The gown Mrs. Moreton, the housekeeper—it seemed such an unlikely title for someone with responsibility for a palace—had found for Fiona felt both awkward and comfortable at the same time. It fit her perfectly, the full skirt with its many petticoats swishing pleasantly around her ankles, the bodice fitted but not tight, the deep green color contrasting beautifully with her red hair that fell loose over her shoulders. She’d never worn anything like it before, and maybe that was the problem: she knew, if no one else did, that she was an imposter. She felt as if the Queen might at any moment denounce her to the rest of the family, strip the gown off her and thrust her out into the winter night.
She’d used Sebastian’s dressing room to change, thanking heaven that high fashion for women was, unlike the styles of thirty years previous, easy for one to don unassisted. She didn’t think she could keep a straight face if she had to have a lady’s maid dress her.
When she emerged, Sebastian was there in the bedroom, straightening his formal tunic and knee breeches. His eyes widened. “You look beautiful,” he said.
“Thank you. So do you.” He looked unbearably handsome, making her wish she really were the lady her gown proclaimed her to be.
“You don’t have anything to worry about,” he went on. “Just watch me to see which fork to use. It’s not hard.”
She wasn’t worried about which fork to use. Well, that was a lie. She wasn’t worried much about which fork to use. She was more worried about encountering Sebastian’s family. Reminding herself that they put their trousers on one leg at a time just like everyone else was small comfort when she considered they probably had servants to dress them. “I’ll be fine,” she said.
“Of course you will. Fiona—”
“Don’t say it.” His eyes were dark and intense and she wished she could hide from them. “This is all make-believe. It doesn’t change anything.”
His lips compressed in a tight line, and he turned away from her. “It’s just a small family party,” he said. “But I think Doug will be there.”
“How many of your family members know the truth?”
“I doubt anyone but Mother knows, aside from us. Landon might, but he’s so painfully forthright I could see Mother thinking he’d be a liability. She’d never tell Great-Uncle Sebastian or Emily. We should behave as if we know nothing, either.”
“I can do that.” She hesitated, then said, “Tell me about your family. What should I expect?”
Sebastian took a seat on the long sofa and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “Landon only cares about two things, food and hunting,” he said. “He’ll talk about those for hours if you let him. His wife Veronica is so reserved it’s hard to get her to talk about anything, but she won’t seek you out. It’s not an insult—she’s just like that. My sister Emily, though, will want to befriend you.”
“That makes me uncomfortable.”
“You won’t be. Emily was born understanding social graces. She’ll make you feel welcome.”
“But I’ll be lying to her. We’re lying to all of them.”
“Does it matter, if you’re not staying?” He raised his head and fixed her with that dark, intense gaze again.
“I…suppose not.” It did matter, but she couldn’t explain why. “So Landon is boring, Veronica is reserved, and Emily is friendly. Who else?”
“Great-Uncle Sebastian. He’s my favorite relative. He doesn’t get out much anymore, being in his eighties, but he’s still sharper than anyone I know. He and Mother don’t get along, and he despises Doug and Landon, but he has always been kind to me. I don’t think it’s just because we share a name. I think you’ll like him. I know he’ll like you.”
“What about the Consort? What’s your father like?”
Sebastian went still. “You know he’s not well.”
“I’d heard that, yes.” It was common knowledge that the Consort, James North, had a debilitating illness neither doctors nor healers could cure.
“He can’t sit for long periods of time, so he won’t be joining us for the meal. I was thinking we should visit him after supper. It will look strange if I don’t bring my new bride to meet my father.”
“I don’t mind. We need to keep up the pretense, after all.”
“And if Doug’s there…” Sebastian blew out his breath. “Let’s just hope Doug’s not there. I’m not sure I could maintain my composure.”
“Would he really come to supper, just like nothing’s wrong?” She secretly wanted to meet this prince who’d caused them so much grief, but Sebastian was right, it would be hard to act as if she didn’t know anything about his inherent magic or his crimes.
“Knowing Doug, yes. I don’t know if he’s in Aurilien. It would make sense for Mother to keep him close, but just as much sense to send him away while she’s cleaning up his mess. I don’t know.” He stood and offered Fiona his arm. “Shall we?”
The enormous sitting room with the fireplace big enough to sleep in was occupied when they reached it. A young woman sat on one of the sofas, staring pensively into the fire. She looked up when they entered, and a smile spread across her face. “Seb, how could you?” she exclaimed, rising from her seat. “You got married and you didn’t tell anyone!” She was short and plump, with fine brown hair a few shades lighter than Sebastian’s, and her blue eyes twinkled with merriment that said she was amused rather than angry.
“It was a whirlwind romance. I wanted to capture her before she met the family and came to her senses,” Sebastian said. “Fiona, this is my sister Emily. Emily, Fiona, my wife.”
He said it so casually Fiona shivered, as if the deception had not been real until his words made it so. Then it was a little too real for comfort. “How do you do?” she said politely.
“Oh, you don’t need to be formal with me,” Emily said, and to Fiona’s complete surprise she ignored Fiona’s offered hand and swept her up in a hug. Startled, Fiona returned it. “I’m so glad to meet you. Don’t let the family overwhelm you. We can be a little loud, but it’s just how we communicate. Seb, did you take her to meet Father yet?”
“After supper,” Sebastian said. “Is he having a good day?”
“As good as it ever is,” Emily said, her good humor evaporating. “The new treatment seems to be working, even if all it does is ease his pain. So he’s less irritable.”
“Sebastian!” someone boomed, and Fiona turned to see a tall, handsome man enter the room with an equally tall woman on his arm. He looked so much like the Queen, with his black hair and bright blue eyes, Fiona knew he had to be Landon North, Crown Prince of Tremontane.
“Good to see you,” Landon said, clasping Sebastian’s hand firmly and clapping him on the shoulder. “And this is the woman you married. About time you settled down. Welcome to the family, Lady North—what’s your name?”
“This is Fiona, Landon,” Sebastian said. “Fiona, may I introduce my brother Landon and his wife Veronica.”
“Charmed,” Veronica North said. Though she was as tall as her husband, she was thinner, and gave Fiona the impression of a stick insect, though she was attractive enough. It was just the way she moved, as if she had to think about every step required to extend a hand for Fiona to clasp, as she did now. “Do I know your family?”
“Unlikely,” Fiona said, and was saved from elaborating by the entrance of a short, stout man with thick white hair and a short white beard to match. His blue-eyed gaze scanned the room and lit on her, and she felt unexpectedly flustered, as if he could see through her skin to the heart of her. He smiled at Sebastian and strode across the room.
“Good to have you home again, boy,” he said, his voice a deep bass rumble. “Why don’t you introduce me to my…new niece.” He gave Sebastian a strange, unreadable look.
“Of…course,” Sebastian murmured. “Great-Uncle Sebastian, this is Fiona North.”
Again that frisson of discomfort passed through Fiona. Great-Uncle Sebastian fixed his blue-eyed North gaze upon her again. “Of course she is,” he said, taking her hand and raising it to his lips. “Welcome to the family.”
“Thank you,” Fiona said. He had the oddest expression, like he knew a secret and was waiting for the right moment to reveal it. She glanced at Landon and Veronica, who’d lost interest in her and were moving away to greet Queen Genevieve, who entered the room at that moment trailed by Master Thornton, still in North blue and silver. The Queen was dressed more formally than she had been that afternoon, but her forbidding expression was the same.
“I want to talk to you privately later,” Sebastian whispered to his great-uncle.
“I’m sure you do,” Great-Uncle Sebastian said, “you and your…wife.”
That chilled Fiona further. Sebastian had spoken so highly of his great-uncle, but the man seemed terribly unwelcoming despite his pleasant words. If he disapproved of the supposed match, how would that affect his relationship with his favorite nephew? Fiona felt even more guilty at their deception. She didn’t want their pretend marriage to hurt Sebastian’s family standing.
Across the room, the Queen turned to look at Fiona and Sebastian. Her eyes narrowed, though Fiona couldn’t tell what she was thinking—that Fiona’s dress was wrong? She should have worn her hair up? Or, more likely, that Sebastian had made a fool of himself marrying someone unknown to the family or high society in general. Fiona smiled politely at the Queen, who regarded her for another long moment before turning away and saying, “Please join me for supper, everyone.”
Fiona took Sebastian’s offered arm once more and allowed him to lead her down one of the halls to a door on the left. The royal family’s residence had her confused with all its identical doors and hallways. She wouldn’t be able to find Sebastian’s room without help. Well, it was only for one night. It wasn’t as if she needed to get used to the place.