The sunlit garden of the Thompson estate was a picture of serenity. On a wide marble terrace, under the shade of a silk canopy, a formal luncheon was underway.
A harpist, tucked in a shaded alcove, strummed a soft, intricate melody that mixed with the gentle sound of the fountain and the polite, low murmur of conversation.
"Long live Her Royal Highness," the women chanted, a chorus of silks and jewels, as the Crown Princess took her seat at the head of the long, elegant table.
Beatrice, the Dowager Duchess, sat at the other end. The Thompson family women—Marissa and Ashlyn—were seated along the sides, interspersed with the Princess's own ladies-in-waiting. The atmosphere was one of refined grace. Servants in Thompson uniform moved silently, serving delicate courses of poached fish, roasted quail, and sweet, chilled wine.
