AMELIA WOKE ON THURSDAY, the morning of the announcement, to gloomy skies and unsteady nerves. Her rooms in the palace, low-ceilinged and dark-walled, seemed small despite its luxurious furnishings and the delicate cream color of the bed hangings.
She wondered how Arthur could stand to live in a place this dark. Modern LED lighting and strategically placed mirrors only did so much in such an old building. But perhaps the moodiness suited him, the habitually mournful Prince of Wales. Although, surely, he hadn’t been perpetually sad when Imogene was alive and lived here with him.
When Amelia arrived downstairs to the breakfast room, Arthur was already there. One of his dogs was curled up at his feet and perked up its ears at the sight of her.
“Good morning,” Arthur said warmly, folding hi
