A Royal Christmas Quandary

by Samantha Hastings

  His father clapped a heavy hand on George’s shoulder. “Prince Friedrich had better be at dinner, or Queen Victoria will be forced to come to his rooms and find him.”

  “Th-the Queen?”

  “It’s a state visit, son. And Prince Friedrich is her second cousin. She’s naturally concerned that the prince should be ill while under her sovereignty.”

  Worse and worse.

  George pictured Queen Victoria’s response to Herr Bauer in the state room instead of the prince who was supposed to be courting her daughter: She’d look remarkably like Bloody Mary as she’d yell, “Off with George’s head!”

  He gulped and touched his neck. “The prince will be at dinner.”

  His father had a ghost of a smile on his lips as he nodded. “And George…”

  “Yes, sir?”

  “I received a letter today from Lord Loftus,” he said. “He says he would be delighted to have you join his staff in Austria.”

  “Father, you know I don’t want to go.”

  The Duke of Doverly clapped George on the shoulder again, ignoring his protest. “Prince Friedrich better be at dinner.”

  His father didn’t wait for a response before walking away.

  At that moment, George could’ve happily consigned all monarchies to perdition. He had no desire to serve any monarch, under any flag. All he really wanted to be was an engineer.

  And what do engineers do?

  They solved problems by their ingenuity. They built bridges, tunnels, towers, canals, and more. George just needed to think of some way to fix the situation.

  He looked at the problem from the beginning. The servants had put a valet in the room of a prince. They had clearly mistaken him for His Royal Highness, as George had. Herr Bauer had resided in the prince’s quarters for most of a day before Drina was the first to notice. And no one since had realized his true identity.

  “That’s it!” he said aloud, punching a hole through the top of his hat in excitement.

  The servants already believed that Herr Bauer was the Crown Prince of Hoburg, which meant that all the lords and ladies would believe it, too. He walked back and forth in the corridor.

  But what of Drina’s parents, Lord and Princess Rothfield? And most important of all, Queen Victoria? Could they be hoodwinked?

  He put his hat back on his head, the top only holding on by a few threads. He must have looked ridiculous, but in that moment, he no longer cared. Drina and her parents hadn’t seen Prince Friedrich since he was ten years old; Nearly eight years would have changed him greatly. Drina hadn’t known instantly that he wasn’t her cousin. As long as George kept Herr Bauer far enough away from the Rothfields and the royal family, everything would be fine.

  He knocked on the prince’s door loudly and Herr Bauer answered it with a bow. “Guten Tag, Herr Vorthington.”

  George bowed. “And a guten Tag to you, Herr Bauer.” He cleared his throat and then pointed to the valet. “You, come—uh—eat—essen, mit me.”

  He pointed next to himself. Then he brought his hands to his mouth and pretended to eat. He pointed to Herr Bauer and then back to himself again for good measure.

  “Ja,” Herr Bauer said and walked out of his room.

  George shook his head and held up his right hand to stop him. “No—nein.”

  How could he explain it?

  He took off his broken hat and dropped it on the floor. He pointed to Herr Bauer and then shaped his hands in a circle and put it on his head.

  Herr Bauer shook his head. He didn’t understand what George was trying to mimic. George exhaled slowly and then held out his hand as if he was holding a scepter and put his other hand on his head in a fist. He probably looked ridiculous.

  “Königin?”

  “Yes, ja!” George said. “You eat,” he mimicked eating again, “mit Königin.”

  Herr Bauer’s jaw dropped. George took the man by the arm and led him back into the prince’s rooms. No one would believe a prince would be dressed for dinner like that. And George couldn’t lend him his own clothing—the fellow was a head taller and at least two stones heavier. He led him to the locked trunks and prayed that the prince was about the same height.

  “Keys?” he asked, and shook his hand like he was holding a ring of keys.

  “Schlüssel?” Herr Bauer offered.

  “Most likely,” George said. “Schlüssel.”

  Herr Bauer shook his head and George thought he said something to the effect that Prince Friedrich had the Shlüssel—keys.

  Well, then George would have to pick the lock. He’d picked plenty of locks when he was a boy. He held up one finger to Herr Bauer. “One minute.”

  George went to his own room, two doors down, where his valet was shining his shoes.

  “I need something sharp,” he demanded. “Quick, man.”

  Mr. Humphrey bowed to George and without any hurry, took out a long needle from the shoe-shining kit. “Its purpose is to sew shoes, my lord.”

  “It will have a new purpose today,” George said. “Please have my dinner clothes ready. I’ll be back in a trice.”

  George ran down the hall back to Herr Bauer’s room. He walked into the room without saying a word and went straight to the metal trunks. Kneeling by the closest one, he stuck the needle into the keyhole of the lock. He bit his lip and angled the needle in several directions before he heard a click and the lock opened. George threw open the top of the trunk, revealing perfectly packed military-style jackets and a plethora of shirts, trousers, and male effects.

  Herr Bauer spoke rapidly in German.

  “I have no idea what you said, my good man,” George said, shrugging. He picked up the most ostentatious coat he could find and handed it to the valet.

  Herr Bauer refused to take it, shaking his head vehemently.

  George pushed the coat against the man’s chest. “For the Königin.”

  “Die Königin?”

  “Königin,” George said firmly.

  Herr Bauer took off the jacket he was wearing and replaced it with the fancy coat. It fit remarkably well—the prince must be a tall man as well. If George didn’t know better, he would have believed that this tall, proud man was a prince. A startling thought came to him: The only difference between a prince and a peasant was their clothes. A prince wasn’t necessarily any smarter or more talented than his servants—Bertie was more charming than clever. The difference between the classes was education, training, and money—not something innate at birth. And even though George had been born an aristocrat, he was just like any other man. With the right training and correct suit of clothes he could be anything …

  He could be an engineer.

  George smiled and nodded encouragingly at Herr Bauer. Then he pulled out his pocket watch and pointed to the number seven and then to himself.

  “I’ll be back at seven to get you.”

  “Seven,” Herr Bauer said.

  “Seven,” he repeated, and went back to his own rooms down the hall. Mr. Humphrey had already laid out his evening clothes. George handed the man his hat and coat. His valet scowled when he saw the hole in this hat; he didn’t say anything but gave George several glares of disapproval as he helped him into his dinner clothes. At least Mr. Humphrey had stopped asking what happened to the other coat, trousers, and shirt that Drina borrowed. George was tired of lying.

  To his ornery valet.

  To his father.

  But most of all to himself.

  * * *

  As George escorted Herr Bauer into the State Dining Room, most of the guests were already seated, including his father and Queen Victoria. He took several steps forward before realizing that Herr Bauer was still standing by the door, looking awestruck. George had to admit that the State Dining Room was rather an impressive sight. The carpet was a rich crimson and the walls might have been cream, but there was enough gold on the woodwork to make the whole room look golden by gaslight.

  George gently tugged at the fellow’s arm and
led him to a seat as far from Drina’s parents as possible.

  Unfortunately, the chair was next to the Lady Clara, who couldn’t seem to speak without laughing at the same time. It was terribly annoying.

  “I’ve scarce seen you at Windsor Castle during my visit, Lord Worthington,” she said through a giggle.

  “I’ve been much occupied hosting the Prince of Hoburg,” George said. “Allow me to introduce you.”

  He gestured to Herr Bauer sitting on his other side past Drina’s empty seat. Herr Bauer bowed his head to Lady Clara. Her green eyes nearly fell out of her head. She leaned across George’s arm and ogled Herr Bauer.

  She tittered. “Another German Prince!”

  George moved his arm. Lady Clara thankfully took the hint to stop leaning on him, but she tapped her ivory fan on his arm flirtatiously.

  Herr Bauer said something in German. Luckily, Lady Clara didn’t speak a word of the language.

  “Is he single, do you know?” she asked with a laugh. “Not that I’m interested in a prince. Oh, no. Too far above my station.”

  George knew he ought to dampen her enthusiasm, but she was hard to shake off. And he had plenty of practice plying off young ladies from his arm. Even though he wasn’t the heir to his father’s dukedom, he was still considered a great catch on the marriage market because of his mother’s fortune and close relationship with the Queen. Which meant he was constantly avoiding young debutantes and even worse, their matchmaking mothers.

  “Why, yes, Lady Clara,” he said with a false smile. “The Crown Prince of Hoburg isn’t married.”

  She tapped him thrice more with her accursed ivory fan, and smiled broadly at Herr Bauer. He smiled back at her and her eyes widened; happily, her attention was completely drawn to the valet. George offered to switch places with “Prince Friedrich.” It afforded him a great deal of pleasure to see her move in on a foreign servant, believing him to be a prince.

  But where was Drina?

  Chapter 14

  Drina kept fidgeting with her hands as Miss Russon buttoned up the back of her emerald green dress. She was irritated. Where could Friedrich be? Didn’t he know how important his visit was for diplomatic relations between the two countries?

  She sat down in front of the mirror and her lady’s maid began to hum “Here We Come A-Wassailing” while she arranged Drina’s hair.

  “You seem jolly tonight,” Drina said, sharper than she meant to.

  Miss Russon blushed as she stuck a pin in Drina’s hair. “One of the foreign servants arrived today and he has the whole servants’ quarters in an uproar.”

  “Why is that?”

  “He’s fearfully handsome and such a flirt,” Miss Russon said with a smile. “He told me that my hair was the color of a perfect sunset.”

  “He must speak English very well.”

  “He does, my lady,” she said. “I didn’t even notice his accent until he said he’d like a drink of wassail. But I didn’t understand him at first, because he pronounced it more like vessel. That’s what put the song in my head, my lady.”

  Her cousin Friedrich also had difficulty with that English word. Even after his father had hired him an English tutor when they were eight years old. Friedrich had never been able to say that word quite right.

  It couldn’t be …

  Drina turned and grabbed her maid’s hand. “Is his hair flaxen yellow and are his eyes an unnaturally light blue?”

  She looked at Drina’s face intently. “Now that you mention it, he does have blue eyes and fair hair, my lady.”

  “Is he taller than average?”

  Miss Russon bit her lower lip. “Aye, my lady.”

  “Does he have the sort of presence that can hold a whole room’s attention?”

  The maid’s face went red as fire. “At least the female servants.”

  Drina released Miss Russon’s hand and stood up. “I need you to take me to the servant’s quarters at once.”

  “Why, my lady?”

  “Because the new servant is the Crown Prince of Hoburg.”

  “Golly!” Miss Russon said, covering her mouth with her hand. “A prince gave me a compliment?”

  “I’m sure you deserved it,” Drina said and pointed to the door. “But could you take me to the servants’ quarters at once, please?”

  Miss Russon bobbed a curtsy and led Drina down the corridor to a hall that she’d never walked down before. They passed through the kitchens, where dozens of servants were busily cutting, baking, and plating. The room smelled of cinnamon, nutmeg, and roasted boar. She followed her lady’s maid up a staircase to a large room where there were mismatched chairs and tables. Sitting on a chair, surrounded by a bevy of maids, was a handsome young man. His hair was the same blond as her own and his keen eyes, a bright blue. He held himself well; or rather, he sat as if he owned the castle.

  He caught her staring at him and winked. And that confirmed it.

  “Friedrich!”

  “Alix!” he said, standing and walking toward her. Cousin Friedrich was even more handsome up close. He had thick sideburns and a strong jaw. He was so tall, she had to glance up to see his eyes, which were looking at her in speculation and amusement. Friedrich took both of her little hands into his much larger ones and kissed them.

  “To think little Alix is all grown up.”

  “Your Royal Highness—I mean, Cousin Friedrich,” Drina mumbled. “I don’t know what I mean.”

  “There is no need for formality between us,” he said, still holding her hands. “I am Friedrich and you are Alix.”

  “My friends call me Drina now,” she admitted, strangely out of breath. “Alexandrina is such a mouthful and Alix is rather too German to be in fashion.”

  “Drina,” he said with a slight, very charming accent. “It suits you, Cousin. But to me, you will always be my little Alix who would follow me around the castle as we played knights.”

  “You were the knight,” she said. “I was always your squire. You promised me that I would rise in the ranks, but only after I carried around all your things and cleaned up after you.”

  Friedrich gave a low laugh. “You aren’t supposed to remember that part.”

  “My childhood in Hoburg seems so very long ago.”

  “Long ago, but not forgotten, I hope,” Friedrich said. “I never forgot you, Alix.”

  Drina pulled her hands away. They were no longer children.

  “Where have you been, Friedrich?” she asked. “You were supposed to arrive at Windsor two days ago.”

  “I did,” he said.

  Drina blinked. “No, that can’t be true. We searched for you everywhere.”

  “Who is ‘we,’ Alix?”

  “George—Lord Worthington,” Drina explained. “He was tasked by his father, head of the Foreign Office to, to—”

  “Keep an eye on me?”

  “Yes,” Drina said.

  “Tell me about this George,” Friedrich said with a knowing grin. “Is he one of your beaux?”

  She shook her head. “No, he is a family friend.”

  “But you wish he were your suitor?”

  Drina turned purple. How does he know that without even meeting George?

  “We aren’t here to talk about me,” Drina huffed, poking Friedrich’s shoulder. “We’re here to talk about you. Your man Herr Bauer said that you’d gone into town for a drink.”

  Friedrich shrugged his shoulders. “I met Bertie on the train from London and he begged me to go get a few drinks with him.”

  “Bertie?”

  “Is there another Albert running around?” he asked with a slight smile.

  “Only his father,” she said. “But he’s not the sort to get drunk with guests arriving.”

  “Bertie is his own man,” Friedrich said with another shrug. “And he will be king of all this one day.”

  Drina smiled at this, but she wasn’t about to fly from the scent during a hunt. “Why didn’t you come to Windsor Castle after the drinks? W
hy did you stay two nights at Frogmore Lodge?”

  He smiled at her again. “You are still too sharp! Bertie wanted to give his grandmother her Christmas present.”

  “It took two days to give a Christmas present?”

  “He has a great affection for his grandmother.”

  “But your trunks were sent to Windsor Castle.”

  “Bertie kindly offered me what I needed,” he said. “It isn’t difficult for him to be generous when he is heir to the crown of England, ja?”

  Drina pursed her lips to the side and eyed him suspiciously. “Then why aren’t you in your state room? Why are you in the servants’ quarters?”

  Friedrich gave her a sheepish smile. “There seems to have been some sort of mix-up with my room. It appears that the good servants of Windsor Castle don’t speak any German and they put my valet, Herr Bauer, in my apartment. Do you remember his sister?”

  “Gretta, she was my nanny.”

  “Ja.”

  “Why haven’t you resolved the mix-up?”

  “I was going to, eventually,” the prince insisted. “Herr Bauer’s room is little more than a closet and I have no intention of sleeping there.”

  Drina folded her arms across her chest and gave him a stern look. “I’m not ten years old anymore, Friedrich. I want the truth and I want it now.”

  His easy smile slipped. “Bertie told me on the train from London that I was invited to England to be a suitor to his sister, Princess Alice.”

  She nodded. “I know.”

  “But I didn’t,” Friedrich said, shaking his head. “My parents told me that this was a diplomatic visit to England and that I would have the opportunity to visit you and Aunt and Uncle. You don’t know how much I have missed all of you. Especially you, Alix—I mean, Drina. You were my first friend, my best ally.”

  “I’ve missed you, too, Friedrich,” she said. “So very much.”

  “But we aren’t children anymore, are we?” he said. “Yet, I don’t feel like an adult either. I’m not ready to be married. I’m much too young. There is still so much of the world I want to see. So many things I want to do before I settle down and produce heirs for Hoburg, ja?”