He gave a laugh. ‘Well, in that case. I can either take you somewhere to shop and buy you something new, or you could talk to my sister, who has a wardrobe that covers three rooms—or, you can speak to my mother. She has a bit of a collection of ball gowns from throughout the years. Truth is, in other circumstances I think my mother would be known as a hoarder.’
Arissa blinked her tired eyes. ‘How long do I have?’
He pulled a face. ‘Less than two days,’ he admitted.
She raised her eyebrows. ‘What?’ Now her eyes opened completely. ‘Philippe Aronaz, you’re giving me less than two days to find a ball gown for an event that will be filled with your family and friends?’
He shifted on the leather seat of the car. ‘Yip. That would be about right.’
She nodded her head then gave him a sideways glance. ‘Okay, so you’re offering to take me to a ball where I can be on your arm, dance my heart out, and not worry about it being in the news?’ She folded her hands in her lap. ‘I haven’t even met your mother yet—how can I ask to wear one of her old gowns?’
He shook his head. ‘She’s not been here. She’s been in Austria. She’ll be back tomorrow, and I can promise you right now that she’ll be delighted if you wear one of her gowns. Every year she tries to persuade my sister to pick something from her collection.’
Arissa rested her head back on his shoulder. ‘Okay, Philippe, you have a room full of dresses and you’ve invited me to a ball in the palace. It’s like you jumped into my childhood and found one of my kids’ fairy stories. How on earth could any girl say no to an invitation like that?’
He couldn’t help but smile as a warm feeling spread through him. She’d said yes. It was the first time he’d ever taken someone to his mother’s annual ball. He’d taken a variety of partners to various palace events throughout the years. Ones when he’d needed someone on his arm, at a time when he’d been expected to court the media. But he’d never taken anyone to his mother’s private ball. This one was entirely different. He moved slightly, adjusting Arissa in his arms.
She smiled with her eyes still closed. ‘Now, wake me up when we get back to the palace.’
* * *
The maid had shown her up to the room on the first floor of the palace. She gave a little gasp as she stepped into the large space. The walls were pale yellow and the large windows allowed light to stream into the room.
On one side of the room, away from the light of the windows, were row upon row of a multitude of dresses all shrouded in protective covers. The dresses were arranged like a rainbow with one range of colours flowing into the others.
Arissa’s mouth fell open as she wandered along the rows, her hands reaching up to touch the odd dress to examine it a little closer.
The maid smiled. ‘They’re beautiful, aren’t they?’ She moved alongside Arissa. ‘Is there a particular style you like best, or you find the most flattering? Or is there a colour you like best? I know all the dresses,’ she said casually. ‘I can probably point you in the right direction.’
It was like being the proverbial child in a sweet shop. Arissa’s eyes were practically on stalks as she wandered along the rows. ‘There’s just so many,’ she said in wonder. The maid shot her a smile and settled down in a chair in the corner of the room. There was a huge mirror on the wall close to her, along with a circular velvet curtain that swept around to give a private dressing area. This whole room was dedicated to the enjoyment of trying on these dresses. Every little girl’s dream.
After a while she shook her head and held out her hands. ‘The truth is, I have no idea where to start. I’ve never been to a ball—I don’t know what’s suitable and what’s not.’
The maid came and stood in front of her, not hiding the fact that her discerning eye was sweeping up and down Arissa’s frame.
‘Will anything even fit me?’ Arissa asked self-consciously.
The maid gave a smile. ‘I think just about everything here will fit you. And if it doesn’t? No problem. We have a seamstress on hand who can tweak any dress.’ She put her hand to her mouth. ‘Now...’ she said. This time she started to walk around Arissa. ‘What’s your favourite part of yourself, and your least favourite part?’
Arissa tilted her head.
The maid smiled and continued. ‘There’s a whole bounty of dresses in here that I think will be perfect. But it’s you that’s wearing this dress, and you need to love it enough that you feel comfortable in it. There’s no point in me making a suggestion of a dress with a low back if you feel self-conscious about showing skin.’
Arissa gave a nod. ‘Okay, I understand. Nothing too revealing for me, then, please. And I’m a little on the short side.’ She ran her hand across her stomach. ‘And this is probably my worst bit, so nothing that clings too much and shows what I had for dinner.’
The maid laughed. She held out her hands to the array of rainbow dresses. ‘You still haven’t told me your favourite colour.’
Arissa looked down at the red shirt she was wearing today. ‘I guess I like all colours. Preferably not black or white.’
The door opened and the maid turned in surprise. ‘Your Majesty, forgive me. I wasn’t aware you had returned.’ She gestured towards Arissa. ‘I was just helping Prince Philippe’s guest select a dress for the ball.’
Arissa’s feet had found themselves frozen to the floor. She watched as an elegant woman with her fine blonde hair swept up in a chignon came into the room. Her eyes met Arissa’s and she gave her a wide smile.
‘Ah-h, the doctor.’ She walked towards Arissa with her arms outstretched. ‘So you’re the woman my son has been talking about so much.’
‘I am?’ She was stunned. She wasn’t even sure Philippe would have mentioned her at all to his mother.
‘Maria Aronaz,’ said the woman, clasping Arissa’s hands in hers. Panic flooded through Arissa. Was she supposed to bow, curtsey? What did you do around royalty these days? How did you even address them?
Her brain focused on the maid’s words. She dipped her head a little. ‘It’s a pleasure to meet you, Your Majesty. Thank you for welcoming me into your home.’
The woman kept her hands on Arissa’s. Her eyes were warm but Arissa knew that the Queen was inspecting her to see if she was worthy of her son’s attention. ‘You are indeed beautiful,’ the Queen said quietly as she squeezed Arissa’s hands. ‘And I hear that your home is as beautiful as ours.’ She was watching Arissa carefully. ‘Philippe has an enormous job ahead of him. Probably harder than the roles of his brother and sister.’
Arissa gave an uncomfortable gulp. The role of potential King would be hard enough, and being part of a finance committee wouldn’t exactly be easy either. The Queen continued, ‘Things are going to have to change in Corinez, and Philippe will have to weather the storm that comes alongside making changes. It would be good if he could have someone alongside him who shared his vision and understood the tasks he had ahead.’
Silence. Arissa couldn’t even gulp. What exactly did the Queen mean? Her gaze felt so examining. She patted Arissa’s hand. ‘You know, he’s never brought anyone home for this ball before.’
She turned towards her maid. ‘Have you picked something for Arissa yet?’
The maid shook her head. ‘Not yet, Your Majesty. That was our next step.’
The Queen pulled her hands back and gave them a little clap. ‘Good, I haven’t missed the fun part.’ She walked up and down the rows, giving the dresses a critical and appraising look. ‘No, no, no, too dark, too severe. Too out of fashion.’
The Queen picked out a few dresses. ‘This one, this one and, perhaps, this one. Oh, and this one too.’
Arissa was a little stunned and she couldn’t help but smile. Every one of the dresses was by a female designer. The Queen waved away the maid and carried the dresses over herself to the curtained area. Red, blue, green and silver. Each one completely different from the other.
She gave a gentle wave of her hand but had an excited gleam in her eyes as she turned around. ‘Come on, Arissa, what are you waiting for? Let’s try on some dresses.’
* * *
Philippe was nervous. He could hear the murmur of voices downstairs. Guests had been arriving for the ball for the last half-hour. His brother and sister were already greeting people on arrival, and normally he would be doing that too. Instead, he’d spent the last thirty minutes immersed in a conference call to three other countries about their maternity services. He was gathering as much information as he could. He had to, if he wanted to make things a success.
He glanced at his watch as he hurried down the corridor towards Arissa’s rooms. Her door was wide open and she was silhouetted as she stood at the large window, looking out over the gardens.
His breath caught somewhere in his throat as she spun around towards him. She was wearing a dark green gown with a sequined bodice, gauze shoulders and a fluttering straight tulle skirt. It complemented her skin perfectly. Her only jewellery was a gold choker at her throat. She lifted her fingers to it self-consciously as she took a few steps towards him. ‘What do you think? Your mother gave me it to wear.’ She glanced downwards. ‘Isabella Hugo designed it when she was still up and coming. Isn’t it beautiful?’ She gave her head a shake, as if she couldn’t believe things. ‘Your mother was amazing. In fact, she helped me pick this whole outfit.’
She lifted her gaze to meet his. Her hair wasn’t coiffed or styled, it was in the natural curls that she always wore and suited her best. She was wearing a little make-up; he could see the mascara opening out her eyes, and the lipstick on her lips. But even wearing the designer dress and the royal jewellery she still looked entirely like Arissa. She still looked entirely his.