a deep breath, she walked through the kitchen where Emma grinned at her. Peas were smeared on her cheeks and in her hair. “I think she’s done,” she said in a low voice to Benjamin.
“Think so?” he said in a dry tone. “I made the mistake of giving her the spoon.”
Coco watched Emma bang the spoon on the tray then toss it onto the floor. She winced. “Bad precedent. We’ll need to distract her during her next mealtime.”
Another knock sounded and Coco met Benjamin’s gaze. He rose to walk her to the door. “Just remember what I told you. Even that Emily Post woman says Americans should not bow or curtsey to anyone.”
“I’m pretty sure Emily Post never wrote a column about this particular situation,” she muttered and opened the door.
Benjamin grabbed her arm and lowered his head to press his mouth against hers. “I’ve got your back,” he said.
His reassurance gave her a warm feeling. “Thanks,” she said and joined Mr. Bernard for the second time that day.
Mr. Bernard prepped her for the tea during the short drive to the palace. “I’ll introduce each of the princesses to you individually. Prince Stefan will stop in later, due to his work schedule. Come this way,” he said and guided her down the marble hallway to a small room furnished with a lush wool carpet, antique furniture and a small table set with a sterling tea set, china teacups and saucers, small plates and a small tower of the scones she was not supposed to slice, along with jellies and other treats.
Mr. Bernard stood next to the door while Coco waited and walked around the room. She didn’t want to be suspicious, but she couldn’t help wondering if he were remaining in the room because he thought she might lift a souvenir and try to pocket it. The notion made her fume. She might not have been raised in a palace, but she’d been taught the difference between right and wrong.
Coco took a deep breath and chided herself. Be positive.
Suddenly, she heard footsteps and three women walked through the doorway. Mr. Bernard bowed to each of them. After studying their photographs on the internet, Coco could name each of them. The blonde was Princess Fredericka. The stylish brunette was Princess Bridget and the woman with the sweet face and wild hair and who also appeared to be sporting a baby bump was Princess Phillipa.
“Princess Fredericka, may I present Miss Coco Jordan,” Mr. Bernard said.
In the interest of erring on the side of politeness, Coco attempted a curtsey and briefly bowed her head.
Fredericka extended her hand. “My pleasure to meet you,” she said and stepped aside for Mr. Bernard to introduce Princess Bridget. She also followed with, “My pleasure to meet you.”
The icy formality strained her nerves as she prepared for her third curtsey. “Princess Phillipa, I present Miss Coco Jordan.”
Princess Phillipa took Coco’s hand with both of hers. “My pleasure to meet you. Thank you for coming such a long distance to meet us. Shall we sit and drink tea?”
Coco breathed a slight sigh of relief. At least Princess Phillipa seemed friendly.
A server appeared and poured the tea, asking each person. “Sugar or cream?”
“Just sugar, please,” Coco said. “Thank you very much.”
She watched the princesses do the vertical stirring motion she’d read on the internet and followed their example. A long silence followed.
The princesses exchanged expressions with each other. Bridget set down her teacup. “I understand you live in Texas. As you probably know, our family has associations with several Texans. My sister Princess Valentina lives in Texas with her husband and daughter, and my husband is originally from Texas. Do you like it there?”
“I don’t really know anything else,” Coco said. “I’ve lived there my entire life and haven’t traveled all that much. My experience is that there are a lot of good people in Texas. Because of that, I consider myself pretty lucky.”
Bridget nodded and glanced at Fredericka. “Texas has such charm. I’m not sure I could endure your summers. How do you do it?”
“Air-conditioning and iced tea and lemonade,” she said.
Phillipa laughed. “That sounds like something Eve would say. Eve is our brother Prince Stefan’s wife. She’s also from Texas. I’m not sure how much Mr. Bernard has shared with you or what you may have gleaned from the internet about the family.”
“Mr. Bernard gave me a tour this morning and gave me a brief history lesson on Chantaine and the Devereau family, but it was so much information, I may not be able to pass the quiz if I have to take it this afternoon,” she confessed.
Bridget’s lips lifted in a half smile that she quickly hid with her teacup. “Tell us about yourself.”
Coco immediately felt at a loss. “Well, as you know, I’m from Texas. I’m studying for a degree in early childhood education. Well, I was studying, but my mother became ill.” She noticed that she was cupping her teacup and remembered that was a no-no, so she put one of her hands in her lap.
“We’re sorry for your loss,” Phillipa said. “My husband has recently been through a similar experience with his mother.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. My sympathies to both of you,” Coco said.
“Did I understand correctly that you are working as a nanny?” Bridget asked.
“Yes,” Coco said. “For Benjamin Garner’s daughter, Emma. She’s adorable.”
“How old is she?” Bridget asked.
“Only five months old, but quite verbal.”
Bridget’s eyes rounded in surprise. “She’s already talking?”
“In her special language,” Coco said. “She’s quite the magpie.”
Phillipa laughed. “When you’re not taking care of Emma, what do you like to do?”
“I have to be honest, most of my time has been spent helping Emma adjust to living with her father. Emma’s mother died suddenly less than two months ago. But when I get the chance, I like to fish.”
All three of the princesses stared at her silently, and Coco wondered if she’d overshared.
“Fish?” Fredericka echoed.
Coco nodded. “With a pole and a worm or crawdads.”
“Eve would love this,” Bridget muttered under her breath. “She already thinks we’re a bunch of sissies, so—”
The door to the room opened and Mr. Bernard announced, “His Royal Highness, Prince Stefan.”
Coco’s mind went blank, but she noticed the princesses rose, so she did the same. Clumsily. She knocked over her teacup, spilling the brown liquid onto the exquisite tablecloth.
“Oh, no! I’m so sorry. I—” She reached for
