The Princess Read online

  He was so quick-tempered, so impatient, so intolerant. She remembered their time on the island. She understood now some of his intolerance, some of his anger, but if he remained in Lanconia, he would be consorting daily with people whose lineage could be traced to generations of kings. Their snobbery made Aria’s seem like that of a peasant. How would they treat this American commoner? How would he react to their treatment of him? She had a vision of Lieutenant Montgomery wrapping Cousin Freddie’s pearls about his thin neck the first time Freddie looked down his nose at the American.

  And then there was the fact that the lieutenant didn’t want to be prince consort. She didn’t think he could do a good job at best, but if he was reluctant, he would be like a large, spoiled two-year-old.

  She took a deep breath and turned away from the window. Mr. Sanderson was right: it was over.

  Her easy, happy American interlude was over. It was time now to return to her destiny. She had been born to be queen and now she must continue preparing for that duty—no, the honor of being queen, she corrected herself.

  She was able to smile when J.T. reentered the room.

  He frowned. “I guess you’re glad to be home.”

  “Yes and no. America will always be a fond memory to me. Dolly said she will visit me, so I don’t plan to lose all contact with your country. Perhaps you will visit—”

  “No,” he said sharply. “Can we get this over? I mean our public argument?”

  “It has been postponed.” She was studying his face. Until today she had thought they were always to be married but now she knew these were their last few hours together. “We dine together and…and spend the night, then tomorrow or the next day I’ll be contacted, I’m sure. Tomorrow we must be seen as often as possible by as many people as possible.”

  He wore only a towel about his middle and was rubbing his wet hair with another towel. He looked so good her fingers ached to touch him.

  “I wish you hadn’t,” he said. “I need to get back to the base as soon as possible and the sooner…” He trailed off.

  She stiffened. “The sooner you get rid of me the better.”

  He looked at her for a long moment. “It’ll be better for me to get this over with.”

  Dinner was one of the most difficult meals she had ever experienced. She felt like a fool because the idea of not seeing him again was making her very sad but he couldn’t wait to get rid of her. He was cool and remote to her.

  Aria had to hide her feelings and play the despicable American when any Lanconian was near.

  “You think we want a table out in the middle?” she demanded. “J.T., honey, they want to stare at me. They want to point at me and say I look like their plain-faced princess. Do we have to stay in this town? I don’t know if I’m gonna be able to stand it.”

  “This way, madame,” said the haughty waiter, and led them to a secluded table in the corner.

  “What will you do when you get back?” Aria asked when they were alone.

  “Look at Buicks,” he said, then glowered at her. “Work. Do what I can to help in the war.”

  “Will they let you keep our little house?”

  “I don’t want it.”

  Aria smiled at that. Perhaps he too was upset at their parting. “I shall miss America and I shall miss you,” she whispered.

  He looked down at his empty plate. “It’ll be nice to have my time be my own again. I’ve been neglecting my work.”

  She didn’t say anything in reply to him. Their food came and still she said nothing.

  “Will you see Heather again?” she asked at last.

  “I’m going to go out with every woman in the southeastern U.S. And you? You going to marry your little count?”

  “Really!” she said, her eyes glaring into his. “Sometimes you can be most infantile. Count Julian is a perfectly suitable man and he will make an excellent prince consort. Better than you could do.”

  “Better than I could do? Let me tell you, baby, what this backward place of yours needs is a shot of new blood. You’d be lucky if I stayed with you, but I wouldn’t have this place on a platinum platter. There’s a war going on out there, but these people are so wrapped up in their own petty problems that they don’t even see anyone else’s.”

  “We are not involved in a war and that is what is wrong with us?” she seethed. “You aggressive, angry Americans could learn a lot from our peaceful country. We don’t destroy ourselves and other countries with our war machines.”

  “Because you don’t fight for anything. You just let the outside world take care of you. You’re willing to profit from the war by selling the vanadium but you aren’t willing to sacrifice your men for soldiers.”

  “Are you calling us cowards? Our country was founded by the greatest warriors in the world. In 874 A.D. we—”

  “What the hell do I care about your history? Now you’re a bundle of lily-livered extortionists with a petticoat ruler.”

  At that she rose and slapped him hard before storming out of the dining room. She ran out of the hotel and into the street, into the cool night air, past people who looked as if they were seeing a ghost, down one street after another. She had no idea where she was going. Her experience of the streets of Escalon was limited to rides in ceremonial carriages. When she was a little girl, she thought the driver merely followed the trail of rose petals to get where he was going.

  How could she have considered that man as prince consort? How could she have allowed bed pleasure to influence her rational thinking? He was the pigheaded, intolerant bigot she had first thought he was. She was quite willing to learn American ways and to see thoughts and ideas through American eyes, but he could see no other way than his own. His country was very young, with an adolescent’s energies. America wanted power and was willing to kill for it. Her country was old and had learned the power of peace. At one point her ancestors had ruled a big portion of Europe and Russia. In fact, the reason her family was in power was because they had bred the largest, strongest warriors.

  Yet this American had called them cowards! Extortionists!

  She walked for a long time, not seeing where she was going, just walking and cursing herself for being such a fool.

  She halted when she ran into someone. “Excuse me,” she said, still using the American expression. She looked into the eyes of her Lord High Chamberlain. He was an arrogant man who expected the streets to clear when he walked them. Intelligence burned in his black eyes.

  Aria wanted him to see her and to remember her. “Path not wide enough for you, bub?” she said. “You knock ladies into the street here?”

  He drew back from her as if she were a bit of fungus.

  Aria leaned forward and put her hands on his badge of office. “Hey! Are you royalty or somethin’? What’s that say on there? Is that Latin? We have Latin in America. Do you know the princess? People here say I look like her, but I don’t think I do, but I was thinkin’ maybe I could borrow a crown of hers and have my picture taken. It’ll be real funny back home. How much do you think she’d charge to rent one of her crowns? Or maybe she’d just loan it bein’ as we look alike an’ all. What d’ya think, buster?”

  The Lord High Chamberlain flared his nostrils at her and moved away.

  “That’s no way to treat an American citizen,” she yelled after him, disturbing the tranquil street. “We own your country, you know. You ought to be nice to us.”

  People looked out of their doors and windows at her.

  “I’m gonna report you to the American ambassador,” she said loudly, then turned to an openmouthed bystander and demanded directions to the embassy.

  It was after midnight when she arrived and she was surprised to see every light in the building on. Someone must have been watching the entrance because the door opened before she reached it.

  A large, matronly woman who was desperately trying to hold on to her figure via the use of rigid corsets swooped into the room like a decorated snow shovel and ushered Aria up the