Tapping the pen against her chin, she tried to remember the rest. Something about dancing. She’d have to think about it later.

Diana set the agenda down and went closer to the mirror. She’d been so proud of the way she aged—her kids said she didn’t look a day over thirty-nine—but now, the shadows on her face made her look older. Not to mention, the fear in her eyes brought out wrinkles she never knew she had.

Funny how, no matter how carefully she placed entries into that agenda of hers, things never seemed to turn out the way she wanted. Maybe that kind of control was impossible, and a waste of her time.

She ran her hands over her face, smoothing the wrinkles back, then looked at the time on the clock.

It was nearly time to get ready for the ball.

But as she looked at herself, she made a promise. She’d drink, laugh, dance, and enjoy. This time, she’d be more relaxed. This time, she’d leave the agenda in the drawer, relinquish control, and embrace whatever was going to happen . . . good or bad.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

When Diana stepped off the shuttle to Versailles, she gasped.

Yes, like everyone, she’d seen pictures of the palace. Many pictures, especially once Stéphane came into her life. In fact, that had been her favorite pastime in those weeks after he went back to France—staring at photos of the opulent rooms and imagining walking arm in arm with her love. But nothing had quite prepared her for the sheer enormity of the place when she was standing in front of it.

The shuttle dropped her off—still a long walk from the actual building. She and the other people on the bus meandered about the lush gardens which seemed to stretch on forever, gradually coming closer to the main building. Once she climbed the front steps to the massive entrance, a number of employees in period costumes, right down to the powdered wigs, checked her ticket and motioned for her to go into a tent that had been set up on the grounds.

When she went inside, her jaw dropped. The place was full of everything she could possibly need—wigs, jewelry, shoes, and, of course, gowns of every color and fabric. The tent was also full of partygoers, all in the midst of preparing for the big event. Despite a number of fans going at full blast, the air inside was warm and positively buzzing with the excitement. Everyone seemed in a jovial mood.

“Hello, my name is Colette, and I will be helping transform you tonight!” a woman in an ornate Marie Antoinette-style wig and pink gown said, running an eye over Diana from head to toe. “I hope you are ready!”

Getting into the festive spirit of the event and reminding herself to relax, Diana nodded, “Oui!”

“You have beautiful pale skin. So lovely. I see something in a ruby red with a low decolletage, yes?”

“Well . . . let’s not go too daring,” she began. She never wore red—she was used to the New York City uniform, nothing but black, white, and shades between. And a low neckline? She was used to buttoning her blouses all the way up to the top.