Playing the Royal Game
‘I just miss everyone,’ Allegra admitted. ‘I feel as if I’ve dropped off the face of the earth and that no one’s actually noticed, that no one even cares.’
‘Come here.’ He stood and she frowned up at him. ‘I want to show you something.’ He pulled her pashmina from the chair and wrapped it around her shoulders, and then took her elbow and led her, a bit wobbly, out of the room, down a long corridor and then down a flight of stairs to a vast set of French windows. ‘Do you still think no one cares?’
She looked out to the entrance of the palace where there were hundreds and hundreds of flowers laid at the palace gates. Some of the bouquets were formal, but there were also hundreds of posies of little blue stars and it was those that meant the most. ‘They’re for you,’ Alex told her. ‘The people heard you’d had a fall and they have been bringing them for the past two days. There are bouquets being delivered hourly—they are down in the drawing room, in the dining room—’
‘For me?’
‘We’ve never seen anything like it,’ Alessandro admitted. ‘The papers did not exaggerate or lie—our people really do love you.’
And it helped, it really did help, made the madness of the situation just a touch more bearable, but as she headed back to bed, he gave her a thin smile. ‘I am heading to London. I’ve been putting it off, but now that you’re feeling better... It’ll just be for a couple of weeks, I’ll be back for the concert.’
‘Weeks?’
‘There is a lot to be done and I cannot put off Razim again.’
So he would be out tomorrow night with Belinda. And she didn’t have the excuse of a commozione cerebrale. She had no choice but to lie there and hold on to her feelings, but as he stood he gave her shoulder a brotherly squeeze and then left her. She almost heard the sigh of relief as he closed the bedroom door behind him.
Well, what did she expect? Allegra thought as she lay there. Of course he’d be on the first flight out.
The people might love her; it was the prince who seemed to find it impossible to.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
SHE couldn’t go out while he was away—not because of the strict orders from the palace, more because of the egg on her forehead. So she mooched around the palace, trying not to imagine him out with the hard-nailed Belinda. She rang Izzy, but just got her voice mail, and Angel wasn’t responding to her emails either. Allegra looked up when the maid knocked on her door.
‘Raymondo is here.’
‘Raymond!’ corrected a loud, rather effeminate voice. She was so bored looking at wedding dresses, especially when she had no intention of even wearing it. She had to really make an effort to look enthusiastic as Raymond walked in and she waited, waited for the entourage behind him, for the swatches of white fabric, but all it was was him, not even a sketch pad.
‘They always do that,’ he said by way of introduction. ‘They think it makes me sound more exotic!’ He was from London too, and she nearly fell on his neck at the sound of his familiar accent. ‘So, let’s get started. What are your thoughts?’ he asked. She drew in a breath, ready to give the appropriate answer when Raymond cut it. ‘Actually, I’ve already been briefed. White Santina lace, yawn, yawn...’
Was it wrong that she giggled?
‘In at the waist, full skirt, long train...’ He rolled his eyes and perhaps saw the sparkle of tears in hers. ‘It’s your wedding day, my dear—’ he handed her a tissue ‘—I promise I will make you look beautiful.’
‘I know.’ Allegra sniffed. ‘Sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.’ She tapped her forehead, tried to blame it on the bruise.
‘Maybe you’re just marrying the Crown Prince of Santina,’ Raymond said wisely. ‘It must be the most terrible pressure for an ordinary girl.’ And he said ordinary so nicely, in a completely different way to Alex, but there was that word again, and along with it more tears.
‘You know there are two dresses,’ Raymond said. ‘One as a backup in case my innovative white Santina lace in-at-the-waist dress design is leaked out.’