Royal Affair (9 page)

“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 about 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.

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.