Forbidden Desire(11)

But I’m a commoner, I want to say.

I find myself being shepherded to the table. My eyes are riveted upon the extremely beautiful dark-haired woman at the head of the table. I can totally see Alex’s features on her. She’s clad in a lilac woolen jacket and matching skirt, and her round buttons are gold.

She does not get up as we approach.

“Mother,” says Alex, leaning over to give her a kiss on the cheek.

“Good of you to join us, Alexander,” she clips in an American accent. I remember that Alex’s mother is an American heiress to one of the largest fortunes in the world.

“Well, we were suffering from jetlag. And this is Elizabeth, my girlfriend.”

OK.

Now my knees are wobbling like Jell-O. Did he just introduce me as his girlfriend? Talk about opening a can of worms.

The Queen’s sharp blue eyes are not amused. Nevertheless, she holds out a be-ringed hand. Sapphires and diamonds flash on her fingers.

“G-good evening, your Majesty,” I splutter, taking her outstretched hand.

She appraises me without a smile. “So you are the girl who has taken Alexander away from us for a whole month.”

Bad, bad start. She’s already predisposed to hate me.

“She didn’t take me away, Mother. Quite the opposite. I persuaded her to come with me when she didn’t want to.”

“It will be quite the story, I imagine.” She waves at the table. “Please, don’t stand on my accord.”

“No kiss for your little sister whom you haven’t seen in over a year?” pipes up a voice.

I’m so bowled over by the beauteous austerity of the Queen that I’ve almost forgotten her companion.

“Of course, little sister.” Alex leans down to kiss the cheek of a slender, willowy brunette who also looks remarkably like him. I take it that she is his youngest sister, Claire – the one in a Swiss finishing school.

Claire regards me coolly out of her vivid blue eyes. I try to keep the tremor from crippling my gait as I take the seat on the other side of the table next to Alex. Such a long table for just four people, and we are all crowded at one end.

“Claire, this is Liz. Liz, my sister Claire.”

Claire says, “So you are Alex’s girlfriend. This is the first time he has told us about you.” She has a distinctively French accent, although her English is impeccable.

I don’t know what to say, so Alex answers for me, “Yes, she is.”

Four waiters come in to serve four identical bowls of steaming soup in front of us. My place setting is made of Chantilly lace, and the cutlery is gleaming silver, polished to perfection. I can see my face reflected on the spoon.

“And so what happens to Tatiana?” the Queen says. “You cast her off like this right after your father has made the announcement? We have made no official statement to the public, and as far as your father is concerned, you are still officially engaged.”

I look at my soup, and despite my grumbling stomach, I suddenly feel queasy.

Claire is eyeing me with curiosity. “Is that my sister’s dress?”

Uh oh.

“We borrowed it because Liz has nothing formal to wear,” Alex says, glaring at her.

“I hope she won’t mind,” I manage to say. My voice wavers, and I’m aware that I’m doing a piss poor job of winning over Alex’s family. Come on, Liz, you’re better than this. I straighten my slumped shoulders and add, “She has gorgeous clothes.”

“I should hope so,” Claire says, “seeing as she spends half the kingdom’s coffers shopping in Paris and Milan. Mother, how come I don’t get that much spending money?”

“It’s because you’re still seventeen. When you turn twenty-one, you’ll have your own clothing allowance.”

“Yes, but I still need to look good in school.”

“You do not need to look that good. It’s school, not a charity fete.”

“Mother, half the girls have better trousseaus that I do.”

“That’s not true and that will be enough on the subject, darling.” The Queen turns to me. I remember reading that her maiden name is Emily Grant, and she is the sole heir to the Grant empire – a sprawling multibillion dollar worldwide conglomerate of newspapers, TV channels and movie studios. The Grants may own a large chunk of the media, but even they cannot block negative press, it seems. “So tell me, Elizabeth, what do you do?”

“I go to college.”

I’m sure Jasper has already briefed her all about me, and this is merely dinner conversation. Or a test. I think I have calmed down sufficiently to maintain a normal conversation. I mean, they are already predisposed to dislike me intensely, right? Whatever I do or say won’t change that.