Page 51 of Christmas at the Castle
“No, I wanted to dress up for dinner.” She glanced at the papers on the desk. “You’re correct. That American girl is going to be a problem.”
He’d heard Kat’s take on their meeting. Now he would get his mother’s. “Did something happen at the fitting?”
His mother walked to the window that overlooked a three-tiered fountain. “Your sister’s wedding gown turned out better than I expected. I’m returning the backup dress. I’m positive your sister would have thrown a temper tantrum had I mentioned the existence of another wedding gown.”
“Sophie’s always wanted Olga to design her dress.”
His mother shrugged, but Gill thought there was more to her feelings about this. He’d always thought she was jealous of Sophie’s relationship with her nanny.
“The design is sentimental and nothaute couture, but your sister has never had much fashion sense.”
Sophie had been named one of theTop 10 Best Dressed Royalsfor the past ten years, but their mother chose not to recognize the honors because his sister didn’t wear the styles the queen wanted.
“I wasn’t asking about Sophie’s dress,” he said. “I want to know what happened with Kat.”
Lines creased his mother’s forehead. “Who?”
Gill sighed. “The American.”
“Oh, her. I’d forgotten her name.”
That seemed unlikely given Sophie had mentioned Kat’s name at least twice a day, usually many times more, for the past fifteen years.
“What did Kat do at the fitting to raise your concerns?” he asked.
His mother glanced up at the tall ceiling. Probably looking for a cobweb the staff had missed. Complaints fell from her lips more than compliments these days. She’d been picky before his father’s death, but grief had brought out a bitterness that not even time could ease.
She’d been queen since she was twenty-eight and promised to abdicate once Gill married. The only reason she wouldn’t give up the throne until he wed was because, as the reining ruler, she had the authority to approve his bride choice. If he were king, he could approve his own.
“The woman didn’t do anything per se, but she acts like she’s one of us already. Speaking out of turn. Forgetting etiquette and protocol rules.”
“She’s American. She may not know them.”
“She’s in Alistonia. She should act accordingly.”
Gill understood his mother’s point, but he also knew how Kat had interacted with Sophie all these years—as friends. The same with him at camp.
“The woman is also playing the role of bridesmaid so perfectly that your sister is enthralled by her friend’s presence,” his mother continued. “When Sophie appeared in her gown, tears filled that woman’s eyes, and she lavished praise without a thought to what the duchess or I might want to say.”
Gill was not a fan of Kat Parsons. Far from it, but his mother seemed hypercritical, more so than usual. “I believe that’s what bridesmaids are supposed to do.”
“Yes, but…” Her gaze clouded. “I fear the American has her sights set on you.”
He thought about what Sophie had said yesterday and how Kat had interacted with him since she arrived. Granted, Kat could be misleading his sister and him. “I don’t know about that.”
“Everyone knows you’re the best catch among the peerage.”
Her words brought a smile to his face. She sounded more like a mother than a queen. “Other princes might disagree with that statement.”
“I may have a slight bias.”
More than slight, but he knew better than to say that.
“I don’t think you have to worry, Mother. Kat hasn’t sought me out.”
If anything, he was the one seeking her out in her bedroom last night and in the sitting room today.
His mother tapped a finger against her cheek. “The woman could be playing hard to get. Or she could have enlisted Sophie to take part in a royal romance scheme.”
