At a loss for words once again, she cast her eyes down. “Speaking of the royal dinner,” she said, rubbing her palms over her pants, “I’m worried I haven’t brought the right clothes.”
“The right clothes?”
“My law student wardrobe isn’t exactly fit for royalty. Do you think the queen will mind? I mean, I might be having flashbacks to scenes inDownton Abbey, but I don’t want to insult anyone by dressing too casually. I only own two skirts. Plain ones, like I wore today. To be honest, I live in blue jeans most of the time.”
“I do too, when I’m not working.”
“But really, how should I dress for dinner? What will the queen expect? I’d like to get off on the right foot with her.”
He frowned. “Honestly?”
“Yes,” she said, “honestly.” She was surprised by her candidness with Anton but felt she could trust him.
“I’m no expert, but the women at palace dinners usually dress”—he gave her current outfit a once-over—“a bit more formally.”
“Like gowns and jewels?” She grimaced.
“No, no. Not for a casual dinner. Maybe a skirt or dress. Not trousers. The queen is old-fashioned like that.”
“Okay. I’ll change back into my skirt.”
He held up his index finger. “Although ... there is a women’s shop on the other end of town—my aunt’s favorite. I believe the queen shops there. If you like, we could stop, and you could look around. We can save the palace tour for tomorrow.”
She bit her lip. Her bank account was low on cash. She did have her emergency credit card, but this wasn’t an emergency.
“I’m no fashion expert, Adelaide, but your concern about appearances is a valid one,” he said. “After all, you are a princess. Knowing Queen Johanna, you can be certain she will critique your wardrobe. And I doubt she will offer assistance.”
Adelaide considered this. Perhaps it was an emergency. She really didn’t want to get on the queen’s bad side the first time they met. If nothing else, she’d do it for the sake of King Max. She could imagine him jumping to her defense, and she hated to put him under more stress. “Yes, I think you’re right. I’d like to visit that shop if you don’t mind.”
“Not at all.”
Neither of them spoke as he turned the car in the opposite direction. When they arrived in town, finding a place to park proved difficult, so he stopped in the street and nodded toward a swanky-looking shop. “It’s called Stilvoll,” he said. “German for stylish.”
“Just what I need.” She heard her own sarcasm.
“Go ahead and look around while I park and make a phone call. I’ll be in shortly.”
Feeling very much like a fish out of water, Adelaide entered what appeared to be a very chic and expensive store. A well-dressed woman politely greeted her in German.
“Do you speak English?”
“Ja.” She nodded eagerly. “You are not from here?”
“I’m an American, and I need a dress. Not a formal gown. Just a nice dress for a nice dinner. Do you have something like that?”
“Ja, ja, of course.” She led her toward the back, indicating a rack of dresses of various styles, lengths, and fabrics. Adelaide peeked at a few of the tags, but the size numbers made no sense.
“Can you help me with sizes?” Adelaide asked.
The woman looked her up and down. “You are like my size, I think. Thirty-six or perhaps thirty-eight.”
“Really?” Adelaide frowned. “That sounds too large.”
“Thirty-six is American size eight.”
“Oh.” She nodded. “Okay.”
The saleswoman pointed to a section on the rack, then peered intently at Adelaide. “Green is good on you? Good with your eyes.”
