From Convent To Queen by Millie Adams

Author:Millie Adams [Adams, Millie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Published: 2026-02-26T00:00:00+00:00

* * *

He had managed to avoid her other than the few times he had been pulled into her orbit during the planning of the event. She had asked him to consult on the menu. That had been interesting.

Truth be told, he hadn’t expanded his palate much beyond meat and potatoes. And meat had been a luxury for many years. Not always guaranteed.

But she was asking him to try seafood and pastries, hors d’oeuvres and tiny cakes that looked like they would be at home in a bakery window.

In fact, looking at the tray had given him a visceral memory of walking by a bakery in a small town very soon after the coup.

He had pushed it aside, and hadn’t allowed himself to make any connections between the past and the food in front of him.

But now it was the night before the ball, and he could no longer outrun her.

“There are three suits for you to choose from,” she said.

“I had thought that I would wear a military uniform.”

“I appreciate your commitment,” she said. “But I think that in the spirit of the evening you should go with a suit.”

As if this had been timed, a tailor came through the doors of the study, with a rack full of suits.

Well. She wanted to do this, so she could stay.

He took his shirt off, and turned to the rack of suits. “What is the difference between these?”

He looked back at Fern, who was staring, eyes wide.

“If you do not wish to be involved,” he said.

“I’m going to be involved,” she responded.

He undid the buckle on his belt, worked it through the loops, and then cast it onto the floor. Then he took his pants off, which left him standing there in his black undergarments. And he could sense her eyes on him.

He looked at her again; her face was bright red, but she wasn’t backing down, and certainly wasn’t making a move to leave.

Well. It turned out he was not above a little manipulation himself. Not that he was trying to get her to do anything. It was only that he was proving to himself that she wanted him. And that it wasn’t simply a tactic on her part. The look on her face made it clear.

“There are three different styles,” the tailor said. “A more traditional tuxedo, a suit and then a slightly more modern choice.”

“Traditional,” he said.

“That is shocking,” Fern said.

“Is that a commentary on how predictable you find me, my queen?”

“Perhaps,” she said. “But you should know that I’m not shy about making commentary. I said exactly what I meant.”

“Of this I am aware.”

“I think you should do the suit,” she said. “I think it will feel more natural to you. More black. Less cummerbund.”

He lifted a brow. “I’m not even sure what cummerbund is.”

The tailor took a strip of shiny fabric off the rack.

“It’s this.”

“No,” he said, the rejection easy.

“I thought I might have guessed correctly.”

Which was how he found himself being dressed, and his wife watching all the while.

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