Her Royal Highness (Royals #2)(16)

“Unbelievable,” Perry mutters, but before Saks can reply, a woman walks into the room. She’s wearing a fairly boring gray suit, but her hair is almost as red as Perry’s, and it’s pulled back from her face in a flattering updo.

“Ladies!” she says brightly, clapping her hands together. Then her eyes land on Perry, and she frowns.

“Ladies and Mr. Fowler, perhaps I should say.”

Mumbling an apology around a mouthful of cake, Perry gets up, dragging his chair back against the wall before slinking out with a quick wave to me and Sakshi.

She sighs as he goes. “Hopeless Perry.”

“I hope for his sake that’s not an actual nickname,” I mutter, and Sakshi laughs, briefly touching my knee.

“It should be.”

The lady in the gray suit gestures for us to stand, and we do. Well, most of us do. I glance over and see that Flora takes her time unwinding from her comfy position on the sofa.

I also notice the way the lady in the suit’s eyes flick down to take in Flora’s lack of uniform, and the slight frown she gives.

But then she smiles at all of us, hands once again clasped in front of her. “Ladies,” she begins again. “I am Dr. McKee, your headmistress. Welcome to Gregorstoun. I hope you’ve all felt very welcome on your first official day.”

We all nod and make general murmuring sounds of agreement, and then a voice rings out, clear and posh, lilting and musical.

“I was not made to feel very welcome, Dr. McKee,” Flora says, and then she glances over at me, lips curling.





CHAPTER 10





We all stand there in the drawing room, focused on Flora, which is probably her idea of heaven. She seems like the type of girl who’s very invested in being the center of attention.

And I stand there and wait for the ground to swallow me up, or for guards to rush in and seize me for daring to call the princess a name.

But then, her lips still curled in that cat-that-got-the-canary smile, Flora looks at Dr. McKee and says, “Sebastian told me there were bagpipers on the first day.” She lifts one shoulder in an elegant half shrug. “I’m afraid I don’t feel welcome anywhere that doesn’t provide the appropriate fanfare.”

She winks then—actually winks! At a teacher! No, not a teacher, a headmistress—and giggles run through the room.

I sigh in relief, only to feel my shoulders tense right back up when Flora once again meets my eyes.

She winks again, but this time it isn’t cheeky or cute.

Shaking her head, Dr. McKee clasps her hands behind her back. “We’ll try to do better in the future, Miss Baird,” she says. “Perhaps someone can play the kazoo for you as you make your way to the showers in the morning.”

More giggles, and then she walks across the room to a heavy wooden door, opens it, and waves us inside.

“Miss Baird?” I ask Sakshi in a low voice as we trudge along with the herd of girls. “Not Your Majesty?”

“That would be for the queen,” Saks replies over her shoulder at me. “Flora’s an HRH.”

When I just stare at her, she clarifies, “Her Royal Highness. But in any case, it doesn’t matter here. No titles, that’s the rule. It’s why I’m Miss Worthington instead of Lady Sakshi.”

I almost stop in my tracks, which would’ve probably caused some kind of domino effect of plaid. “You’re a lady?” I ask, and Sakshi nods, flicking her heavy bangs out of her eyes.

“My father is the Duke of Alcott, which makes me a lady, but definitely not an HRH.” Then she grins. “Yet. But anyway, Flora is Miss Baird whenever she’s here, yes.”

Maybe it’s because I spent so much of my time thinking about what Gregorstoun would mean to me without paying that much attention to what the school was like, or maybe it’s that Gregorstoun does a good job of downplaying just how fancy it actually is, but I haven’t really thought about what it would be like to go to school with someone who has a title. The royals are one thing, but even the “normal” people here are fancier than I thought they’d be, and that’s . . .

“Weird” doesn’t even start to cover it. How much else don’t I know?

The room we’ve been led into is a lot less cozy than the drawing room, and about ten degrees colder. The walls are stone, the windows thicker, and in the center of the floor is a ginormous circular oak table. The chandeliers overhead appear to be made of . . . antlers? Yeah, definitely antlers, and while they use light bulbs instead of candles, the effect is still awfully medieval.

“Is this where we’re made into knights?” I ask Saks, and she snorts as we pull up seats next to each other at the table.

Flora sits near the other end with those other two girls, and Saks glances over at her.

“Blimey, she’s a piece of work,” she murmurs. “I’d forgotten what she was like.”

“You knew Flora before?” I ask, and she nods.

“Similar social circles and all that. She wasn’t always as bad as she is now, though. In fact, when we were small, I quite liked her, but then when she turned thirteen, it all went a bit bratty, to be honest. Sebastian’s always been a mess. He got banned from an entire city block in London when he was only twelve. Or so the rumor goes.”