Playing the Royal Game

‘You have things to do here.’

‘I’m dying here,’ Allegra said.

‘Stop with the dramatics. You keep insisting you are busy with your book.’ There was an aggrieved note to his voice, for her book kept her up late each night, her book made sure he was asleep on the damned sofa by the time she came to bed. Still they could not discuss things further, for the door knocked and Alex called for the maid to enter.

‘Just coffee?’ Allegra frowned when they pretended to wake after the maid had brought in the trolley. ‘Where’s breakfast?’

‘You didn’t take too long to adjust to the lifestyle.’ Alex smirked. ‘My parents have asked that we join them for breakfast—they want to go over wedding plans. You still need to select a designer for your gown.’

‘It seems rather a waste,’ Allegra said. ‘Given we’re both hoping I shan’t be wearing it—and anyway,’ she admitted, ‘there’s nothing for me to select, they’re all the same.’ She heard the whine in her voice and halted herself. Had it really come to this, sitting up in bed with the most beautiful view on God’s earth, next to the most stunning man, and complaining about designers? Over and over she had to check herself, tell herself she had nothing to complain about—it was just that she missed him. Missed the man she had met in London so very much, missed the glimpse of the dream.

‘Why breakfast?’ Allegra asked, because it was all so formal. Why did this family have to arrange a simple conversation?

‘Because my father has commitments all day and I am flying out tonight.’

‘And I’m stuck here...’ There was that whine again, and even she couldn’t bear to hear it, so she put down her cup and climbed out of bed, lay in the bath that the maid had run and tried to calm down, tried not to think of the real reason for his regular jaunts to London—as if a man like Alex would sleep alone for long.

Breakfast was excruciating, from the moment she sat down and selected her favourite croissant.

‘Actually,’ Zoe said as Allegra smeared strawberry jam over it. ‘I’ve had a word with the chefs and they’re going be preparing a light selection for you, Allegra.’

‘Excuse me?’

‘In preparation for the wedding.’

‘You think I need to lose weight?’ She waited for Zoe to retract from the mild confrontation, but instead the queen just smiled.

‘You have put a little on.’

Allegra couldn’t believe her ears. She was slim, always had been. Her father was forever telling her she needed to put weight on.

‘Leave it,’ Alex said, thankfully to the queen and not to Allegra.

‘I’m just trying to help. You know the pressure she’s going to be under—the people expect perfection. I don’t want Allegra feeling awkward on the day. It’s hard for her, I realise that—she has sudden twenty-four-hour access to top class chefs.... I’m just suggesting that, before it becomes an issue, she nip things in the bud.’

‘Well, don’t.’ Alex’s voice was loaded with warning, as, too, was the look that he shot his mother. His eyes, though, were surprisingly kind when they turned to her. ‘Ignore that,’ he said. ‘Just completely dismiss it—you look wonderful.’ His eyes held hers and she wished for the hundredth time that he meant it, that the public facade was real.

‘You need to choose a designer for your dress.’ Zoe didn’t exactly change the subject, but at least she moved away from Allegra’s waistline.

‘I know... I just...’ She hated all the suggestions, hated them because they were all just a slightly different version of the same. She’d been told, too, to grow out her fringe so that she could wear a more traditional hairstyle. ‘I’ve got a couple more to see this week. What about you?’ Allegra asked her fiancé, who was clearly bored senseless by the conversation.

‘I’ll be wearing military uniform.’ He looked at her non-comprehending face. ‘I did several years’ service, and given it is our family the soldiers serve...’ He didn’t even bother finishing his sentence, just picked up his ringing phone and carried on a brief conversation.