Pretend Princess (Cordillera Royals Book 1)

by Carolyn Rae

  * * *

  Back at the opera house, Lawrence returned to his seat. Where was Tricia? He’d looked everywhere but the ladies room for his cousin. He glanced at the empty chair beside him. The lights dimmed, and the orchestra began playing. Surely, she would return any moment now.

  Five minutes later he looked at his watch. Still no Tricia. Had she met someone and gotten caught up in a conversation? Another five minutes went by without any sign of her. He wasn’t sure whether to be annoyed or worried. He headed for the concession stand where they sold wine in glasses and assorted cheeses and crackers.

  “Have you seen the princess in the last fifteen minutes?” he asked.

  The model-thin brunette wearing a white blouse and long dark skirt standing behind the table shook her head. “I saw her when you two came in. She looks lovely tonight.”

  He had to agree with that, but now he was more concerned with finding her. “I need someone to check the ladies room for my cousin.”

  The woman cracked open a door behind her. “Marie, can you look in the ladies’ room for the princess. Prince Lawrence seems to think she’s been missing too long.”

  Marie stuck her head out. Dressed identically to the other woman, but a bit pudgy, she hurried down the lobby’s marble floor, her heels tapping as she walked.

  A minute later she came back. “There’s no one in there. Why don’t you return to your seat? She may be there by now.”

  He had a sinking feeling the woman was wrong, but strode back to his seat. When he got there, he realized his gut feeling had been right. Tricia was not there.

  He hurried back to the refreshment counter. “She is not there. I want to speak to the manager.”

  The door behind the counter opened, and a woman stepped out. “My name’s Marie. I’m the assistant manager. What can I do for you?”

  “The princess is missing, and I’m afraid someone has kidnapped her.” His heart beat erratically, and his pulse stepped up its pace. Would whoever spirited Tricia away hurt her? He didn’t want to see her lovely skin marred by bruises. What if that blackguard raped her? She’d fight, but what could one woman do against superior strength?

  “Please call the police. I will call the royal guard.” He grabbed his cell phone and clicked on the number for the guardhouse at the gates.

  Pierre answered. “Yes, Your Highness?”

  He spoke into his phone. “The princess is missing. She disappeared from her seat at the opera house.”

  Pierre’s quick gasp came over the cell phone. “We know Princess Allysa’s missing. Do you mean her double is gone too?”

  “That’s exactly what I mean. I need ten soldiers here as fast as you can manage.”

  “It will be done, Your Highness. I will lead the force. We will search the whole city. Have you called the police?”

  “Someone’s doing it for me.”

  Lawrence paced the marble hall. His guard stood nearby. Was Roberto allied with a Spanish or French plot to show the monarchy unable to manage the country? Lawrence couldn’t imagine Cordillerans who’d want to hurt Allysa. Both she and Tricia had been well received by the townspeople. He hadn’t heard any rumblings of Spain or France wanting to take it over. The treaty guaranteed Cordillera’s independence as long as each king and queen produced an heir. Since he was the king’s nephew, he was considered an eligible heir.

  If someone were planning a coup, wouldn’t they surround the palace grounds instead? Or was this simply a ransom matter? If so, he was sure the treasury could release such funds as he might need. Then he would have the bastard arrested and thrown in jail—the public one—so anyone could walk in and see what happened to those who defied authority.

  And if they so much as bruised either his cousin or Tricia, he’d want to make them stand in stocks. He seemed to remember hearing his great-grandfather, under pressure, had finally outlawed that practice, saying it was medieval and degrading, but if he couldn’t find any at the city jail or the museum, he might commission a carpenter to make one. It was time to set an example so no one ever bothered the royal family again.

  * * *

  Back at the house where Tricia and the princess were locked in a room, Tricia studied Allysa, who sat on the bed. “Are you all right? Did he hurt you?”

  The princess shook her head. “At first, I couldn’t believe anyone in the kingdom would dare to harm me.”

  “You must be well liked by the people of Cordillera.”

  Allysa smiled. “When I give talks, the crowds always cheer. I promise them better living conditions. However, I leave it up to the country chamber of commerce to improve things.”

  “What about women’s rights to hold jobs? Do you ever say anything about that?”

  “Someone always asks. I tell them I will speak to the king about it.”

  Tricia leaned against the wall. “And what does he say?”

  Allysa shrugged. “The usual—I can recite his answers by heart. He says families will be better off if the mothers stay home with the children. He always adds that we don’t have good daycare places where mothers can safely leave the children.”

  “Did Roberto or his men hurt you?”

  “They didn’t beat me or touch me, except to drag me into a car and bring me here.”

  Tricia walked over and sat beside her. “I don’t think anyone is listening at the door,” she whispered. “We need to plan on escaping.”

  “But surely my father will send soldiers to find me.”

  “Capital Ciudad isn’t large, but it sprawls all over the place. It could take them days to search every house. And by then our captors might move us somewhere else—maybe even out of the country.”

  Allysa’s mouth dropped open. “I hadn’t thought of that. I expected these men to demand ransom right away. Then my father would send someone to negotiate my release.” She looked at Tricia. “And yours too.”

  “There’s a sheet on the bed. We can use it to let ourselves down to the street.”

  “But what if I fall? I don’t want to take a chance on hurting myself and the baby I carry.”

  “How far along are you?”

  “Two months. We didn’t mean to get pregnant, but Raphael seems happy about it. However, I fear he might not be welcomed as a son-in-law.”

  “But he’s a professor. Surely, that’s a respectable profession.”

  “My mother always talked about me marrying royalty, or at least a count. She would go on and on about what a ceremony that would be. I just don’t know how she’s going to take this.”

  “You could still have a royal wedding with pomp and circumstance.”

  “And when the baby is born seven months later, everyone’s tongues will wag. They’d say I wasn’t fit to be a princess.”

  “Didn’t you say the people loved you?”

  Allysa’s face looked grim. “But they’ll call me a slut and a tramp. When I step out in public, I will hear women whispering behind my back. And the men will give me funny looks and laugh.”

  “But don’t you love Raphael?”

  “I do. He can be so romantic. He does little things for me. He touches me like I’m a precious statue, and then, when we make love, well, he is all over me, touching and caressing and kissing me where no one has ever kissed me before.”

  “What about your other suitors?”

  Allysa shook her head. “Neither of them could begin to thrill me like Raphael.”

  “So, why not marry him, hold your head high, and ignore what people say?”

  “My parents may not accept him. I would hate for them to treat him badly.”

  “But you would be living in his house. You’d only have to take him to dinner at the palace maybe once a week. That’s the way they do it in the states.”

  “There’s something else. If I marry him and my father doesn’t agree, he may not allow me to take Serena with me. Raphael cannot afford a servant. I’d have to cook and clean.”

  Tricia nodded. “Just like most of the women in Cordi
llera. Would that be so bad if you were with the man you love?”

  The princess stood and paced about the small room. “I’ve never done that. I just don’t know.”

  Tricia tugged at the bed sheet. “Well, I am not going to stay here. I’m no princess, and I can’t be sure Roberto will treat me as gently as he will you. If I can escape, I can tell Lawrence where to send his soldiers to rescue you.”

  Tricia looked out the window. “There’s no one in the street watching. Are you sure you won’t come with me? I can go first and hold out my arms to catch you if you start to fall.”

  Allysa shook her head. “I can’t take a chance on falling and causing a miscarriage. I’ll wait until soldiers come to rescue me or my father makes some kind of deal.”

  Tricia dug deep in the pocket of her green dress and pulled out her cell phone. “Here, try again to call the palace and tell them where you are so they can come rescue you, but speak quietly so the man downstairs won’t hear you.”

  As the princess dialed, Tricia twisted two sheets together, hoping that would hold her weight. Telling Allysa to follow her if she changed her mind, Tricia climbed out the window and knotted the ends around one bar of the railing.

  The princess shook her head. “It’s not working. Please be careful. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

  Tricia looked both ways to be sure the coast was clear. She tried again and secured the twisted sheet with a knot. After stepping over the railing and balancing one foot on the narrow edge of the balcony, she looked down at the sidewalk and the cobblestone street below. She couldn’t fall and break a bone because she’d have to hurry away. She hoped she could remember the way back to the palace. Taking a deep breath, she started down and hoped the soldiers would come soon to rescue the princess. If Allysa’s call didn’t go through, it was imperative Tricia escape now.

  A breeze chilled her. She ignored it. Then she saw she’d hung the sheet right in front of a window. She could only hope no one looked out. Rappelling herself down, she was three feet from the ground when the sheet began to tear. What if the man inside heard the noise and came to investigate? She held her breath and glanced inside. The curtains were open now. Roberto was laughing as he raised a bottle of beer.

  Letting go of the sheet, she dropped to the ground—and saw Roberto glare at her through the window.

  She took off running down the street. Behind her, she heard a door slam. She looked for an opening between the buildings to dart into.

  “Stop!” Roberto shouted. His footsteps pounded the cobblestones. A narrow opening appeared ahead. She ducked into it. Behind the building a postage-stamp yard held a tiny formal garden, but no bushes to hide behind. She could knock on a door and ask for help, but who would believe her?

  Then she saw steps leading to an upstairs apartment. She climbed them and ducked behind a rug hung over the railing. Hurried footsteps announced Roberto’s approach.

  Crouching low behind the rug, she breathed in dust. Covering her mouth, she hoped she wouldn’t sneeze. From below came the sound of a door opening. Peeking out, she saw a little dog running and barking. She held her breath. Would the animal follow her scent and expose her?

  “Scotty, come back,” said a female voice. The dog ran to the foot of the steps, sniffed and started up. Tricia looked for a door or an open window. Curtains flapped in the breeze. She scrambled over the window sill, hid behind the draperies, and closed the window.

  Roberto stood in the yard now. The dog ran over to him and barked. Roberto kicked the dog, which scooted away.

  The woman shouted, “Leave my dog alone, and get off my property or I’ll call the police.”

  Roberto backed away. “Sorry, ma’am, I’m looking for my runaway sister. Have you seen her?”

  Tricia frowned and backed behind the curtain.

  The woman shook her head. “If you do not leave immediately, I will have my dog attack you.”

  Roberto laughed. “That little thing? I’m not afraid. Have you seen a young woman run by your house?”

  “No. Leave my yard.”

  Roberto looked around. “All right, I’m going, but if you see my sister, call the police. She’s mentally ill and dangerous.”

  Tricia frowned. He had a nerve. She watched him walk away. Afraid to climb out the window in case he might duck back, she thought about what to say if whoever lived in the upstairs apartment discovered her. Would the resident even believe the truth—well not the whole truth—for she’d claim she was Princess Allysa and hope the person had never taken a good look at the real princess.

  The bedroom door opened. Tricia straightened and hoped she looked regal. Fat chance. Her stockings were torn, and her dress was ripped. She took a deep breath and faced an older woman.

  Brushing back strands of gray-streaked hair, the older woman tightened the belt of her robe and stared. “Who are you? What are you doing in my apartment?”

  Chapter Twenty-six

  The woman’s black eyes glared at Tricia.

  Tricia swallowed and looked right back at her. “A man was chasing me. I just escaped from him.”

  That was the wrong thing to say. She should have begun with telling the woman she was Princess Allysa. She straightened her spine and tried to look regal. “He had the effrontery to kidnap me from the opera I was attending with my cousin, Prince Lawrence.”

  She watched the woman’s expression, hoping she’d buy her explanation.

  “Well,” the older woman said, frowning. “You sure look a mess, not at all like the poised princess I saw in the parade a few weeks ago.” The woman tightened the belt of her robe around her pudgy figure.

  Princess Allysa must have been in a parade then. “I had to climb over a railing, slide down a rope made of sheets to the ground, and run like hell to get away, I’m not surprised I don’t look very well groomed.” Suddenly realizing she didn’t know the palace phone number, she wondered if the police could be trusted. As the princess, it wouldn’t do to voice any doubts. “I’d call the palace soldiers to rescue me, but I don’t remember the number. Would you call the police for me, please?”

  The woman looked her up and down, then took several steps closer. “I must admit you look slimmer than when I saw you on TV last month. You were asking for donations to the Children’s Fund for the orphanage.”

  Tricia took a step back and felt the bed against her legs. “TV has a tendency to make people look heavier.” Allysa wouldn’t be able to hide her pregnancy much longer.

  The woman seemed embarrassed. “I didn’t mean to imply you’re are getting too thin. I know some women starve themselves to maintain some ridiculous model-like figure. You look just fine the way you are.”

  “Thank you.” Noises from outside reminded her she was still in danger of being discovered. “That man you spoke to in the yard is after me. Would you please call the police?”

  The woman shook her head. “I don’t have a phone. The only jobs open to me don’t pay enough to afford one. Perhaps if you wait until dawn, the streets will be free of people, and you can walk to the palace.”

  “How far is it from here?”

  “About two miles.”

  “I’m always being driven anywhere I want to go, so I don’t know my way around. Can you draw me a map?”

  “I will be glad to, Your Highness. Would you do me a favor after you get back to the palace?”

  Tricia nodded, hoping she wouldn’t ask for money. “What would you like?”

  The woman twisted a fold of her robe. “I’d like to put on my best dress and come to afternoon tea.”

  Tricia smiled. “You’d be most welcome. Our cook makes the most delicious pastries. I’ll see that you get a special invitation. What’s your name?”

  “Rosa. Rosa Gonzalez.”

  “I appreciate your letting me stay here until morning.”

  The woman stepped around Tricia. “You look tired. Let me turn down the bed for you.”

  Tricia shook her head. “I’ll just lie down for a w
hile on your couch if you don’t mind.”

  The woman plumped the pillow. “It would be an honor to have our princess sleep in my bed.”

  Tricia touched her arm. “I will not put you out of your bed. Please just draw me that map. I’ll rest a bit and go as soon as I’m sure that man has left.”

  Lying on the couch in the living room, Tricia slept in fits and starts, afraid she wouldn’t wake in time to leave before daylight. Finally, about five o’clock in the morning, she brushed at the wrinkles in Allysa’s fancy dress. She slid her feet into the princess’s pointy-toed shoes and hoped she could make the two miles without her feet killing her. On cobblestone streets, going barefoot wasn’t an option.

  Clutching Mrs. Gonzalez’s hand-drawn map, she let herself out the front door. Every few steps she stopped and listened. Luckily, no one seemed to be about.

  A mongrel dog barked at her. Hoping not to draw anyone’s attention, she ran from it. The dog, however, seemed to take this as a game and kept following her.

  She picked up a stick and threw it. “Fetch,” she said. The dog just stood there. After she walked along for ten minutes, the dog finally lost interest and trotted back the way it had come.

  Almost an hour later, her feet hurt unbearably, and it was just getting light when she finally saw the guardhouse at the gate. As she approached, a soldier snapped to attention. “Who goes there?”

  Knowing how bedraggled she must look, she found assuming a regal pose difficult. Adopting a haughty tone, she said, “I’m Princess Allysa. I demand you let me in.”

  The guard frowned and barred her way with his body. “You don’t look like Her Highness. Your dress is ripped, your stockings are in shreds, and your shoes are dusty. Princess Allysa never steps outside without looking perfect.”

  “I was kidnapped from the opera house and had to escape. I’ve walked two miles. If you don’t believe me, call Prince Lawrence. He will verify who I am.”