Pretend Princess (Cordillera Royals Book 1)

by Carolyn Rae

  The queen placed her hand over Tricia’s and nodded toward a man standing near the left wing of the table “If you glance briefly—now don’t be obvious, my dear—look to your left. See the serious-looking man with glasses and longish hair. Allysa’s other suitor is always quoting poetry to her. His voice is lovely when he reads, but he appears rather ascetic, don’t you think?”

  “What’s his name?”

  “Richard Templeton. He’s a commoner. Not exactly consort material although he is well educated. He took Allysa to hear his favorite professor speak at the local university.”

  If one of the princess’s prospective suitors sat close by at the table, things could be difficult.

  “How will I be able to fool them?” Tricia whispered.

  “I hope they will attribute the difference in your accent to a recent trip. You could mention having visited Texas recently. Although being men, they may notice you are, shall we say, a bit more buxom than before. Perhaps you might allude to our French chef’s rich cooking.”

  “I need to learn what they’re interested in and what Princess Allysa knows about them.”

  The queen leaned closer. “My lady-in-waiting. Margarita, the lady standing near the end of the table, is Edward Appleby’s sister. She delights in sharing tales of goings on at Edward’s mansion.” The queen leaned closer and patted Tricia’s hand. “Do be careful not to say much. She doesn’t speak to my daughter often, but you might find it wise to pretend to have laryngitis.”

  Margarita had creamy skin, long curly dark hair and ruby lips. Tricia caught her winking at the prince. He turned and smiled at Tricia.

  That shouldn’t bother her. She was only here to play a part and wouldn’t stay long. She turned to face the queen.” Mr. Appleby–or is it Sir Appleby?”

  “It is Sir Appleby.”

  Tricia continued in a low voice. “Since he’s here at the dinner, as well as her other suitor, your daughter probably hasn’t gone anywhere with either man.”

  The queen whispered, “I should hope not. Last week I instructed one of my ladies-in-waiting to follow my daughter to the stable to see how she and Edward behaved on their riding trip. I was pleased to learn that Allysa’s behavior was quite correct. I also instructed Serena to be alert for any signs they misbehaved somewhere in the woods.”

  Tricia lowered her voice. If Allysa knew, she’d resent that. “I’d have thought Serena would consider that disloyal.”

  The queen glared at her. “Serena’s loyalty to the king and myself should be paramount. I have seen my daughter and Edward stroll into the garden holding hands, but neither I nor any of my ladies-in-waiting ever observed them kissing.”

  If what Prince Lawrence suspected were true, the queen was in for a rude awakening.

  The king, tall and solid, had a touch of silver at his temples, and his hair curled above his collar. He led the way into the great room and took his place at the head of the table.

  Conversation stopped. He beckoned to a tall man with a dark mustache. Dressed in a superbly tailored black suit, the man bowed, then approached the head table. The king spoke in a booming voice. “I’d like to present our distinguished guest, Ambassador Nicholai Shostakovich.” He gestured to the man standing across from where Tricia stood beside the queen. Everyone clapped. Tricia twisted her fingers together. Now she must perform.

  The king tapped the goblet again. “All rise. The bishop will say a blessing before we dine.”

  They had a bishop here? With her parents assigned here as missionaries, she’d assumed there weren’t many religious figures of stature in the country.

  Tricia clasped her hands and bowed her head. The bishop, tall and stately in black robes with a white stole embroidered with a gold cross, prayed for several minutes, then said, “Amen.”

  She opened her eyes. The king was already seated and munching on a roll. Following the queen’s motions, Tricia sat, hoping she did so gracefully. Noticing her chiffon overskirt extended over the prince’s lap, she reached to pull it away.

  Lawrence lifted her hand. Surely, he wasn’t going to kiss it here in front of all these people. However, he merely placed it on top of her soup spoon. “Use this first,” he whispered.

  “Thanks,” Tricia murmured.

  A servant walked along the linen-covered table, refilling water glasses.

  Ambassador Shostakovich leaned forward. “Princess Allysa, you look even lovelier than the last time I saw you. What have you been doing?”

  Tricia smiled, then swallowed. Better stick with what she knew and then ask about his country. She lowered her voice almost to a whisper. “I have laryngitis. It’s difficult to speak. I just returned from a trip across the pond. I saw Anna Bolena at the Metropolitan Opera. She coughed again. “Do you have any popular singers in your country?”

  Although his skin was only slightly tan, the dark hairs on his forearm and his trimmed, black sideburns made her wonder if most of the people from his country were dark-haired. “Our Anton Belofsky is as good a tenor as Pavarotti ever was. You must come for a visit. My king will ask him to sing for you.”

  “That sounds lovely. I will have my social secretary check my appointment diary. Now tell me about your country.”

  As he went on and on about his country, a servant approached the ambassador. “Mr. Ambassador, Sir Appleby would like to speak with you about a possible sale. He owns some excellent horses.”

  The ambassador rose and bowed to Tricia. “Please forgive me. You must excuse me for a moment. My king is always interested in fine horses.”

  “That’s quite all right,” Tricia answered as the ambassador stepped away from the table and spoke for a few minutes with Sir Appleby about a time and place to meet.

  Paying attention to the soup before her, Tricia stared at the gray liquid with black lumps. Perhaps they were capers. She looked closer and then took a taste. It was cold, and dotted with blueberries. She turned to the queen and whispered, “This soup is delicious. My compliments to the chef.”

  The queen sighed. “We have been through so many. I hope this one stays.”

  Tricia wondered if the other chefs were fired or couldn’t stand to cook for a fussy queen.

  As servants brought additional courses, Tricia watched carefully to be sure she used the correct utensils. She reached for a golden chicken drumstick, only to pull her hand back at the last moment and pick up a knife and fork.

  Lawrence looked at her and grinned. “Almost caught you. Allysa would never do that—unless we were in the kitchen at midnight.”

  Apparently, the prince and princess weren’t so proper when they were alone. As Tricia savored the lemony sauce on the broccoli, she wished she dared ask the chef how to make it. However, she knew better than to venture into the kitchen.

  Watching Allysa’s two suitors, Tricia couldn’t imagine sharing much time with either of them. Now Prince Lawrence was another story altogether. He could probably seduce the pants off any woman here. Acting as his cousin should ensure his behavior toward her would be circumspect . . . at least in public. She might need to rein him in when they were alone.

  Looking up, she met his intense gaze. Something in the depths of his chocolate-colored eyes intrigued her. His smile warmed her all the way to her toes. What would it be like to kiss him? She’d never kissed a bearded man before. Would his beard feel soft? He might be difficult to resist if he put his mind to seducing her. She’d better avoid being alone with him.

  No man had tempted her away from her determination to achieve her doctorate in sociology. He wouldn’t either. She’d head back to school and finish her degree as soon as her role here was over.

  So why was she even considering letting Prince Lawrence tempt her to stay here for possibly six months?

  After the dinner, her feet were killing her. She couldn’t wait to shed Allysa’s shoes and slip into her own. She asked Serena to lead her to the room where her sisters stayed to be sure they were okay and to say good night.

  Becky a
nd Cindy wanted to know all about the dinner, who she talked to, and what the ambassador was like. After Tricia filled them in, Becky showed her the game she’d been playing. “I’m getting really good at it,” she said.

  Cindy yawned. Tricia gave each sister a hug. “You’d better get some rest. I’ll see you sometime tomorrow. Good night and pleasant dreams.”

  As Tricia headed back to Allysa’s suite, she wondered what it must have been like for Prince Lawrence to grow up and stay often in the palace. He and Allysa must have had some fun times. Did he pull her hair and tease her?

  Tricia had liked the way his hand rested on her waist, his fingers warm and almost caressing. He didn’t dare do much more in public, but if they walked alone together in the garden, would he caress her shoulders? If he thought they were truly alone, would he kiss her? Just thinking about it made her smile.

  The next morning, Tricia awoke when Serena opened the draperies, letting in brilliant sunlight. “You need not worry about the speech you are to give this afternoon. A short speech has already been written by the king’s diplomatic aide. Princess Allysa usually checks the Internet for interesting facts to add a few sentences to her remarks, but I doubt they’ll want you to add anything, Your Highness.”

  Tricia’s stomach was already twisted in knots. “That’s good. I couldn’t concentrate on research for thinking about how scared I’ll be. I’m terrible at giving speeches. Presenting a planned lesson to my students is one thing. However, with a large group of people staring at me I freeze up. I can’t do it. Isn’t there some way I can get out of it?”

  “The day the ambassador’s visit was announced,” Serena said, “I heard the king tell Princess Allysa, ‘You are a good speaker. I expect you to give a welcoming speech to introduce the ambassador.”

  Serena gave Tricia a stern look. “If you are brave enough to take fencing lessons from Prince Lawrence, surely you can manage to say a few words of welcome.”

  Tricia’s mouth dropped open. “Fencing lessons? I didn’t agree to that.”

  Serena laughed. “The whole court heard the princess challenge Prince Lawrence to teach her to fence. Everyone wanted to watch, but—”

  “I don’t want anyone to watch me make a fool of myself. No way.”

  “Luckily for you,” Serena said, “Prince Lawrence vetoed an audience for the fencing lessons. You and he will be alone in the room.”

  Tricia didn’t look forward to making a fool of herself in front of Prince Lawrence either.

  Serena shoved Tricia’s suitcase under the bed. Her clothes had been hung up in the large old-fashioned armoire, but were pushed to one side, as if they might contaminate Allysa’s. Perhaps Serena wouldn’t be as much of an ally as Tricia had hoped.

  A knock sounded at the door. Serena opened it and took a laptop from a servant. “Here’s your speech. It’s short, so don’t worry about it. May I suggest, Your Highness, that you memorize it.”

  Tricia groaned, but pulled a chair up in front of the computer. She could barely concentrate on reading the speech while trying not to think how nervous she’d be.

  All she could manage for lunch was a bowl of soup and a roll brought to her room. Afterwards she wished she’d just had coffee because the food now felt like a lump in her stomach. She had to get out of giving that speech.

  Planning to use her American accent as a ploy, she asked Serena to find the prince and ask him to listen to her recite it. Surely, he’d agree her speaking that long would give her away.

  Ten minutes later, he knocked on her sitting room door. “What’s this nonsense about you not giving the speech?” he grumbled.

  “Just listen, Your Highness.” Using her best Texas accent, she read the speech. When she finished, she looked up at him. “Don’t you think your subjects would notice my accent is different from the Princess’s?”

  He nodded. “I am afraid you are right. You can just say, ‘Please welcome Ambassador Nickolai Shostakovich.’ I’ll persuade the queen to give the speech.”

  Tricia drew a sigh of relief as he hurried away.

  An hour later, Serena helped her put on Allysa’s tan silk dress with a long narrow skirt, then pointed to a pair of tan heels. Tricia squeezed her feet into them and hoped she could stand and walk in them for as long as it took. How many days would she be expected to wear Allysa’s shoes? If she stayed longer, she hoped it wouldn’t be too much to ask for a few pairs of shoes in her size.

  A limousine picked her up in front of the palace and drove a short way to the park on the edge of the capital city. A white gingerbread-trimmed gazebo stood, rimmed with rosebushes bearing yellow roses. At least there were railings she could hold onto. She started toward it. Mr. Goya, the prince’s aide dressed in a gray suit and tie, touched her arm. “This way, Your Highness.” He pointed to a block of chairs set up facing a podium.

  The sun reflected off the varnished wooden seats. It would be right in her eyes. She groaned. That’s all she needed.

  The aide led her to a section in the front of the stands where the seats were covered in plush red velvet. Even though all she had to do was say, “Welcome, citizens of Cordillera and Ambassador Shostakovich,” she couldn’t stop imagining herself tongue-tied in front of the crowd. It would be horrifying to be exposed as stupid or an imposter in front of everyone. She sat while a band played, glad there was padding beneath the material covering the boards.

  Minutes ticked by like seconds. The queen didn’t seem to notice Tricia’s unease and kept speaking to the ambassador seated beside her. “I’m sorry there wasn’t much chance for you to get acquainted with my daughter at the banquet last night. Perhaps you can speak with her for a few minutes at the luncheon tomorrow.”

  Tricia hoped the ambassador wouldn’t access pictures of Allysa on the Internet until he reached his home kingdom. Maybe he wouldn’t notice any differences between her and the princess.

  Too soon, the aide beckoned from the sidelines. The king announced Tricia and mentioned she was feeling poorly. Clutching a handkerchief, she made her way past the queen, and the ambassador to the end of the row. When she stepped down from the chair, she heard the ominous rip of her long, slim skirt. She glanced down. This had to be a designer dress, but thank goodness, the rip was a small one. Holding her head high, Tricia took mincing steps so as not to rip the skirt again and headed to the podium. Her legs felt like wooden stumps, but at least they weren’t shaking like Jell-O.

  Two well-dressed ladies in the front row tittered. “I hope she rips through the speech, too,” said one. “I’m tired of sitting here.”

  Amid the applause, Tricia held out her arms. She coughed and lowered her voice. “Welcome citizens and Ambassador Shostakovich.”

  The master of ceremonies stepped forward. “Queen Carlotta will speak next.” Tricia made her way back to her seat as the queen set her printed pages on the slanted podium.

  Tricia concentrated on the audience, trying to see how they reacted to the speech. Setting down the last two pages, the queen must have decided the crowd would prefer a shorter speech to hearing her stumbling efforts. She said, “And we hope our illustrious visitor will enjoy his stay in our country and return to his king with information about our thriving economy.”

  As the queen walked back to her seat beside Tricia, mild applause sounded. She hoped the tall, visiting dignitary with his dark mustache curled up at the ends approved of the speech.

  Sitting beside her, Prince Lawrence smiled and whispered, “The queen hates giving speeches also, but she did impart some interesting information about our country. Do not worry. The people will forgive their princess for not feeling well.”

  He patted her hand, then whispered, “Giving talks is easy for Allysa. I knew you were nervous, and with your accent, it was best you didn’t speak. There’s an additional speech my cousin usually gives. It’s scheduled for tomorrow.”

  Tricia swallowed. “Surely, you don’t mean I have to give another speech?”

  “It’s the summit meet
ing arranged with the ambassador. All you have to do is give a short welcome at dinner. Allysa’s always done it, but I suppose Queen Carlotta can do it this time. You’re a brave woman. I’m sure you will tackle the fencing lesson this afternoon with just as much courage.”

  “I’m not sure I’m up to a fencing lesson right now.”

  He grinned. “After a nap, you should be ready. I promise not to laugh at you when you make mistakes.”

  The queen, sitting on the other side of her, leaned closer. “You may be excused now if you wish. A guard will escort you to the palace.” Her condescending look hinted that the queen wanted her out of sight.

  Tricia wasn’t going to leave looking like a scared rabbit. She sat there, her back ramrod straight, enduring the queen’s scrutiny and wishing she dared shed her toe-pinching shoes. Instead she nodded. “I’m fine. I’ll stay for the rest of the program.”

  After the visiting dignitary finished his remarks, the king and queen rose. Prince Lawrence whispered in her ear. “Stand up. Everyone waits for the royal family to leave first.”

  Tricia followed the king and queen, accompanied by aides, to the limousine. The car made its way slowly past waving crowds toward the palace. Suddenly, Lawrence said, “Stop, Henri.”

  The limousine paused. Lawrence opened the door.

  The queen stared at him. “Why have you ordered him to stop?”

  Lawrence pointed toward a park. “There are some boys shouting at a boy on crutches. He looks like he’s about to cry.”

  The queen frowned. “Well, then, if you are so concerned, order your aide to tell them to leave him alone.”

  “I think they will pay more attention to me than my aide.”

  He stepped over to the group of four boys. “Do you know who I am?”

  The biggest boy, who had been getting in the face of the boy on crutches, stepped back. “Yes, sir, Your Highness, sir.”

  “Would you like to be commanded to appear in the king’s court and explain why you’re picking on this boy?”

  A shorter, skinny boy looked up at Lawrence. “Can you really do that – uh – Your Highness?”