“I’m in love,” Bianca said as she fell onto the sofa, scattering the seating charts I had been working on.

“You’ve only been in the country for twenty-four hours,” I said, “How could you possibly be in love.”

“Oh Katie,” Bianca said, “Don’t you have a single romantic bone in your body?”

“No,” I replied, “And don’t call me Katie. My name is Priscilla, everyone here calls me Priscilla.”

My actual name was Katerina Priscilla Beaumonde, but since moving to Merveille I had decided to use my middle name. Coming here had felt like a new beginning and I wanted the woman that I was to be left behind with my old life. So I had become Priscilla, only my sister seemed to forget that I no longer answered to Katie. As for romance, once bitten, twice shy, as the saying went. I’d had my fill of fanciful feelings that left you bereft and hurting. No more falling in love for me, I had learned my lesson.

“Oh Katie—“ I glared at her, “Oh Priscilla,” she amended, “Love is grand. How can you not feel the romance in the air? You are organising the Queen’s wedding for goodness sake, how much more romantic can you get?”

“Very little of what I’m doing has anything to do with romance,” I said, tired and cranky, “You would not believe the logistical nightmare I’ve to deal with in trying to organise this seating chart for the ceremony, not to mention the reception. I could inadvertently start a war between two countries if I don’t get it right.”

Bianca giggled and I resented her carefree attitude to life. As the baby of the family, Father doted on her, spoiling her by giving her everything she desired. Our mother died when I was ten years old and Bianca was little more than a toddler. My father looked to me to fulfil the role of mother while he became the indulgent parent to the small, adorable baby. I’d had to grow up fast, not that I minded, but Bianca had been able to stroll leisurely through each birthday with nary a care in the world. I wasn’t bitter… well, not entirely.

“You’re far too serious Kat—Priscilla,” she said dreamily.

I sighed and took off my glasses, rubbing the bridge of my nose, easing the tension that had gathered there. “Okay,” I said, “Who is this man that you have fallen in love with.”

She sat up, her eyes sparkling, “I don’t know his name,” she said and I held in a groan. “But he is the most exquisite specimen of a man I have ever seen. And we had a moment.”

“You had a moment?” I asked.

“Yes,” she said, ignoring my sarcasm, “It was just like a romance novel or a movie. I was sitting at a table talking with Georgie and Lily and then I saw him across the garden.”

There had been a reception in the Palace gardens today in the lead up to the official start of the wedding festivities. It had been crowded with nobility and titled gentry and no doubt every eligible bachelor had been on the prowl. Bianca was a beautiful girl and would have garnered her fair share of attention from said bachelors.

“Do you think I’ll see him again?” she asked, turning her big innocent eyes on me.

“Probably,” I said tiredly, “There are quite a few events between now and the wedding, he’s sure to be at one, if not all of them.”

She smiled dreamily and flopped back down on the sofa. “Oh, I hope you’re right,” she said, “I think I will positively die if I don’t get to meet him.”

I rolled my eyes and put my glasses back on, looking down at the spreadsheet before me. I clucked my tongue and made a note in the margin. There was no way I could seat Lady Poppy Della Sabina next to Lady Isabella de Vaughn. It might not lead to world war three, but it would cause a ripple in the space-time continuum and I would not take responsibility for that fallout. Queen Alyssa had once had them at the same table at a garden party and we were all lucky to escape with our lives.

“What did he look like?” I asked, more to stop her from falling asleep on my sofa than because I was interested.

“He was devastatingly handsome,” she said breathily, “He had dark hair and a strong nose and gorgeous full lips and his eyes… his eyes were green, the most amazing emerald green that I have ever seen.”

Dark hair, strong nose, thick lips and green eyes. There could only be one man that fit that description and I had to fight the smile that wanted to split my face. Dominique Furore would have nothing to do with my little sister, he was far to old to start with and far too stuffy for the likes of her. I had never considered him as devastatingly handsome before, I found him to be more of an irritant than anything else. He was always picking apart my work and we could never agree on anything, which was a bit of a problem since we had to work together. As the Lord Chancellor, he was in charge of Protocol and Etiquette for all things royal and I was the Queen’s Protocol Liaison, which meant Dominique and I spent an awful lot of time together. Time neither of us enjoyed.

“Do you recognise him?” Bianca asked, taking in the look on my face.

“Perhaps,” I said, “But if it’s the man I’m thinking of, he’s way too old for you.”

She waved a hand at me, “Then it’s not the same man,” she said, “The man I saw was my age and we definitely had a moment. He smiled at me and I swear he winked. He was so dreamy.”

I rolled my eyes again. Maybe it wasn’t Dominique after all, there’s no way I could imagine him winking at anyone, and the man barely deigned to smile.

“Dom,” Louis said, coming into my office. I looked up at my younger brother and stared into the face so much like my own. We could be twins except for the small matter of five years difference between us. Although I had begun to look decidedly more ragged around the edges compared to the youth that exuded from him.

“Louis,” I said, “What can I do for you?”

“Did you see that exquisite young woman at the party this afternoon?” he asked and I had to stop myself from sighing. Louis thought himself somewhat of a Lothario or perhaps a Casanova. Father had sent him to me in order to try to get him to concentrate on his studies rather than the fairer sex. So far it hadn’t been going as well as expected.

“You weren’t at the party to look at the women,” I said, turning my attention back to the seating chart that Priscilla had emailed me. It looked almost perfect, which galled me. I took perverse pleasure in correcting her mistakes, although they were becoming less and less frequent.

“Come on Dom,” he said, “Life can’t be all work and no play. It was a beautiful day and we were surrounded by beautiful women. How could you not look?”

“I was more focussed on doing my job,” I said, “Than looking at the women who had attended.”

“Then you missed out,” he said, “Because the one I spied across the patio was divine and she had the most glorious head of red hair that I have ever seen.”

There were two women that I knew of that had red hair and neither of them would fall for Louis’ charm.

I scoffed, “Good luck,” I said, “If it was Meredith you were looking at, then you had better wear body armour if you try to seduce her. The woman is one of the Queen’s bodyguards and more than proficient in the discipline of martial arts. The only other red head that I am aware of is Priscilla and she has claws, her bite is definitely worse than her bark, so I would advise you to steer clear.”

“A pity,” he said as he unbuttoned his suit coat and sat in the chair opposite me. “She looked interested. The other two young women she was sitting with were just as beautiful, but there was something intriguing about the red head.”

I thought back over the afternoon in the garden. The three youngest women in attendance were Will’s sister Georgina, a blonde, Alex’s sister Lily, another blonde, and Priscilla’s sister, who I hadn’t met. But perhaps she was a red head like Priscilla? Regardless, I couldn’t imagine Priscilla letting her sister have anything to do with Louis and no doubt her sister would be just as shrewish as she was.

“Do you think you could get me an introduction?” he asked.

“I don’t even know the young woman in question,” I said, “What makes you think I would be able to get you an introduction.”

“Pfft,” Louis waved my objection away, “Dom, you know everyone and I know you can get things done. I have complete confidence that you could find out who the intriguing young woman is and arrange for me to meet her.”

I sat back in my chair and eyed my brother over the desk. “And if I do this for you, what do I get in return?”

He smiled at me, knowing he’d won. “I will be your servant for the time I’m here,” he said, “Whatever you need me to do, I will do.”

I growled softly under my breath. That was why he was here in the first place, to shadow me and learn the ropes. My father had been Lord Chancellor before me and, due to my not having yet produced an heir, Louis was to be apprenticed into the position to take over from me. But if I could make my job easier by agreeing to his demands, then I would be the winner in the long run.

“Fine,” I said with a resigned sigh, “I will find out who the mystery red head is and I will organise an introduction, but you must also hold up your end of the bargain. No more slacking off. The wedding is in a month and there is far too much to do.”

Louis grinned at me and stood to his feet. I had the sudden feeling that I had been played. “You’re the man, Dom,” he said, and I rolled my eyes. His colloquial Americanisms were going to be the death of me.

He left the office and I turned my eyes back to the spreadsheet in front of me. Priscilla had flagged a potential issue with Lady Poppy and Lady Isabella, one I had completely overlooked. I gritted my teeth, I hated it when she got one over me. The woman was maddening, brilliant, but maddening all the same.

Her face flashed in front of my eyes and her magnificent red hair and clear blue eyes sparked a flash of adrenalin in me. Whenever we spent time together, she irritated me, grated against my skin like a burr. But I couldn’t deny that she was striking. She was so serious and put together but her flamboyant red hair seemed to fly in the face of that very poise. Her red hair screamed wild, but she had tamed it and when I looked at her, I couldn’t see anything but a very conservative professional. And that did things to me that I didn’t want to analyse. I liked her mastery of control, more than I was willing to admit.

My email beeped, breaking into my dangerous train of thought. It was Priscilla, and I felt my irritation rise as I read her succinct criticism of my preliminary seating chart. Had I thought her beautiful? It must have been a momentary lapse in judgement.