Page 115 of Christmas at the Castle
Do. Not. Cause. A. Scene.
That had been drilled into her enough times by Talia that Kat managed to say a polite word or two to several guests who spoke to her on the way out of the ballroom. She’d never been more relieved to see an exit.
Driven by the threat of tears, she accelerated. At the curved staircase, she ran. She kept running until she reached her room.
So much for being a princess at the royal wedding ball. She couldn’t even pass for Cinderella.
Kat stared at her reflection in the full-length mirror. She looked worse than an ugly stepsister.
Not even the best dry cleaner in the country could salvage the beautiful gown.
But she couldn’t sit up here and mope.
This was Sophie’s big night.
The gown might be ruined, but Kat needed to put on a smile, a new dress, and return downstairs.
A knock sounded at the door. “It’s Liv.”
“Come in.”
Liv raced into the room. She wore a black dress with a white apron. “Let me help you change.”
“Thank you.” She turned so Liv could unhook the back of the dress. “I have no idea what I’ll wear. Nothing I have is fancy enough for a royal ball.”
Liv studied her. “I may have something. It’s a little out there.”
“I don’t care,” Kat admitted. “Anything would be better than a plain little black dress. That’s my only option.”
“This isn’t plain, and it is…royal.” Liv unzipped the bridesmaid gown. “I’ll be right back.”
As the door closed behind Liv, Kat went into the bathroom. She peeled the wine-soaked gown from her body and then wiped off the wine with a wet washcloth.
Kat waited to hear another knock on the door, but none came.
Sophie couldn’t leave her own wedding, but Gill could. She thought he might come to her room to check on her. Wasn’t that what people who cared about each other did?
Except…
He would be dancing with Rowena.
Under the watchful gaze of Queen Louise.
Kat’s stomach roiled.
I don’t need to be rescued by a prince.
And she didn’t.
What had Gill said?
You are more than capable of taking care of yourself and everyone around you.
Kat squared her shoulders. She was, and she would.
She would put on Liv’s dress, march downstairs to the ballroom, and pretend nothing had happened.
For Sophie. For Gill. And for herself.
