Page 39 of A Cinderella Christmas

He bit back a smile. “That is also correct, madam. I have made an offer of marriage to Miss Archer, and she has accepted.”

“That is one mystery solved, at least.” She returned her attention to Eve. “Come out here, my dear, so I can better see your gown. Lord Cokesbury, if you will do the honors—”

At once, he separated the tables so Eve could go through. The queen spent several moments examining the truly amazing embroidery that went all around the hem, with the Father Christmas design at the center of the front.

“How long did this take you?” she asked Eve.

“Three weeks. But I worked on it several hours a day and at night, too.”

“No need to be modest with me, my dear,” the queen said. “It’s astonishing. Don’t you think so, Harriet?”

“It’s even better than anything my aunt could have done.”

Her Majesty sighed. “Such a pity that you are marrying His Lordship, Miss Archer. Harriet and I could give you more work than you could possibly handle, and pay you well for it, too.”

“Forgive me, Your Majesty,” Mr. Archer said, sounding peeved, “but my niece is a gentlewoman. Even if she did not marry, she would not need ‘work.’ I would see to it that she was supported.”

The queen stared him down. “I should hope so. From everything I’ve heard, you have been lax in that respect.”

Good God, did she know of what had been going on? Or had she been informed of it by someone?

He caught a look passing between his mother and the queen. Ah, yes. Mother had obviously had a hand in informing the queen of the Archers’ situation.

“I-I was ill,” Eve’s uncle said. “But I will make sure it’s taken care of from now on.”

“See that you do.” Her Majesty turned to James. “And who is this fellow gawking at me from behind his mother’s skirts?”

Eve’s mother thrust James forward. “My son, James William Archer, Your Majesty.”

“I’m supposed to be the Baron Archer, Your Majesty,” James said sullenly.

But before Noel could even chide the boy, the queen said, eyes twinkling, “Yes, you are.” She leveled her gaze on Uriah Archer again. “You’ll see to it that the lad also receives his proper due, won’t you?”

Mr. Archer colored. “I will, Your Majesty.”

Meanwhile, James was staring up at the queen in awe. “You’re very pretty, Your Majesty.” The poor lad must be nervous. Whenever James got nervous, he blurted out the first thing that leapt into his mind.

The queen laughed. “And you, sir, are a rascal.”

“I’m trying not to be,” James said. “Noel—I mean, Lord Cokesbury—has been helping me.”

“I’m not so sure Lord Cokesbury is any less of a rascal than you are, Master Archer,” the queen quipped. “What do you think, Miss Archer?”

“I think they are both charming rascals, Your Majesty. My brother only slightly less so than my fiancé.”

“I can well imagine.” Queen Charlotte sobered. “I must continue. But thank you for submitting your lovely work to this endeavor.”

Eve curtsied exactly as Noel’s mother had taught her to do, and the queen moved on.

It wasn’t much later that Queen Charlotte and Mrs. Machill came to the end of the tables. Then followed some discussion between the two ladies while those at the tables whispered furtively among themselves.

At last, Mrs. Machill called for the attention of everyone. The queen gushed over how many of the submissions were stellar and how proud she was of the quality of embroidery amongst ladies in a time when it was declining in some circles. Then she announced the winner.

It was no surprise, at least to any of their party, when she named Eve’s submission—The Mistletoe Slippers.

Without so much as a look of triumph in Margaret’s direction, Eve walked forward to accept her certificate and hand the slippers to the queen. After the applause died down and the entrants began to form small groups while waiting for the auction of the rest of the items to begin, Noel, his mother, and Eve’s family were allowed to go to the front where Eve stood watching the queen try on the slippers.

“Nearly a perfect fit!” the queen said. “I will have to add a bit of padding, but I can wear them, which is what I’d much prefer. Displays are so cold and impersonal.” As she removed the slippers and handed them off to one of her ladies, before putting on her own again, she said to Eve, “I do have one question for you about your embroidery. Why did you change your design on the slippers from holly to mistletoe?”