Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 117920 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 590(@200wpm)___ 472(@250wpm)___ 393(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117920 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 590(@200wpm)___ 472(@250wpm)___ 393(@300wpm)
He looks so sinfully handsome that it takes my breath away.
His perpetually tanned skin against his navy-blue suit, perfectly tailored of course, and white shirt. His hair is a little longer now, shining in the bright sunshine and swooped to one side.
He passes by us and gives us a little nod and then his eyes meet mine. Then they trail down my blouse, sash, skirt, and back up to the white bonnet pinned to my head.
And he laughs.
The bastard laughs.
In front of everyone.
Dick.
Then he quickly covers it up and turns to the crowd, clearing his throat, before he greets them all.
My Danish at this point is good enough that I understand most of the speech and it totally helps that over the last few days, I’ve been sneaking into his room to go over the speech with him, helping him practice. He talks about the country’s pride and prosperity, he talks about freedom and traditions and culture, he talks about families and today’s youth.
All in all, it’s a stirring speech, and he’s just as magnetic with the crowd as he was with me in practice, and the crowd seems to be just as in love with him as I am.
“You’ve done such a good job with him,” Maja whispers to me, briefly placing her hand on mine.
I’m surprised at her affection. “He’s the one who wrote the speech.”
“Not just with that,” she says. “With everything. This is not the same King that gave a speech last year. This is a different man. This is a man who sits on a throne and inspires a country. This is who he was always meant to be.”
I swallow hard. “I guess it takes time to come into your own.”
“It does,” she says softly, giving my hand a squeeze. “But let’s not pretend he hasn’t had the help.”
I stare at her, wondering if she could possibly know what’s going on between us. We’ve been so careful with each other, even though Maja is as sharp as a tack.
But if she does know, then it obviously doesn’t bother her.
She’s probably just thanking you for your nanny duties, don’t get carried away.
So I don’t.
When the ceremony and speeches with Aksel, the Prime Minister, and some local celebrity (which, sadly, wasn’t Viggo Mortensen) ends, everyone goes their separate ways to prepare for the ball.
My job, as usual, is to watch the girls and keep them out of trouble.
My job is also to sequester Snarf Snarf into a guest bathroom on the third floor, just to keep him out of people’s way. It’s not an easy job since the bigger the pig gets, the more aversion he has to stairs, and I practically have to carry the giant beast all the way up.
Point is, I’m a mess and I’m a wreck and suddenly going to bed early seems like a better alternative to going to this royal ball.
“Girls,” I call out to them. I’m collapsed in what feels like a bottomless beanbag chair in their room, while they sit on the floor, Clara reading a story to Freja in Danish. “You don’t really want to go to this party, do you?”
“Yes we do, we go every year,” Clara says and without skipping a beat, goes back to reading out loud.
“I don’t even have anything to wear.”
“Why don’t you wear what you wore earlier,” Freja says, snickering. “Papa thought you looked funny.”
I groan. He did. That was his plan all along. And I still haven’t had a moment alone with him to kick him in the shins.
But the truth is, I don’t have anything to wear. For some reason I thought I would be wearing a costume to the ball and now that I know that’s not happening, I’m left with my own clothes and I’ve got nothing except miniskirts.
I sigh and text Henrik, who is probably super busy right now driving food and party supplies back and forth, but I do it anyway. Since I can’t leave the girls, and I’m not about to take them into a clothing store, I ask if Henrik can pick up a dress during one of his errands. I tell him my size and tell him I don’t want anything too clingy around my stomach because I don’t want to show off the little belly I’ve gained thanks to endless potatoes and rye bread. Really, I just want him to pick something that will fit in with the ball. He’ll know better than I do.
He doesn’t come back with the dress until way late. We skipped dinner because Karla and the cooks have been so busy with appetizers and drinks for the ball, so I scrounge around in the bustling kitchen for some bread and cheese and then bring it out to the dining room, so we at least have something to munch on before things get started.