shook her head.
“I don’t know. Some guy showed up at work and said the duchess wanted to have dinner with me. I guess Dr. Geller forgot to tell me she was coming.” I looked at the dresses in my hands and put the blue back. Black was probably the safest option. That way if I spilled anything on myself, it wouldn’t be overly obvious.
“Some guy said she wanted to have dinner with you. Why do you think this has anything to do with Dr. Geller?” Jess crossed her legs and I realized she wasn’t leaving. “Seems pretty fishy. Are you sure he is who he says he is?” Jess was pretty practical when things boiled down to it.
“I think so. And if not, then I’ll have only wasted one night.” I shrugged. “Why else would a duchess want to talk to me? And she was at the school earlier. Maybe she’s a donor or something.” I laid the dress out on the bed and thought about jewelry. “I have no idea how to talk to her. I mean, do I address her as Duchess? My lady? Your Highness?” This wasn’t something I’d grown up knowing. It wasn’t like I was from England.
“The Internet is our friend!” Jess grabbed my laptop off the bedside table and popped it open. She typed for a moment and then looked up at me. “They are from Lilaria, right? Says here they’re big into birds, so I guess it makes sense.”
“Okay. What about their royalty?” I turned to look back at my closet, realizing I didn’t have an appropriate jacket.
“Just the usual stuff. A prince is addressed as His Royal Highness.” Jess skimmed through the link she was reading. “Address the duchess as Duchess Whatever. But it says you should adopt their type of formality.”
“So, I shouldn’t call him Prince-dude or her Royal-lady?”
“I think you nailed that one on the head.” Jess closed the computer. “You’ll be fine. Just be the charming person I know you can be.”
“Note to self: Don’t eat with fingers or burp in their faces. Got it.” I smiled at Jess and she laughed.
“We’ll save you some chili.” Jess got up and looked at me. “Text me when you get there and let me know it’s legit.”
“Sure.” I smiled at her over my shoulder as I headed for my bathroom. Time to make myself presentable. Thank God, I had time to shower.
Chapter Two
Royals in Rags
—The Chicago Gazette
My truck sounded like it was on its last leg as I pulled up to the hotel. The traffic had been terrible, so I didn’t have time to park the thing myself and avoid the embarrassment of valet. Cursing under my breath, I tried to stuff some of the garbage from the bench under the seat before the attendant opened my door. Looking up I smiled at the young guy.
“Sorry, the Bentley is being detailed.”
“Looks to me like you traded up, ma’am. This is a classic.” He held his hand out and helped me out of the car. I smiled gratefully at him because I had let Jess talk me into wearing heels tonight. He handed me my ticket and I gave him my keys.
I tried to not cringe as my truck made a coughing noise before it pulled away. The hostess was watching me through the glass doors, so I took a deep breath and held my head high, all the time quietly praying I wouldn’t end up busting my ass in the damn shoes. The doorman opened the door for me, but even he had a look of disdain as he studied me.
Chili was already sounding much better. Hopefully the food would be decent. And not overly expensive. I’d just sent three hundred dollars to the hospital for my dad’s monthly payment. To say I was scraping the bottom of the barrel would be putting it nicely. I smiled at the hostess, hoping that being polite would smooth over the truck fiasco.
“Hi. I’m meeting Duchess Sverelle for dinner.”
“Does she know you’re coming?” The blond woman’s voice grated on my ears. It was high and nasally. Why would they want that for their first impression? There are lots of blond, modelesque women who would love a job like this. Her eyes narrowed and ran over me in disgust.
“Since she’s the one who invited me, I would assume so.” Operation Nice was over.
“Uh huh. And what’s your name?” The woman looked down at the list in front of her with so much seriousness you would