For the rest of the afternoon, she and Mishka ran the ball up and down the green grass. She taught him to dribble and pass, and they were working on how to steal without pulling a foul when she heard a bell ringing from the house.
“That’s Mrs. Warner for dinner,” Mishka said. “She gives us thirty minutes warning to clean up, but we could probably play a while longer.”
“Time to quit.” Meredith paused to catch her breath. “I, for one, am tired, and I asked Mrs. Warner to give me a full hour so I can clean up a bit.” She smiled at him. “And you, Prince George, have the prospects of being quite a good player. You’re fast on your feet and smart. I have no doubt there is an athlete hiding in there somewhere.” She tapped him on the chest, making him giggle. “But what you have up here”—she tapped his forehead—“is of much more value. No matter what anyone tells you, don’t ever forget that.”
He shook his head with a serious expression. “I won’t.”
As they went upstairs, Meredith suggested Mishka could probably do with a shower too. “Since you’re supposed to be helping me to learn how royalty prepares for dinner.” When he balked, she reminded him that his grandmother would probably insist upon it. He nodded.
Relieved he was giving no flack, she went into her room, once again relishing the luxury and comfort of such a lovely suite. She suspected that whatever wages she was earning—and she actually didn’t know what they were—her daily pay probably wouldn’t be enough to cover a room like this in a beautiful Austrian villa like this. Even if she had to put up with a surly preteen, it was still worth it. Besides, she liked Kat. Something about the girl’s feisty spirit touched her. Maybe it reminded her of herself as a child, saddled with responsibilities of keeping their household running when she should’ve been outside playing. Well, she supposed she could relate on some levels. But Kat’s situation was perhaps even more stressful. She was expected to grow up into a queen. What would that feel like?
Meredith opened the wardrobe doors and was shocked to see it was full of clothes and shoes. Really nice clothes! She pulled out a hanger to look at a white shirt and examined the label. Expensive clothes! The styles were classic and basic—the sort of things she would’ve liked to wear if she could afford them. She opened bureau drawers to discover they’d been filled too. Sweaters and polo shirts and casual pants, even blue jeans and khaki shorts. One drawer had real silk pajamas and a pale blue summer nightie. There were even socks and underwear that looked brand new.
Mrs. Warner, the good fairy, must have been here. And although Meredith was determined to leave every item behind when it was time for her to leave, she thought she might put some of them to good use during her stay. To that end, she selected a conservative navy blue dress of soft rayon that seemedappropriate for a governess and a good choice for dinner with the prince and princess. Spying a pair of barely worn navy pumps on the shoe shelf, she knew they’d go with the dress. But what was the likelihood they would fit? Mrs. Warner had mentioned that Princess Katerina had been shorter and that could mean the princess had had smaller feet. They looked close, and the European sizing confirmed they were thirty-eight, just like her favorite Dansko clogs. Feeling like Cinderella, she kicked off a tennis shoe and slipped one on to see it was just right.
Strangely encouraged by this, she ran bath water. Okay, it was weird to think she would be wearing the clothes of the children’s dead mother. In fact, it was downright creepy, and she wasn’t even sure she could, or would, do it. But after a relaxing soak in fragrant bath salts, she decided to give it a whirl. She’d been wearing secondhand clothes from a thrift store, and there was no telling where those threads had come from. But what if the children figured it out? Mishka probably wouldn’t since he’d been only three when his mother passed away, but Kat had been eight. Still, as she fastened the metallic buttons on the loosely cut navy dress, she had to admit it was nondescript, and she doubted Kat would remember it. The girl didn’t seem particularly fashion conscious.
It was dinnertime, so she stepped out of the room. She still felt like an intruder in this house, but she reminded herself that she had every right to be here. She tapped on the door to Mishka’s room, and with no response, opened it. The play clothes and wet towel on the floor said that Mishka had been here and done as he’d been told, but apparently he’d already gone down. Good boy! Feeling like a counterintelligence agent, Meredith crossed the hallway to Kat’s room, where she knew she wouldn’t be welcomed. When Kat didn’t answer, she cracked open the door to spy Kat flopped across her bed, shoes and socks on the floor, but she still had on her athletic clothes.
“Kat,” Meredith kept her voice gentle. “Are you joining us for dinner?”
“Huh?” Kat looked up with a blank expression.
“You don’t look ready for dinner. Are you coming? Aren’t you hungry?”
“I guess.” Kat stood, pushing some unruly red hair from her face.
“Can you freshen up a little?” She waved to her own attire. “I’m trying to comply to royalty standards, but I’m not the one who will be queen someday.”
Kat rolled her eyes.
Meredith controlled herself from mentioning eye-rolling and ruling a kingdom might not be compatible. Instead, she went over to a wardrobe similar to the one in her room. A lot of nice clothes hung inside. She pulled out a flowered blouse. “This is pretty.”
“Ugh.” Kat made a gag expression.
“Okay.” Meredith went back, finally finding a pale-yellow oxford shirt. “How about this?” Now she removed a denim skirt. “This is cute.” She held them up together to show Kat, and the girl’s brow creased with interest.
“I’m guessing it wouldn’t be acceptable for a princess dining with the queen, but I’m okay with it here. If you are.” She reached over to lay a hand on Kat’s shoulder. “I mean, you’re the expert here. You know far more about all this royal protocol than I do. But Mrs. Warner did tell me that we’re expected to dress for dinner in the dining room.”
“All right.” Kat snatched the shirt and skirt. “I’ll be down in a few.”
Meredith wasn’t sure if this was a win or loss, but she didn’t know that there was much more she could do, and she wasn’t about to strong-arm that girl. For one thing, Kat probably hadmore muscle on her, and for the other thing, other than athletics, Meredith was by nature a peacemaker. She always had been.
But Mishka and Meredith had barely sat down when Kat came and sat with ahumph. At least she had changed.
“I really like that color on you,” Meredith said.
Kat scowled.
“It brings out the color of your hair, which I think is lovely.”
“Really?” Kat glared at her.
“Definitely. It’s unique. I’ve always hated that I had such boring hair. Not really brown. Not really blonde. And I had a friend who told me it was dishwater blonde.” She frowned.
“And that was a friend?” Kat looked interested.
“Yeah. That hurt.”
