her duty to her parents, to her sister, to everything she’d made her life about.
And not think about Sandro, and the confusion of her marriage.
An hour later she was showered and dressed in a modest dress of lavender silk, high necked and belted at the waist. She’d pulled her hair back into its usual tight chignon and then frowned at her reflection, remembering what Sandro had said.
I would like to see you with your hair cascading over your shoulders. Your lips rosy and parted, your face flushed.
For a second she thought about undoing her hair. Putting some blusher on her cheeks. Then her frown deepened and she turned away from the mirror. She looked fine.
Downstairs, the royal family had assembled in an opulent dining room for the official brunch. And it felt official, far from a family meal. A dozen footmen were stationed around the room, and the dishes were all gold plate.
The queen dowager glided into the room, her eyes narrowed, her mouth pursed, everything about her haughty and distant.
Was that how Sandro saw her? Icy and remote, even arrogant? Liana felt herself inwardly cringe. She’d never considered how others saw her; she’d just not wanted to be seen. Really seen. The woman underneath the ice. The girl still trying to make herself invisible, to apologise for her existence.
Sophia went to the head of the table and Sandro moved to the other end. A footman showed Liana her place, on the side, and for a second she hesitated.
As queen, her place was where Sophia now sat, eyeing everyone coldly. Clearly the queen dowager did not want to give up her rights and privileges as monarch, and Liana wasn’t about to make a fuss about where she sat at the table. She never made a fuss.
And yet somehow it hurt, because she realised she wanted Sandro to notice where she sat. Notice her, and put her in her rightful place.
He didn’t even look at her, and Liana didn’t think she was imagining the triumph glittering in her mother-in-law’s eyes as she sat down.
Sandro excused himself directly after the brunch, and Liana hadn’t had so much as two words of conversation with him. They were meant to appear on the palace balcony at four o’clock, and she had a meeting with her secretary—someone already appointed and whom she hadn’t met—at three.
And until then? She’d wander around the palace and wonder yet again just what she was doing here. What had brought her to this place.
Most of the palace’s ground floor was made up of formal receiving rooms much like the one she’d first met Sandro in. Liana wandered through them, sunlight dappling the marble floors. As she stood in the centre of one room, feeling as lost and lonely as she ever had and annoyed that she did, she heard a voice from behind her.
‘Hello.’
She turned to see Alyse standing in the doorway, looking lovely and vibrant and full of purpose. She’d changed from her more formal outfit for brunch, and now wore a pair of jeans and a cashmere sweater in bright pink. Liana suddenly felt absurd and matronly in her high-necked dress and tightly coiled hair. She fiddled with the pearls at her throat, managed a smile.
‘Hello.’
‘Did you have a good night?’ A blush touched Alyse’s cheeks. ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean that— Well.’ She laughed and stepped into the room. ‘I was only asking if you’d slept well.’
‘Very well, thank you,’ Liana answered automatically, and Alyse cocked her head.
‘You look tired,’ she said, her voice filled with sympathy. ‘It’s so overwhelming, isn’t it—marrying into royalty?’
‘It’s been a lot to take in,’ Liana answered carefully. She didn’t want to admit just how overwhelming it had been, and how uncertain and unfulfilled she felt now.
‘At least you don’t have the press to deal with,’ Alyse said with a little laugh. ‘That was the hardest part for me. All those cameras, all those reporters looking for a hole in our story, and of course they found one.’
‘Was
And not think about Sandro, and the confusion of her marriage.
An hour later she was showered and dressed in a modest dress of lavender silk, high necked and belted at the waist. She’d pulled her hair back into its usual tight chignon and then frowned at her reflection, remembering what Sandro had said.
I would like to see you with your hair cascading over your shoulders. Your lips rosy and parted, your face flushed.
For a second she thought about undoing her hair. Putting some blusher on her cheeks. Then her frown deepened and she turned away from the mirror. She looked fine.
Downstairs, the royal family had assembled in an opulent dining room for the official brunch. And it felt official, far from a family meal. A dozen footmen were stationed around the room, and the dishes were all gold plate.
The queen dowager glided into the room, her eyes narrowed, her mouth pursed, everything about her haughty and distant.
Was that how Sandro saw her? Icy and remote, even arrogant? Liana felt herself inwardly cringe. She’d never considered how others saw her; she’d just not wanted to be seen. Really seen. The woman underneath the ice. The girl still trying to make herself invisible, to apologise for her existence.
Sophia went to the head of the table and Sandro moved to the other end. A footman showed Liana her place, on the side, and for a second she hesitated.
As queen, her place was where Sophia now sat, eyeing everyone coldly. Clearly the queen dowager did not want to give up her rights and privileges as monarch, and Liana wasn’t about to make a fuss about where she sat at the table. She never made a fuss.
And yet somehow it hurt, because she realised she wanted Sandro to notice where she sat. Notice her, and put her in her rightful place.
He didn’t even look at her, and Liana didn’t think she was imagining the triumph glittering in her mother-in-law’s eyes as she sat down.
Sandro excused himself directly after the brunch, and Liana hadn’t had so much as two words of conversation with him. They were meant to appear on the palace balcony at four o’clock, and she had a meeting with her secretary—someone already appointed and whom she hadn’t met—at three.
And until then? She’d wander around the palace and wonder yet again just what she was doing here. What had brought her to this place.
Most of the palace’s ground floor was made up of formal receiving rooms much like the one she’d first met Sandro in. Liana wandered through them, sunlight dappling the marble floors. As she stood in the centre of one room, feeling as lost and lonely as she ever had and annoyed that she did, she heard a voice from behind her.
‘Hello.’
She turned to see Alyse standing in the doorway, looking lovely and vibrant and full of purpose. She’d changed from her more formal outfit for brunch, and now wore a pair of jeans and a cashmere sweater in bright pink. Liana suddenly felt absurd and matronly in her high-necked dress and tightly coiled hair. She fiddled with the pearls at her throat, managed a smile.
‘Hello.’
‘Did you have a good night?’ A blush touched Alyse’s cheeks. ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean that— Well.’ She laughed and stepped into the room. ‘I was only asking if you’d slept well.’
‘Very well, thank you,’ Liana answered automatically, and Alyse cocked her head.
‘You look tired,’ she said, her voice filled with sympathy. ‘It’s so overwhelming, isn’t it—marrying into royalty?’
‘It’s been a lot to take in,’ Liana answered carefully. She didn’t want to admit just how overwhelming it had been, and how uncertain and unfulfilled she felt now.
‘At least you don’t have the press to deal with,’ Alyse said with a little laugh. ‘That was the hardest part for me. All those cameras, all those reporters looking for a hole in our story, and of course they found one.’
‘Was
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