Page 72 of Royally Matched

I lift my hand to the back of my head and feel my hair tucked tightly away.

“What if you wore your hair loose?”

“Loose?” I cough, as though the mere idea of not wearing my hair in a tidy French twist or bun is completely outlandish.

Dana’s lips curve into a smile. “You look beautiful with your hair down, and I’m one of the few people who actually gets to see it, other than your family at times. You could wear your sunglasses with your hair down and wear more casual clothes, like jeans and a T-shirt. The sorts of thing Amelia wears.”

Jeans and a T-shirt are possibly a step too far.

“Let’s try the hair first, shall we?” I reach for my head and pull out four or five bobby pins that are holding my hair in place and shake it out.

“See? Beautiful.”

I turn to look in the mirror and see a woman dressed in a demure pale blue dress with a crew neck and puff sleeves, with a pair of pale blue matching pumps on her feet, her thick dark hair falling in soft waves over her shoulders.

When I turn back to Dana, she’s no longer in the room. “Dana?” I call.

She reappears in the doorway a moment later, holdinga pair of pale, frayed jeans, a plain T-shirt, and a dark green sweatshirt with a hood.

I quirk an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

“Trust me. You won’t look like Princess Sofia in the least, and that’s the plan, right?”

“I suppose it is.” I take the clothing from her and quickly change into the jeans, T-shirt, and sweatshirt. Dana produces my running shoes, which I slip onto my feet.

“Perfect,” she declares, and I turn to my reflection in the mirror once more. This time I’m met with an entirely different person. Gone is the prim and proper princess-appropriate dress, replaced with a much more casual, relaxed, and altogether more everyday looking woman.

Lemon sniffs my leg, probably trying to work out in her doggy brain why I look different.

“What do you think, girl?” I ask as I pet her head.

Her response is to continue sniffing me, which her sister also begins to do.

“Well, Lemon and Pepper like it. I think,” I say. “Where did you get these clothes?”

“From Amelia’s lady’s maid.”

I turn to her, aghast. “You didn’t tell her anything, did you?”

She shakes her head. “Of course not. I told her I needed to borrow the clothes for myself, and after throwing me a questioning look, she handed them to me and told me not to get them dirty.”

“It’s a good thing Amelia and I wear the same size. Thank you, Theresa,” I say with a smile, naming Amelia’s lady’s maid. I slide the sunglasses on top of my head and sling my handbag over my shoulder. “Right. I need to go.”

“You call me if there’s any problem at all. Promise?” Dana says.

“Promise.”

Seventeen minutes later, I pull my car into a parking space outside a three-story Victorian brick building, with little balconies in neat rows running the full length of the street.

Although I’m excited to be heading to Monteluce with Marco to finally find out what the scrolls says, I admit the idea of being with him for an entire day is both exciting and terrifying. I only just reaffirmed in my head my conscious choice of the man who is right for me on paper. Now I’m about to go on the sort of adventure I’ve never been on in my life, to an unknown village deep in the mountains with the one man who makes my heart sing, but a man who is so very wrong for me.

I refuse to overthink it. We are going on a mission to solve the riddle. Nothing more.

With the engine still running, I pull my phone out of my handbag and am about to text Marco to let him know I’ve arrived when the glossy black front door of the apartment block swings open, and he steps outside, throwing me a quick wave.

He’s wearing a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, sneakers on his feet and his usual smile in place. My heart gives an involuntary squeeze at the sight of him, and I give myself a stern talking to.

He climbs into the passenger seat beside me and lets out a low whistle. “Excellent car,Principessa,” he says, using the nickname he gave me, the nickname that makes my chest tighten. “A 280SL in British racing green.” He runs his fingers along the dashboard as though petting a fine horse.