CHAPTER 4
Despite her having consumed vast amounts of champagne, the only wooziness Robin felt was from the weight of her white powdered wig, but she still looked ravishing. Poor A.J., he thought. He'd really hoped she'd dress as Little Lord Fauntleroy. He loved her in those little boy outfits or in masses of sausage curls and ribbons. Well, Robin knew she might still seem a girl to A.J., but her mirror told her she was a woman, and one on the wrong side of fifty.
She’d placated him somewhat, her fingers teasing his white, translucent hair, pointing out that she was, after all, dressed as a Queen. Wasn’t she, after all, his queen, and he, her King? He smiled at that. Left unsaid was that she’d, more pointedly, dressed as Catherine the Great, and that her entrance would be made holdin
