Royal Renegade by Alicia Rasley

Author:Alicia Rasley [Alicia Rasley]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Midsummer Books
Published: 2011-12-14T13:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

"I hope I didn't catch the royal grippe. I cannot believe I actually kissed the queen's hand just after she blew her nose into that little scrap of lace handkerchief." Tatiana sniffed inquiringly, then, when her nose showed no symptoms of illness, she dropped with a sigh onto the tufted satin bench in her dressing room. "It does show the power of royal precedence, I suppose. When she extended that damp hand, I could not find the moral courage to decline the honor, even at the risk of my health."

Buntin stalked up behind her and with rather more force than necessary pulled the diamond tiara and ostrich plume out of the princess's curls. "You mustn't speak of the Queen of England so disrespectfully," she hissed, casting a worried glance back at the wardrobe. But only the countess's ample backside clad in royal purple was visible, the rest of her having disappeared into Tatiana's extensive collection of evening dresses. Lady Sherbourne had only two hours before they were due at yet another royal presentation, this time to the Prince Regent, and she had changed her mind yet again on the princess's apparel.

The princess's hand went to soothe her smarting scalp, but Buntin ignored her piteous wince and spirited the jewelry away to its locked box. The presentation to the queen in the royal boudoir had not been a great success, as far as Tatiana could tell. Wellesley and Lady Sherbourne had given her a list of verboten subjects—the war, the Romanov family, the queen's motley crew of children, the poor mad king—so lengthy that Tatiana found herself without a thing to say, a novel experience to say the least. And the few commonplaces she did attempt were greeted with an uncomprehending frown by the queen, who professed herself unable to understand a word the Russian princess spoke. As Tatiana was vain about the purity of her accent, she had to bite her tongue to keep from commenting that her majesty's harsh Germanic consonants hardly did credit to the language of Shakespeare.

But at least the queen had said, "Fery nice, kirl," when Tatiana dropped into her deep curtsey. And that made Buntin beam. She herself had schooled Tatiana for years in the requirements of the British royal presentation, never truly believing her lessons would be put to the test. In fact, as uninspiring as the event had been for Tatiana, this had been without a doubt the xenith of Buntin's existence. The vicar's daughter from Elham had met the Queen of England.

Tatiana watched now in the mirror as Buntin removed the white plume from her own faded fair hair. The companion smoothed the delicate feathers with a gentle finger, her eyes full with dreaming. Suddenly Tatiana was very glad she had insisted that Buntin be rigged out in the absurd hooped gown and plumes required for such a ceremony. Lady Sherbourne had termed it inappropriate to take a mere companion along. But she had not reckoned with Tatiana's stubborn refusal to leave the house without her dear Buntin.

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