Free Killer Queens by Rebecca Chance Page B

vault. They do feel as if no one wore them in a hundred years.
As promised, Joachim had taken her to see the family jewels on their return to Schloss Hafenhoffer, but there had been so very much to view that it was impossible to take it all in. Some preliminary selections had been made, jewellery which Lori would wear for official engagements and State dinners, but he had suggested that she spend some days there, going through the collection with the help of the Dowager, familiarizing herself with what was at her disposal and considering what she might want to have reset, as many of the pieces were old-fashioned and could do with a more modern setting. Which would have been lovely, if Lori had had the faintest idea about jewellery settings.
    ‘Joachim was
very
blond when he was small, like his father,’ the Dowager was saying comfortably, ‘but then his hair became more dark. Mine, of course—’ she smiled as she touched her ash-blonde locks – ‘mine has a little help! But I have always been proud that my eyes are so light.’
    Like a husky,
Lori thought, looking at the Dowager.
That pale, pale blue, like water over swimming pool tiles . . .
    ‘Aryan?’ she said hesitantly. ‘Isn’t that a bit—’
    But the Dowager had already moved on to the subject of Lori’s bouquet and the flower arrangements in the cathedral.
    ‘White roses and
anemonen,
’ she was saying with great satisfaction. ‘Tied in lace sewn with pearls—’
    She reached up to touch the heavy lace bodice of the dress. ‘Like this. It will be sewn with many, many seed pearls,’ she said to Lori. ‘Dagmar and the women will be very busy. Much work for them, very tiny stitches! But we are very proud of our sewing skills in Herzoslovakia. We will take you to Paris, of course, Lori, for the collections. But your dress must be designed and made here, as is the tradition. I, too, had my wedding dress made in Herzoslovakia, by Dagmar’s mother.’
    Dagmar beamed and nodded vigorously.
    ‘Now, Dagmar,’ the Dowager continued, ‘the Queen-to-be has been standing still for a long time, and she must be tired. She is used to running and jumping, not being still! Take this off her. The next fitting is in three days, correct? I want to see at least a third of the pearls on the bodice by then. And loosen it fractionally at the bosom. Oh, and I think the sleeves should be a little longer—’
    ‘She’s already said that,’ Lori said, grinning. ‘To hide my big man arms.’
    The Dowager smiled back. ‘You are very fit and healthy, my dear!’ she said tactfully. ‘That is a wonderful thing. But yes, a bride is not a . . .’ She shook her head, not finding the word in English.
    ‘Bodybuilder?’ Lori suggested.
    ‘Yes! Bodybuilder! What is good for the beach is not good for the church. Now, Dagmar will take this dress off you, very carefully, and you will meet me for tea in my rooms so that the florist can show us the sketches for the flowers. I want to make sure everything is
just
the way you want it . . . I will arrange everything, of course, but we must be sure that it is all how you would like . . .’
    Really, I’d so much rather she just chose everything,
Lori thought ruefully as a footman led her along panelled corridors to what the Dowager called her rooms, but was actually an entire wing of the castle.
We’re doing this dance, her and me, like we’re in one of those balls from a Jane Austen movie – I want her to pick what’s best, she wants me to pick what I’d like, we’re pirouetting round and round in ever-decreasing circles . . . the trouble is, everything she suggests is so pretty and perfect and suits me so well, but if I just say I love it she gets worried I’m being too polite and starts picking holes in it . . . and if I make a suggestion it takes half an hour for her to explain to me that it sounds lovely but unfortunately there’s a very good reason why it won’t be possible .
. .
    Which was exactly what proceeded to