Free The Invitation by Samantha Hyde Page B

would be an
honour, Your Royal Highness,” she answered truthfully.
    The fact that
The King of England would invest so much time in her was truly an
honour. Still, she doubted she would see too much of The King
himself. He was bound to fly in a finishing school tutor from
Switzerland, or use someone of a similar ilk. She had visions of
some be-titled lady with grey hair pulled back in a tight bun; a
cross between an aging, diva ballerina and Mrs Doubtfire…
    “Yes, indeed.
Oh, and keep your eyes lowered when we are alone together. It is
disrespectful to stare directly at The King.”
    Jane lowered
her eyes, her hands clasped meekly in her lap. She had been alone
with him for all of ten minutes and it was like they had slipped
into the role of master and servant rather than teacher and
student. It was all most odd but Jane was just happy to be gaining
The King’s approval.
    “Do you know
what is taught at Finishing Schools, Jane?”
    “No Your
Majesty.”
    “Social skills.
Etiquette. Preparing the female student for marriage.”
    Jane could
think of nothing to say in reply. She kept her eyes downcast. His
voice was doing strange, twisting thing to her insides and she was
having difficulty catching her breath.
    “We shall start
your training today. And as a test to see what you have learned we
shall dine with your soon-to-be fiancé this evening, plus a few of
my closest friends.”
    Jane’s mouth
went instantly dry. No pressure then.
    “Yes Your
Majesty.”
    “As it is the
Easter holidays, you are to move in to the Palace for two weeks to
undergo an intensive course in the fine art of the aforementioned
topics. Do you consent to this Jane?”
    Move in? Now?
“But I don’t have anything with me,” she blurted out unthinkingly.
“What about clothes? What about Rupert? Shouldn’t I discuss this
with him first?”
    She looked him
in the eye when she spoke, momentarily forgetting the new rule
imposed upon her.
    “For the next
two weeks you are to answer to me, and me alone. Have I not made
myself perfectly clear? And do not look at me.”
    “Yes Your
Highness.”
    “Your Royal Highness. I shall inform Rupert of our plans in short
order and you shall see him at dinner tonight.”
    “Yes Your Royal
Highness.”
    “Better. Tell
me Jane, are your breasts natural?”
    The question
jolted her. “What?”
    “They are
awfully large for so slight a girl. Have you had implants?”
    “No, I have
not,” she replied, her heart hammering at his impetuousness.
    “I should hope
not. The future King of England would not marry the type of trashy
girl that has implants. If you have implants they would have to be
removed.”
    “But I
don’t.”
    “Take off your
dress, Jane. I need to see that for myself.”
    Jane simply
could not believe what she was hearing. Surely her ears deceived
her? The King of England, asking her to strip? Maybe, once upon a
time, in her secret, girlish fantasies, he might say such a thing
to her. But in reality? No way.
    “Your Royal
Highness, is that really necessary?”
    “If you do not
willingly consent to training, you have no future within this
family. And there is something else you should know too. Wilfully
disobeying me will result in punishment. I will ask you one final
time, do you consent to training?”
    “Yes Your
Majesty.”
    “Then stand up
and remove your dress.”
    Jane got
shakily to her feet, the chair scraping noisily over the highly
polished floor.
    I can’t
believe I’m doing this , she thought, reaching up behind her
back to unzip the garment. The dress fell to the floor in a puddle
around her feet encased in the sensible court heeled shoes.
    Beneath it she
wore plain white cotton underwear, her bra good and sturdy to
accommodate her heavy breasts.
    The King rose
from his chair. Jane was reasonably tall at five-foot seven but The
King towered over her, making her feel tiny. His commanding
presence seemed to add at least another foot to his already
impressive height.
    She