Royal Affair

by Alice Gaines

  “I’d better let you go,” he said, although his arms made no move to release her. Neither did she try to move away. How could she leave the warmth of his embrace?

  “I should do some work,” he said.

  “I should rescue Mrs. Beaumont from Vaclav.”

  He sighed. “If I were Ulrich, I’d probably make love with you on top of my desk.”

  Her turn to laugh. “Probably not good for either of our backs.”

  “I’m glad you’ll stay with us,” he said.

  “I may as well. Half my staff is already on the way here. I’ll send for the rest.” And some clothes, including a new gown he hadn’t seen yet.

  “Good.” This time, he did release her, although his hands lingered on her upper arms for a moment. “I’ll come to you tonight.”

  She nodded, and he kissed her forehead. She had to force her feet to leave his study, and when she closed the door, she leaned against it, grinning like a fool. She’d have to find some way to compose herself in front of the others, but it wouldn’t be easy.

  *

  All weddings took elaborate planning. Royal weddings involved an entire, huge household, even an entire country. Beaumont weddings were in a class by themselves, it appeared. The entire female brain trust—Beaumonts, VonRamsbergs, and Marta—sat at a table in Mrs. Beaumont’s sitting room. They’d gone through dozens of sketches from prominent designers and hadn’t decided on the basics of what Dixie’s dress should look like.

  Felice rubbed her eyes and pulled the pad of yellow lined paper in front of her again. “Why don’t we try listing the basic elements of a dress? Then we can go on from there.”

  “It has to be white,” Lorraine, Dixie’s stepsister, said.

  “She’s been married before.” Mrs. Beaumont stared at Dixie. “It’ll have to be ecru.”

  In other words, because Dixie wasn’t a virgin, she didn’t merit white. For a moment, it looked as if Casey wanted to lunge at the woman, but Felice put a hand on Casey’s arm.

  “Oh, Mama, no one goes by that nonsense anymore,” Lorraine said. “The wedding will be on television. She has to be in white.”

  “What in blue blazes makes you think my wedding is going to be on television?” Dixie scooped her little dog up into her lap. She did that a lot when dealing with her family, as if the animal calmed her.

  Lorraine put her hands on her hips. “You’re marrying a prince, silly.”

  Still holding Cupcake, Dixie leaned across the table toward her stepsister. “He’s fourth in line to the throne and that’s only if Dev doesn’t have children.”

  Everyone looked at Felice, who straightened in her chair. “I’m not talking.”

  “Of course, you’re not, my dear.” Marta touched Felice’s shoulder. “Back to the gown.”

  “I suppose it’ll have to be white,” Mrs. Beaumont said. “Show me that last sketch again.”

  Marta passed it across the table toward Mrs. Beaumont.

  “Why don’t we work on the guest list?” Casey said. “We were making some progress there.”

  “The usual people will be invited,” Marta said. “Ambassadors, some heads of state.”

  Mrs. Beaumont fanned herself with her hand. “Isn’t that Vaclav person enough?”

  Casey chuckled, although it came out a bit like a snort.

  Dixie grinned. “I can take care of him.”

  “I’d pay to see that,” Casey said.

  “For you, it’s free, darlin’.” Dixie patted Casey’s hand.

  “Back to work.” Felice grabbed a pen and a pad of paper. “I’ll start a list.”

  “We’ll want everyone from the club at home,” Mrs. Beaumont said.

  Dixie gaped at her stepmother. “Everyone?”

  “Naturally. Your father and I want our friends to see how well our little girl has done,” Mrs. Beaumont said.

  “Since when have I been anyone’s little girl?” Dixie said.

  “You’ve always been, dear,” Mrs. Beaumont said.

  “Who wants to spend a bunch of money to come to Danislova just for a wedding?” Dixie said.

  “A royal wedding,” Mrs. Beaumont corrected. “Besides, we don’t have friends who can’t afford to fly to Europe whenever they want.”

  Dixie leaned back in her chair and scratched Cupcake behind the ear. “Lordy, lordy.”

  “Now, let’s not argue in front of strangers,” Mrs. Beaumont said.

  “They’re not strangers. They’re going to be my sisters-in-law,” Dixie said.

  Mrs. Beaumont glanced at Marta, rather pointedly.

  “I don’t mean to intrude,” Marta said. “This is a family matter.”

  “Stay right where you are, please.” Dixie turned toward her stepmother. “Lady Marta is my friend, and she knows the local customs.”

  Mrs. Beaumont’s smile turned sugary. “I didn’t mean to offend.”

  “No offense taken,” Marta said. “Perhaps I could be of more help consulting with the Prince Royal about his guest list.”

  Silence settled over them when she mentioned Friedrich. Not exactly awkward but fraught with meaning. After a moment, Dixie put Cupcake on the floor and rose. “Say, there’s a dress in one of the official portraits that might be good for my wedding. Mama and Lorraine, let me show you.”

  “Certainly,” Mrs. Beaumont said, but she remained sitting.

  “It’s in the formal dining room,” Dixie said. “I’m not going to lug it in here.”

  “Won’t the others want to see it?” Mrs. Beaumont said.

  “They already have.” Dixie gestured with her arm. “Now, come on.”

  All three Beaumont women left the room, Cupcake trailing after them, although it took a bit of emphasis on Dixie’s part to get Claire out the door. Felice and Casey didn’t say anything for a while, but both of them gazed evenly at Marta the whole time. It seemed Dixie had gotten rid of her stepmother and stepsister on purpose so the remaining young women could ask questions.

  “Shall we get back to work?” Marta asked.

  “Not without Dixie here, I don’t think,” Casey said.

  “Then I’ll come back later.” Marta started to rise, but Felice placed a hand over hers.

  “Stay,” Felice said. “Let’s talk.”

  An interrogation, all right. Ah well, with such fine young women she could consider herself among friends. Marta folded her hands together on the table in front of her. “Very well.”

  Felice and Casey exchanged a glance. Then Felice cleared her throat. “You and Friedrich…”

  “We’re friends.” That wasn’t exactly a lie. They had been friends for a very long time—even throughout their marriages.

  “Do you know the American term ‘friends with benefits’?” Casey asked.

  “You mean…in the bedroom,” Marta said.

  “Uh-huh.” Casey put her elbow on the table and rested her face in her hand, all the time gazing at Marta. The attention could become nerve-wracking, but Marta remained calm as she always did. At least, on the surface.

  “Well…” Casey said finally.

  “What Casey’s trying to say is we’ve noticed the two of you seem to be becoming closer,” Felice said.

  “As in, you’re staying in the palace,” Casey said.

  “I’m helping the staff here,” Marta said. “There’s a great deal to be done and many guests to care for.”

  “Wilson has always managed before,” Felice said.

  “Perhaps he shouldn’t have had to,” Marta said. “I’ve had my own people come to help. It only makes sense I should be here to supervise.”

  “Please understand. We’re not criticizing you,” Felice said.

  “Oh heck, no,” Casey added.

  “It’s just that I remember you giving me a lecture on not passing up an opportunity with a VonRamsberg man,” Felice said.

  “And Felice passed that on to me,” Casey added.

  So Felice remembered. Further, the two women had been talking to each other a
bout it. Perhaps she’d said too much on that occasion. She’d meant to help Felice with her prince. At the time, she’d had no idea she’d find herself in this situation. Only, what was her situation exactly?

  “Prince Friedrich is very much a father to both of us,” Felice said.

  “We love him to pieces,” Casey said.

  “As well you should.”

  “You make him happy.” Felice squeezed Marta’s fingers. “He seems years younger when he’s around you.”

  “I heard him whistling a few days ago,” Casey said.

  “I gather he doesn’t normally whistle.”

  “Not so much as a whist,” Casey said.

  “It’s decided, then. I’ll continue to make him happy.” She picked up one of the pads of paper and flipped through, blindly searching for something to get the subject off herself.

  “When we spoke earlier, you suggested you’d already missed one opportunity with a VonRamsberg man,” Felice said. “That would have to be Friedrich.”

  “Clearly I said too much at the time,” Marta said. “Don’t give it too much weight.”

  “We care about you, too,” Casey said. “Don’t blow your second opportunity.”

  “I’ll bear that in mind.” Curse it all, her cheeks had grown warm. She’d be blushing, and the two of them would see. At least, now she knew she had their support and very likely Dixie’s, too. Though why she’d need it wasn’t exactly clear.

  The Beaumonts chose that moment to return. Marta would never have thought to be relieved for Mrs. Beaumont’s and Lorraine’s presence.

  “That gown wasn’t at all appropriate for a wedding,” Mrs. Beaumont said. “I don’t know what you were thinking, Dixie Ann.”

  “Silly me.” Dixie took her seat at the table and settled her dog in her lap again. Together, they appeared a united front. One Marta would definitely wish to have on her side. Princesses of Danislova. Not a bad position in life at all.

  Chapter Five

  Marta was amazing. Beautiful, cultured, in control at every minute. Unfortunately, Friedrich could scarcely keep his gaze off her, which would give them away if he wasn’t careful.

  He watched her move among the guests at the lawn party she’d helped Felice and Casey put together in honor of the upcoming wedding. Today she wore a silk blouse and a pair of linen slacks. Completely elegant and demure, but he knew from experience now that sweet curves lay beneath her clothes and that she looked just as delicious without a stitch on and with her hair still dripping from her shower.

  Friedrich’s advisor, Grigori, appeared from somewhere and took a position next to Friedrich. His gaze followed Friedrich’s, landing on Marta, of course.

  “This is a wonderful affair, isn’t it?” Friedrich asked.

  “Very well done.” Grigori’s face remained an impassive mask, as always. Absolutely nothing ruffled him, which made him quite an asset during sticky situations, international and domestic.

  “The young princesses Felice and Casey showed themselves to be excellent hostesses,” Grigori said.

  “They did, didn’t they?”

  Felice stood with a group of prominent merchants from the capital city, and Casey and Kurt were entertaining faculty from the university. Music from a chamber orchestra filled the air, and footmen circulated with food and wine. All very elegant and running smoothly.

  “I should do more like this,” Friedrich said.

  “Your subjects do enjoy this sort of thing.”

  Across the wide lawn, Dixie had gathered the children for a game she called a snipe hunt. If he understood correctly, the original version was rather a cruel joke people played on each other, but Dixie had hidden hardboiled eggs in the shrubbery and under trees. She called them “snipe eggs,” and the children could take home the ones they found. Rather like an American Easter egg hunt. With the youngsters gathered around her, she counted down from five and yelled “Go,” and the “hunters” took off in every direction with excited squeals.

  “Miss Beaumont will be quite an asset, I think,” Friedrich said.

  “She has a wonderful touch with the people,” Grigori said.

  She did. Ulrich had chosen well, as had his other two sons. Soon all of them would be married. Babies would follow—lots and lots of grandchildren. Everything he’d ever wanted for himself and his people was within his grasp. If only Cecile were here to witness it with him.

  “The late Princess Royal is still much esteemed by the people, isn’t she?” he asked.

  “They love her, Majesty.”

  “Hm. Yes. Of course.” He spotted Marta again. She’d laughed at something, and the warm, musical sound wafted in his direction. For a moment, their gazes locked, and his heart missed a beat. Then she looked away.

  “If you wouldn’t mind my saying so, Majesty…” Grigori’s expression hadn’t changed.

  “You can speak freely.”

  “I’m certain the people would accept another Princess Royal,” Grigori said. “It’s been a very long time.”

  “It has.” He hadn’t meant for that to sound melancholy. He was truly the most fortunate person in the world. He had everything—wealth, family, his health. He had no reason to complain.

  “She’d have to be the right sort of person, of course,” Grigori said.

  “Well bred, gentle disposition…able to put together events like this one.”

  “Exactly, sir.”

  Friedrich studied Grigori out of the corners of his eyes. The man had actually cracked a smile.

  “I have exactly the right woman in mind,” Friedrich said.

  That earned him quite a display from his advisor. Grigori clapped him on the shoulder. “Congratulations, old friend.”

  “Thank you. She hasn’t accepted.”

  “Have you asked her?” Grigori said.

  “Not yet.”

  “She can’t accept if you don’t ask her.”

  “I’ll do it at the wedding. I don’t want to take away from Ulrich and Dixie’s glory.”

  “Wise decision, Majesty, in every regard.”

  “Well, I suppose I’d better mingle.” He moved off into the crowd. Several people approached while others hung back. Shy, no doubt. He greeted the Bürgermeister and the bishop, who’d officiate at Ulrich’s wedding as he had at the other two. Members of the local guilds greeted him before he moved on to a delegation of teachers. All people he should keep more closely in touch with. The party was, indeed, a huge success.

  Eventually, he made his way toward Marta. Because she’d been staying at the palace to help with the upcoming wedding, no one in the crowd should be surprised if he consulted with her. Besides, decency required he thank her for her work on the event. Later on, he could thank her more intimately.

  He found her surrounded by a group of women with babies—exactly the sort of gathering Cecile would have sought out. People who did the difficult work of bringing the next generation into the world and seeing them through their most formative years. People who got no recognition from the “serious” world of men for what they did. Men including him, unfortunately. One of the women spotted him first and lowered herself into a deep curtsey that had her child balancing precariously at her side. The other women followed suit.

  “Please don’t feel you have to do that,” he said. “The comfort of your babies is more important than an old custom.”

  They straightened, several of them giggling. Marta turned and gave him a smile that melted his heart, in part because she held a little girl perched on her hip.

  She did a little bob of a curtsey, despite what he’d told the others. “Your Majesty.”

  “My daughters-in-law have done a splendid job with this event, wouldn’t you agree?” he said. “With Lady Marta’s help.”

  As hands were occupied with little ones, the women answered verbally rather than with applause.

  “It’s been my pleasure.” Marta handed the little girl to him.

  As monarch, he kissed babies from time to time.
As he gave this one a peck on the cheek, murmurs of excitement went up and perhaps a few more giggles. The baby made happy burbling noises and reached her hand toward his mouth. After pretending to nibble on her fingers, he handed her back to Marta, who returned her to her mother, a plump blonde young woman with a healthy glow to her cheeks.

  For a moment, his arms felt empty without their bundle. Dev and Felice would correct that soon.

  “Would you ladies mind if I borrowed Lady Marta for a moment?” he said. “I’m afraid I need her elsewhere.”

  With the ladies’ general ascent—and a few more curtseys—he touched Marta’s elbow, and they left together.

  For appearances, he kept his distance as they walked across the lawn, his hands at his back. “Thank you for helping Felice and Casey to organize all this. It’s been a long time since I had commoners at the palace.”

  “Your staff did all the work.”

  “Along with your staff,” he said. “And your direction.”

  “I enjoyed it. I haven’t entertained much…” If she’d finished the sentence, she would have added since her husband’s death.

  They walked for a bit without speaking, headed away from the most crowded parts of the gathering. Having her by his side felt natural, although the urge to touch her almost overwhelmed him. So he kept his hands clenched together behind him.

  “What was it you needed me for?” she asked.

  “Everything, it seems.”

  She chuckled. “That’s not very specific.”

  “I’ve missed you. The palace has been so crowded.”

  “Dixie’s stepmother and sister constitute a crowd all by themselves,” she said.

  “You noticed that, did you?”

  “And then, there’s Vaclav.”

  “I suppose every family has its problem relatives,” he said. “What would you say if I could get away from the crowds for a bit tonight?”

  Her gaze focused straight ahead and not on him, she smiled. “For a private consultation?”