She cruised by him at a pretty swift clip, too. So fast that he couldn’t get a full look at whatever they’d done to her in there. “Let’s go.”
“What about Miss Wishner?” Mallory was still seated with two stylists bent over her head.
“They wouldn’t even start her until the bluebloods left. She, ah, encouraged me to go get some air. With you.”
Two long strides caught him up. And then he did a double take. Kelsey had definitely been made over into Her Royal Highness Princess Kelsey. Her hair was…fancier. Shinier. Bigger. Almost identical to Genevieve’s. As was her makeup.
“You look very regal.” And then he took another look. All the layers of powder and lipstick couldn’t disguise the turmoil tightening her features. He didn’t dare touch her, what with footmen every twenty steps and maids and under-butlers crossing their path. “Your Highness, what’s wrong?”
She paused, right in front of a footman, who scrambled to open the door for her. However, Elias knew it was the door to the security division, so he shook his head to stall the man.
Head swiveling left then right, Kelsey threw up her arms and asked, “Which one of these six hundred doors leads outside?”
“Many, but it’s raining. Do you want to walk off whatever’s bothering you, or do you want to talk about it?”
“I’d prefer to do six shots of tequila.”
“Problem solved.” He led her up two flights of the carpeted stairs. As they walked silently along the thickly carpeted hall, Elias had a fleeting thought of how much fun it might be to sit around and get buzzed with this beautiful, witty woman. But this clearly was not the right time or circumstance for any fun to be had. Not from the clench of her jaw and the way her hands stayed fisted as they swung at her sides.
They entered the snooker room. It had the green-felted table, of course. A highly polished wooden bar carved—so legend went—from a single enormous tree at the top of Mount Siljikan under which friars brewed up the very first ale in the land.
Total bullshit, of course, but it was a beautifully ornate piece that deserved a good story. As he slipped behind the bar and collected glasses, Elias said, “We’re guaranteed privacy. Nobody comes in here but Christian, and he’s at an event overnight in Rome.”
“Hanging with the pope?”
“The Italian prime minister, actually. Along with the mayors of Rome, Naples, and Venice.”
Kelsey’s jaw dropped. “Oh God. I was kidding. For a second there, I forgot I’ve got a family now that might hang out with the pope for real.”
“Pope Linus II isn’t so much about hangouts. Christian and his father did dinner with him at the Vatican about five years ago. King Julian made up an excuse to leave as soon as dessert was served. And the king never, ever cuts short an official duty.”
She traced the outline of a peacock on the edge of the bar. “What was wrong?”
“Apparently, His Holiness is both boring and pompous. I guess some people take being a direct conduit to God as license to think they’re better than everyone.” There. A wan smile lifted the corners of Kelsey’s mouth. He’d have to say an extra novena at Mass tomorrow, but the blasphemy was worth it to lift her spirits.
Kelsey moved to stand in front of the fireplace. She craned her neck to look up at the painting above it of a castle with regiments of men marching away, battle flags unfurled in the stiff wind. “What’s this?”
“Castle Navarro. From the seventeenth century. Depicting the last time our troops rode off to war. The palace curator moved it in here to commemorate the four hundredth anniversary. They’ll cycle it out before the fireplace gets lit again in the fall. It’s too old to risk any smoke damage.”
“Does the castle still exist?”
“Yes. Not the best place to vacation. A few bathrooms have been added, but no air conditioning or heat. It’s mostly a tourist attraction that helps fund other restoration efforts throughout the kingdom.” Elias joined her, because he’d let her stall long enough. “Do you really want to talk about artwork?”
“No. I mean, yes, I do. It’s beautiful and fascinating to discover that almost all the paintings have a history. My family’s history.” She wrinkled her nose at the dark liquid in the small, fluted crystal glass he held out. “What’s that?”
“A measure of port. This will take the edge off. Your requested six shots of tequila would leave you in no state for the formal portrait session in an hour.”
“You’re always looking out for me, aren’t you?”
“It is both my job and my privilege.” Elias didn’t dare risk touching the photo-ready hair and makeup, so he curved his hand around her shoulder. “Let me help you now. Please, Kelsey. Trust that you can reveal any problem to me, and I’ll do everything in my power to fix it.”
“Ah.” With a cynical smile—something he’d never before seen on her—she shook a finger in his face. “You wisely hedged your bets with that ‘in my power’ phrase, because it turns out you can’t fix this. You can’t fix the bone-deep sadness weighing me down at discovering that my mother committed suicide.”
Ah, indeed.
Maybe it was a bad cliché, but weren’t beauty salons supposed to be full of gossip and fashion chit-chat? How on earth had two hours with her sister, aunt, and grandmother turned into a revelation about the darkest moment in their family’s recent history?
God, he hoped it hadn’t been the grand duchess filling in the details. Her distinct lack of warmth would’ve made a bad situation unbearable.
This was definitely far, far out of his scope to fix. But Elias could sympathize. He set down his drink on the carved wooden mantel and gripped her other shoulder, too. “It is a horrible knowledge to carry, but Queen Serena was very, very sick. I’m told that many tried to help her. Much like an advanced cancer, her depression was simply too great to be treated.”
“I get that.” She crossed her arm over her chest to squeeze his hand.
“It truly had nothing to do with you, Kelsey.”
“Don’t worry. I’m not casting blame—or taking it on myself.” Her tone was resolute, but not laced with any guilt, which was a relief. “I understand the basics of mental illness. Raised by medical professionals, remember?”
Elias noted her word choice. Was she being cautious in not calling the Wishners her parents inside Alcarsa Palace? Or simply trying to delineate in her mind between those who nurtured her, and those who wished they’d had that chance?
“I wish there was something more I could tell you. Some way of easing the shock and pain.”