The Royal Wedding Collection. Robyn Donald

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СКАЧАТЬ from his attitude that the usually sanguine Alesso disapproved of her request almost as much as Gianferro did, but Millie held firm and two weeks later she was allowed to go to an Italian class, accompanied by a bodyguard.

      The class had been chosen by Alesso, and was held in a large room at the British Embassy. Millie was greeted by the Ambassador’s wife, who dropped a deep curtsey before her. She wanted to say Please don’t make a fuss, except that she knew her words would be redundant. People did make a fuss—indeed, they would be disappointed if they were not allowed to! But she had given Alesso prior warning that her participation in the class was not to be announced.

      ‘I’d like to just slip in unnoticed,’ said Millie softly. She had dressed as anonymously as possible—a knee-length skirt and a simple sweater, for while the Mardivinian winter was mild, there was a faint chill to the air.

      Alesso had raised his eyebrows. ‘Certainly, Your Majesty.’

      She smiled. ‘Loosen up,’ she said softly. ‘It’s only an Italian class!’

      The tutor had his back to her when she walked in—he was busy scrawling verbs on a blackboard—and as the door opened he turned round and frowned, pushing back the dark, shoulder-length hair which hung almost to his shoulders.

      ‘You are late!’ he admonished.

      Clearly he didn’t recognise her! Millie bit back a smile as she heard the slight inrush of breath from the Ambassador’s wife, and almost imperceptibly shook her head in a silent don’t fuss command. ‘Sorry,’ she said meekly, quickly making her way to a spare place at the back of the room. ‘I’ll just sit quietly and try to catch up.’

      He nodded. ‘Make sure you do.’

      The next hour was spent busily trying to retain fact after fact and word after word. For a brief moment Millie realised how long it was since she had actually used her brain—not since school, and then not as much as she could have done.

      But she found that she was enjoying herself, and soon lost herself in the challenge of learning something for the first time.

      Her first faltering attempts at speaking aloud were greeted with smiles from the others, but she found herself smiling when their turn came. They were all in the same boat, and the sense of belonging she experienced filled her with a warm glow.

      At the end of the class the others began to file out, and Millie was just gathering her books together when the tutor strolled down towards her and paused by her desk. He looked more like an artist than a teacher, she thought, with his long dark hair and jeans and T-shirt.

      ‘You enjoyed my class?’ he questioned.

      Millie nodded. ‘Very much. You made it seem…easy!’

      ‘Ah! You should not say such things.’ He laughed. ‘Or the expectation for you to become my star pupil will be too high!’

      ‘Okay, you made it seem really difficult!’

      He was frowning now. It was not a frown of displeasure, but as if he was trying to place her, and Millie’s heart sank.

      ‘Don’t I know you, signora?’ he questioned softly.

      ‘I don’t think we’ve met.’ Millie began to shuffle her books in order to put an end to a line of questioning which struck her as extremely inappropriate, but it seemed he was not to be deterred.

      ‘Your face is…familiar.’

      She guessed she couldn’t have it both ways—she couldn’t pull rank if she was trying to keep her identity secret! It was true that as she had been sitting at the back of the class only the tutor would have seen her face—but she couldn’t do that week in, week out. And when she stopped to think about it hadn’t she been living in cloud-cuckoo land even thinking that she could—with a dirty great bodyguard stationed outside the door?

      ‘Is it?’

      He gave a low laugh. ‘You are the image of our new Queen!’

      Millie sighed. ‘That’s because I am.’

      ‘You are joking me?’

      Millie laughed as his English deserted him in his confusion. ‘Okay, I am!’

      He gave a long, low whistle. ‘I have the Queen in my class?’ he questioned incredulously. ‘The Queen of Mardivino?’

      Millie smiled. ‘Is that a problem for you?’

      ‘For me, no! But perhaps for you?’

      ‘I don’t see why.’ She allowed herself to believe the illusion and it was both heady and seductive.

      His eyes narrowed. ‘Why are you not being taught within the Palace?’

      ‘Perhaps I want to experience life outside it,’ she answered slowly.

      ‘The caged bird?’ he questioned thoughtfully. ‘Who longs to break free?’

      ‘You’re being very impertinent!’ she remonstrated.

      ‘Am I?’ He stared at her. ‘You say you wish to experience life—and life outside the Palace means that people say what is on their minds.’ He hesitated. ‘What must I call you?’

      She gave it only a split-second’s thought. In this—if only in this—she would be like everyone else. ‘My name is Millie,’ she said firmly. ‘You must call me Millie.’

      ‘And I am Oliviero.’ He smiled then, a genuine smile which made his eyes crinkle. ‘Your secret is safe with me…Millie—though I doubt that it will remain so. But I can and will tell you this—while in my class, you are simply another pupil, and the others will respect that or they will be…’ He shrugged and clicked his fingers in a dismissive gesture.

      ‘Turfed out?’ supplied Millie helpfully.

      ‘Turfed out? Yes, it is just that!’ His smile grew wider. ‘I sometimes forget that it is the teacher who also learns!’

      And Millie smiled back.

      The challenge of studying added an extra dimension to her life, and she threw herself into her work with a new-found enthusiasm which was very gratifying.

      She wasn’t naïve enough to suppose that the rest of the class remained oblivious to her true identity, for their manner towards her was subtly deferential. But no one bothered her, or questioned her, or was intrusive.

      She was always the last to leave—mainly to avoid being seen with her bodyguard, but also because she had grown to enjoy her little chats with Oliviero. He alone, of all people, treated her just as Millie. With him she felt like the person she knew she really was, deep inside. Not the Queen—a person who always led the conversation and was listened to with deference—but someone with whom she could have a genuine laugh. A small thing, but a precious and cherished one, and it reminded her of a very different life indeed.

      Millie hadn’t realised quite how much freedom she would lose when she married her Prince, but in a tiny way this compensated.

      Her false paradise lasted СКАЧАТЬ