King George VI, gave me a lovely set of them for my wedding gift. Later I had this made to match that jewelry.” Her Majesty lifted a beautiful ornate crown. “But I think it might be too much for you, particularly with the blue.”
“It’s amazing, but yes, I think you’re right.”
“And this one is a dazzler, isn’t it? It’s called the Kokoshnik Tiara. It was a gift to my great-grandmother, Queen Alexandra, on the occasion of her wedding anniversary.” She paused. “You’ll remember that she was Queen Victoria’s daughter-in-law.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I leaned down to get a better look. “It’s exquisite, but I think it might be too ornate for my gown.”And my head, I thought to myself.
“I agree.” The Queen reached for another velvet box. “Now I don’t want to influence your choice, but in my opinion, this one might be exactly perfect for you ...”
“Ms. Duncan, the tiara is here. We’re ready to place it.”
I held my head as still as I could as the antique jeweled piece was lifted from the box and positioned low on my head. The Lotus Flower Tiara had a charming Art Deco feel, which was right as it had been created in the 1920’s by the late Queen Mother, Nicky’s great-grandmother, from a necklace that her husband had given her on their own wedding day. It wasn’t so overwhelming that it would make me feel ridiculous, but it had enough glitter and shine that there wasn’t any doubt I was the bride. The soon-to-be duchess.
