Marcello & Grace (Royals of Valleria #2) by Marianne Knightly Page B
Authors: Marianne Knightly
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wrapping the towel around her slim body. Then she sat down in front of her vanity to prepare for the night ahead.
Her golden hair was darker now that it was wet and much curlier. She tackled that first, blow drying and brushing it in even, steady strokes. At the moment, Grace didn't give much thought to the fact that her legs and shoulders were bare; it did not matter in her private bathroom. The evening ahead, however, was another story.
The long, strapless evening dress she had chosen would easily cover the scars covering her hips and thighs. There were a few scars on her back and a particularly nasty one on her shoulder. She never wore sleeveless dresses because of it. Her dress for the evening had a matching cropped jacket that would hide it all; no one would be the wiser.
After Grace finished twisting and pinning her hair in a demure coil atop her head, she began to apply makeup next. After she finished, she took a minute and gave herself a critical look in the mirror, eventually deciding that she looked as good as she was going to. Most of the people coming had rarely seen her, particularly in the few years before Daniel died, so she was not sure what they may expect.
She, unfortunately, did know what to expect from Lord Picford and winced at the thought of avoiding him all night. She would need to stay on her toes.
After slipping into her silky blue dress that looked and felt like a waterfall over her skin, she shrugged on her jacket. She gave herself a quick turn to make sure the dress would stay up; ample was not a word that described her breasts but the fitted nature of the dress along with some double-sided tape should compensate for it.
After putting on her shoes, she took a deep breath and walked out of her bedroom.
“My God,” Marcello said and Grace whipped around to see him leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his hard chest. He looked decadent in his formal suit which molded to his delicious body. His dark blond hair was suavely styled and his dark brown eyes held admiration for her.
“You’re a vision, Grace,” he said as he walked over to her.
“I look all right?” she asked, her nerves getting the best of her.
“You’re stunning,” he said as he took her hand and gave it a quick kiss. He then wove her arm around his and began to escort her down the stairs.
“Thank you,” she said, a little breathlessly. Marcello could not have known how much his compliment meant to her, and she flushed with pleasure after hearing it. Clearing her throat, she asked, “Have you seen Cat?”
“I knocked on her door a little while ago, but she was still getting ready.”
“There’s still some time; it’s only quarter of.”
“Catharine Victoria Santoro di Valleria is not known for using time judiciously when getting ready,” Marcello said with an indulgent smile on his face. Grace couldn’t help but smile back.
“I resent that,” Cat said from behind them on the stairs. They both paused and turned to watch Cat walking slowly down in a strapless dark purple gown covered with tiny stones that shimmered in the dim evening light.
“You may resent it,” Marcello said as Cat stopped beside him and took his other arm for support down the rest of the stairs. “But am I wrong?”
Cat lifted her chin up in the air as they began walking again. “That’s entirely beside the point.”
Grace and Marcello laughed and, after a moment, Cat joined in as well. It felt so good to laugh again, Grace thought.
When they reached the landing, the doorbell rang as if on cue. “And so it begins,” Grace said as she led Marcello and Cat into the parlor where they would greet their guests.
A few moments later, the butler brought in the first guests: Lord and Lady Picford. Both were short and squat, with square faces and thin, unsmiling lips. Lord Picford was in a fierce battle to retain what little hair he had left, and
Her golden hair was darker now that it was wet and much curlier. She tackled that first, blow drying and brushing it in even, steady strokes. At the moment, Grace didn't give much thought to the fact that her legs and shoulders were bare; it did not matter in her private bathroom. The evening ahead, however, was another story.
The long, strapless evening dress she had chosen would easily cover the scars covering her hips and thighs. There were a few scars on her back and a particularly nasty one on her shoulder. She never wore sleeveless dresses because of it. Her dress for the evening had a matching cropped jacket that would hide it all; no one would be the wiser.
After Grace finished twisting and pinning her hair in a demure coil atop her head, she began to apply makeup next. After she finished, she took a minute and gave herself a critical look in the mirror, eventually deciding that she looked as good as she was going to. Most of the people coming had rarely seen her, particularly in the few years before Daniel died, so she was not sure what they may expect.
She, unfortunately, did know what to expect from Lord Picford and winced at the thought of avoiding him all night. She would need to stay on her toes.
After slipping into her silky blue dress that looked and felt like a waterfall over her skin, she shrugged on her jacket. She gave herself a quick turn to make sure the dress would stay up; ample was not a word that described her breasts but the fitted nature of the dress along with some double-sided tape should compensate for it.
After putting on her shoes, she took a deep breath and walked out of her bedroom.
“My God,” Marcello said and Grace whipped around to see him leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his hard chest. He looked decadent in his formal suit which molded to his delicious body. His dark blond hair was suavely styled and his dark brown eyes held admiration for her.
“You’re a vision, Grace,” he said as he walked over to her.
“I look all right?” she asked, her nerves getting the best of her.
“You’re stunning,” he said as he took her hand and gave it a quick kiss. He then wove her arm around his and began to escort her down the stairs.
“Thank you,” she said, a little breathlessly. Marcello could not have known how much his compliment meant to her, and she flushed with pleasure after hearing it. Clearing her throat, she asked, “Have you seen Cat?”
“I knocked on her door a little while ago, but she was still getting ready.”
“There’s still some time; it’s only quarter of.”
“Catharine Victoria Santoro di Valleria is not known for using time judiciously when getting ready,” Marcello said with an indulgent smile on his face. Grace couldn’t help but smile back.
“I resent that,” Cat said from behind them on the stairs. They both paused and turned to watch Cat walking slowly down in a strapless dark purple gown covered with tiny stones that shimmered in the dim evening light.
“You may resent it,” Marcello said as Cat stopped beside him and took his other arm for support down the rest of the stairs. “But am I wrong?”
Cat lifted her chin up in the air as they began walking again. “That’s entirely beside the point.”
Grace and Marcello laughed and, after a moment, Cat joined in as well. It felt so good to laugh again, Grace thought.
When they reached the landing, the doorbell rang as if on cue. “And so it begins,” Grace said as she led Marcello and Cat into the parlor where they would greet their guests.
A few moments later, the butler brought in the first guests: Lord and Lady Picford. Both were short and squat, with square faces and thin, unsmiling lips. Lord Picford was in a fierce battle to retain what little hair he had left, and
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