Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 141385 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 707(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141385 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 707(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
“Ah, I’m sure you’re exaggerating,” I say quietly. “Her Majesty has better things to do than wax lyrical over my photos.”
“No. She loves to sing my praises. I’m her only son after all.”
I turn my head, and Crown Prince Finley grins.
“I’m glad you took extras,” he says, pointing at the screen. “Some of these candid shots are fantastic. They’ll make the social media team very happy.”
“I agree,” a woman’s voice says. “This smiling one—could we possibly see a bigger version of it?”
I double-click the image, bringing it up to fill the screen. It’s one of the last ones we took where he was looking directly at me, smiling. “This one?”
“Yes, that’s perfect. Hm, yes. You have a wonderful eye. It’s not often he’s captured smiling so genuinely, but you’ve caught it perfectly.”
“Thank you very much,” I say, turning my head.
Queen Beatrix smiles at me, warmth making her eyes twinkle.
Oh.
Oh.
“Your Majesty.” The words rush out of my mouth, and I grip the edge of the table to stand and greet her properly.
What is she doing here?
“Oh, please stay seated,” she says. “I’m just here to be nosy. I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”
“No.” I clear my throat. “We were just going over the photos to see if we’d missed any or if we needed to do a reshoot for some.”
“Well, they look perfect from where I’m standing. Finley made an excellent decision when he chose you to take these.”
“Thank you. I’m honoured you think so, Your Majesty.”
“That’s that, then,” Crown Prince Finley says. “If my mother has approved them, I suppose all that’s left is to wait for the edited versions so we can choose the final ones to share.”
“Not quite,” the Queen says, stepping away from her position behind me. She walks around the table and eyes me. Her eyes, a darker blue than her son’s, are calculating and sharp, but there’s an edge of softness to her expression as she flicks her gaze over my face.
“Mother?” Crown Prince Finley takes half a step towards me.
“You’re finishing early, yes?” she asks him.
“Yes.”
“Then perhaps, given that my schedule is clear today, Miss Porter wouldn’t mind joining me for a cup of tea.” She smiles at me, and the corners of her eyes wrinkle.
I can’t say no, and she knows it. Not only would it be incredibly rude to refuse such an invitation from Her Majesty the Queen, but professionally, it would blacklist me.
But really, my photos have nothing to do with why she’s asking me.
She’s asking because she recognises me.
I have my miracle.
I swallow the lump in my throat and offer her a gentle smile. “It would be my honour, Your Majesty.”
“Very well.” Her smile reflects in her eyes. “I’ll let you pack up, and I’ll have someone come and get you shortly. Finley, you’ll be joining us once you’ve changed.”
He hesitates, then nods his head. “Of course, Mother.”
“Fabulous.” She claps her hands together in front of her. “I’m looking forward to it.”
CHAPTER SEVEN – HATTIE
“You don’t have to do this if you’re uncomfortable,” Crown Prince Finley says, looking at me over the top of his cup. “I’m sure you have other things to do. You did say you have to be somewhere this afternoon.”
“It’s fine,” I reply, staring at the green tea being poured into my cup by the maid. “It’s only a personal thing. I can do it another time.”
“Are you sure? My mother won’t mind. You seem a bit nervous.”
“Forgive me, but I was unexpectedly spirited away to the Royal Palace, told that Flynn is actually the Crown Prince of this country, and got invited to tea by the Queen. It might not be strange to you, but for some of us, it’s quite the whirlwind.”
He catches my eye and smiles. “Sorry. You’re right.”
“You’re not upsetting our guest, are you, Finley?” The Queen sweeps into the room with the kind of elegance that can’t be taught. A man who must be pushing his late sixties follows her, and she offers me a wide smile. “Miss Porter, this is my Chief Aide, Rowan. Rowan, this is Hannah Porter. She’s just taken the most wonderful photos of Finley for his birthday.”
I stand and shake his head. “It’s nice to meet you, sir.”
“And you, Miss Porter. I look forward to seeing the photos—Her Majesty seems particularly thrilled with them.”
“I’m very pleased to hear so.” I smile, taking my seat again. “Thank you for this invitation, Your Majesty.”
“Of course, of course.” She smiles to the maid who’s pouring her tea. “You may all leave us.”
Everyone other than Rowan filters out of the room, leaving the four of us alone. A hint of awkwardness fizzles through the air, and I reach for my tea. One sip tells me this is bloody good green tea, but my mouth feels too thick to ask which kind it is.