Hazel.
Like Sophie’s.
With a touch of green.
Like Gill’s.
This must be Queen Louise. She was beautiful, and no broom was in sight. Much better than the ugly stepmother or wicked witch that Gill seemed to suggest his mother was.
Kat stood there, feeling on display. Each second her unease quadrupled.
Both women eyed her with wariness as if trying to decide if she should be allowed in their presence. Worse, as when she was with Gill, Kat felt as if she wasn’t measuring up to whatever standard the two held.
Her throat clogged.
She forced herself to swallow.
Neither the queen nor the duchess spoke. They didn’t move, either, making Kat think of eerie wax figures in a museum.
Unwilling to allow the silence to continue, Kat curtsied in front of the queen. “I’m Kat Parsons, ma’am.”
The queen pursued her lips. “You’re the American.”
The disdain in her voice put her son’s attitude to shame.
Kat’s stomach sank. Maybe Gill hadn’t been joking.
“Yes.” She hated the slight quiver in the one word.
“Thank goodness.” The other woman, who by default must be the Duchess of Darbyton, spoke with a thick Southern drawl. “I’m so glad I’m not the only red, white, and blue girl here.”
“Two against one.” Queen Louise didn’t sound worried at all. “Whatever shall I do?”
“You have your sweet baby girl.” The duchess’s smile never wavered, but if her face got any tighter, the skin might shatter like an eggshell. “That’ll even up the odds.”
The queen’s drawn-out sigh could inflate a dozen balloons. “Not quite because my daughter does whatever this one tells her.”
Uh-oh. Kat’s insides trembled. Whatever words came out of her mouth would likely be the wrong ones, so she kept quiet. But maybe it was time for Sophie to tell her family that she hadn’t been doing whatever Kat said all these years.
The queen picked something off the loveseat arm, though Kat hadn’t noticed anything there. “We all know this gown will be ghastly, but never fear, I have a gown that was sent from a designer in Paris and is ready for Sophie to try on.”
The duchess shook her head. “You leave nothing to chance, ma’am.”
The queen’s hard gaze narrowed on Kat. “Nothing at all.”
Queen Louise seemed so hard-nosed and critical. Granted, Kat had spent less than five minutes in her presence, but nothing about the woman was warm or nurturing.
The queen might like me.
Yeah, right.
Gill had warned Kat, but she hadn’t listened. No wonder he’d laughed at her.
Stupid.
But she wouldn’t forget his advice now.
Olga held open the cloth door covering. “May I present your bride, Princess Sophia of Alistonia.”
