When I nodded my assent, Alex went on. “You shouldn’t worry so much about meeting the Queen. Yes, I’ll admit, she has tremendous presence, and when you stop to think about what she’s been through, what she’s lived through and experienced—it is amazing and makes one’s knees knock. But at the end of the day, you’re not meeting her as Kyra Duncan, random visiting American. You’re going to meet her as Kyra, her beloved grandson’s fiancée. As a woman whom she wants to welcome into the family.”
“But does she?” I muttered darkly.
“Of course, she does.” Alex smiled at me. “Nothing gets by Granny. When Nicky started seeing you last year, she asked Daddy all about you and whether the relationship was serious. When we were all at Sandringham at Christmas, I was walking with Granny one day, and she remarked that Nicky seemed particularly sad. She asked me if there wasn’t some way to mend the rift between you. She was worried, as any loving grandmother would be.”
“And when you moved to London, she was very pleased,” added Daisy. “Let’s not be blind about this, Kyra. Do you really think you would’ve been permitted to move into Kensington Palace if the Queen had reservations about your suitability for Nicky? You wouldn’t have been. It simply wouldn’t have happened.”
“Daisy’s right.” Alex leaned across the table and covered my hand with hers. “Try not to stress too much about this meeting. Just be yourself. She’s going to love you.”
I thought about what Alex and Daisy had said as the car drew up to the impressive gates that opened to allow the car into Buckingham Palace. Part of me wanted to crane my head out the window and snap pictures, because who wouldn’t be awestruck at driving into the famous residence of the monarchs of the United Kingdom? Another part of me wanted to shrink down into the car and hope that no one could see me.
Nicky zipped around to a side road that led to an open courtyard, where assorted cars were parked alongside a lawn. He found a spot and turned off the engine, turning to me with a grin.
“It’s showtime, darling. Are you ready?”
I shuddered and then sat up a little straighter. “As much as I’ll ever be. Right now, my focus is on not throwing up or tripping or saying something completely inappropriate.”
He laughed, lifting my hand to his lips and brushing a kiss over my fingers. “Aim high, Ky. C’mon. Let’s go in. We definitely don’t want to be late.”
I allowed him to help me from the car seat. “But if we are, I’m totally blaming that on you. Just a warning.”
“I’m willing to be thrown under the bus.”
I paused, running one shaky hand over my below-the-knee green silk dress with its matching wool coat. My legs were encased in pantyhose, which was one of the royal dressing rules I was learning to embrace, and my black patent pumps had a moderate heel, neither too high nor too low.
“Okay. I’m set.”
We made our way along a narrow brick pathway to a nondescript door. Before Nicky could reach for the knob, it swung open. A man in a dark suit greeted us, his face expressionless.
“Good afternoon, Your Royal Highness.” He nodded to me. “Ms. Duncan. I’m Sir John Agnew, one of the Queen’s equerries. Her Majesty is waiting for you both. Right this way, please.”
Just inside, an older woman appeared and offered to take our coats. Nicky helped me with mine and handed both over.
“Thank you, Carol.” He smiled and leaned down to murmur in my ear. “One of the housekeeping staff.”
I nodded, wondering how anyone kept all the names straight.
Gripping Nicky’s hand, I followed the man through winding corridors, doing my best not to gape open-mouthed at the artwork on the walls and the suits of armor standing guard at random points along the way. The history nerd in me wanted to stop and examine each one at closer range. After all, this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity—
And then it hit me. No, this wasn’t a one-time shot. I was marrying the man who held my hand now, and the palace we were walking through was his grandparents’ home. I wasn’t just about to meet the Queen; I was going to get to know his grandmother, who happened to sit on the throne of Great Britain, the latest in a long line that stretched back to the days of Elizabeth I and Henry VIII.
I’d never thought about Nicky as being a member of a grand family. I hadn’t spent time mulling over exactly how many of his ancestors were people I’d studied in history class. To me, he was just ... Nicky. The boy I remembered from childhood and the man I was going to love for the rest of my life. Thinking that he really was part of an incredible bloodline, I slid him a sideways glance.
As if he sensed the direction of my thoughts, he met my eyes, winked at me and squeezed my hand. Suddenly, everything clicked back into place, and the nerves that had been terrorizing me for weeks vanished into mist.
Our escort came to a sudden halt at a white carved door. He paused, adjusted his height, then knocked once before entering the room.
“His Royal Highness Prince Nicholas and Ms. Duncan are here, ma’am.”
I couldn’t hear anything from within the room, but apparently, our guide did, as he stepped back and indicated that we should go inside.
My first impression of the large sitting room was that it was much cozier than I would’ve expected from a space this size. The walls were painted a serene light blue that complemented the yellow and gold of the furniture and the burgundy accents in the carpet. Tall windows let in streams of bright sunshine.
Standing between a brocade tufted loveseat and two upholstered chairs was a small woman with short white hair. She wore a long-sleeved dress with a floral pattern and sensible black shoes with low heels.
“Well, come in, come in.” Smiling broadly, she waved one hand at us. “Nicky, how are you, darling?”
Nicky took one quick step forward, executed a perfect bow and then strode toward his grandmother with arms outstretched. “Hello, Granny. You look lovely today.”
