“I think that’s the look,” I said carefully. “I’ve seen a lot of women with it.”
“Francesca is not like other women, or at least she won’t be when she marries into the family. You need to speak to her about it. It looks bad for us and reflects badly on the king.” Mother got a faraway look in her eye before she spoke again. “I wonder if I can get her in to see Antonio. He could give her some extensions and do something about that awful color. And her eyebrows…I know thick eyebrows are all the rage at the moment, but there is a line between fashionably thick and unibrow.” Mother stood and smoothed her skirt. “Right,” she said decisively. “Don’t worry, I will handle this.”
Before I could say anything, Mother was stalking from the office leaving me staring after her. I did not know what she intended to do, but I did know I needed to warn Frankie. If anyone had any chance of stopping my mother in her tracks, it was Frankie. She was the only other person, apart from Effie, who would stand up to her and not be bulldozed.
I grabbed my phone and opened the text message app.
L: Warning! My mother is on the warpath, and she has you in her sights.
F: What? Why? What have I done?
L: No clue, although she said something about your hair.
F: My hair? What’s wrong with my hair?
Okay, maybe I should have thought through what I would say because I felt very much like I was walking through a minefield right now and one wrong step could leave me in pieces.
L: Maybe it wasn’t your hair…
F: Lucas Estevan Andino you tell me right now what your mother said about my hair!
L: Estevan is not my middle name, as you very well know.
F: Stop avoiding the question! What did she say?
L: Shzz grzz mrrh...you’re breaking up. I’m going through a tunnel…bszxa
F: LUCAS!
I put my phone on silent and tossed it in a drawer in my desk. I was not prepared for the can of worms I just opened up. I was being a coward, I knew, but at least I warned her about my mother’s agenda. We would only have to put up with it for a couple more weeks and then we would be halfway across the world and out of my mother’s reach. Besides, Frankie was quite capable of saying no and nothing my mother could say would change that.
Francesca
Thanks to Lucas’ infuriating text, I knew Maya Andino was coming for me, but that didn’t stop me from being surprised when she turned up on my doorstep. I didn’t even think she knew where I lived, although it would have been easy enough to find out.
“Mrs. Andino,” I said as I opened the door.
She looked me over and her mouth formed a moue of distaste. “Francesca,” she said, stepping past me into the foyer.
She looked around, taking everything in. The brownstone was immaculately decorated, and the cleaner had only just been so there was not a speck of dust to be seen.
“You have a…lovely home,” she said before looking at me and narrowing her eyes.
What as that saying about damning with faint praise?
“Is there something I can do for you, Mrs. Andino?” I asked with no small amount of exasperation.
“We need to talk, Francesca,” she answered briskly.
“My name is Frankie,” I replied, “and what exactly do we need to talk about?”
“Your image.”
“My image? What is it exactly about my image that we need to discuss?”
Maya narrowed her eyes at me. “All of…this,” she said, circling her hand in front of me to encompass my entire self.
I crossed my arms over my chest and cocked a hip. “Would you like to be a little more specific? No, wait, the better question is, what has my ‘image’ got to do with you?”
“Must we have this conversation out here in the foyer like savages?” Maya asked.
I huffed and led the way to the formal sitting room we hardly ever used. Maya sat gingerly on one of the wingback armchairs and I curled a leg under my backside as I sat on the couch. Maya grimaced at my blatant un-ladylike posture but said nothing. I may have been doing it just to annoy her, but she didn’t need to know that.
“I understand you’re a modern, independent woman, Francesca—”
“Frankie,” I corrected, but she went on as if I hadn’t spoken.
“But you are about to become a markissia and that title comes with some responsibility.”
“I don’t see how—”
“No, I suppose you wouldn’t. You Americans, you don’t understand the subtle challenges of being royal. You are loud and brash and are more concerned with your individuality than being concerned with how that individuality affects others. Lucas is about to become part of the king’s trusted circle, part of his oikos. Lucas will be a representative of the king and as his wife, so will you. You have a responsibility to represent not only the king, but Lucas in the best possible light and not to embarrass either of them. You are no longer an independent individual, you are part of something bigger, something grander, something far more important than just yourself.”
I opened my mouth to defend her attack on not just me but my entire country, but she went on without letting me speak.
“I don’t say this to offend you but merely to point out that you now have a higher calling and as such, you need to do better. You can’t yell at the press. You can’t leave your house wearing ripped jeans and ratty t-shirts. And for the love of all that is holy, please, I beg of you, do something with that rats’ nest you call hair.”
My hand lifted to my hair, and I had to admit it resembled a bit of a rats’ nest. I had done nothing with it since I got out of bed and no doubt the short curls were rioting all over my head.
“While I understand your concern—”
“Do you, though?” Maya asked, tilting her head to the side as she looked at me. “Because if you did, if you really loved my son, then you wouldn’t be about to tell me to mind my own business. I do understand, Francesca. Believe me, I do. I was not born to royalty. I married Lucas’ father when I was a poor commoner on Kalopsia. I was wide eyed and naïve about marrying a markissios, just as you are. I had ideas and plans of how my life would look and then I fell in love with Demetrius and I had to make a choice. His mother was far from as accepting of me as I am of you. So please understand that I come to you with the very best of intentions. I love my son and I want the best for him and that means helping you to do better. For his sake.”
“Are you saying you would interfere with our engagement if I don’t do as you say?” I asked through gritted teeth.
Maya looked down at her perfect manicure and I shot a quick glance to my far-from-perfect one.
“All I’m saying is, if the king were to see you behaving the way you did the other day with the press, then perhaps he would withdraw his invitation.”
“Well then maybe we should let the king decide if I’m an appropriate partner for Lucas? You haven’t been back to Kalopsia in twelve years, in fact, you pretty much turned your back on the country so forgive me if I can’t take your experiences as relevant in this situation.”
Maya stared at me for a long moment and I bit the inside of my cheek, cursing myself for letting my anger and indignation get the better of me.