Lucy Gordon - Princess Dottie

Oh, no! he thought in dismay. Please Sophie, not that!

He didn't blame her. He knew the family pressure she was under to find a royal husband, and Harold was now the most eligible. But he felt sick at the thought that she might ally herself with a man he despised. Then he realized that Dottie was watching his face, and he hastily smiled.

The dance was coming to an end. He led her back to her dais, bowed and excused himself. Suddenly feeling very lonely, Dottie looked around for Mike, but there was no sign of him. What she did see was Randolph approaching Sophie and firmly cutting out the Korburg ambassador. She watched miserably as they circled the floor, until Aunt Liz touched her arm and indicated somebody that she really ought to honor with her attention.

For a while Randolph and Sophie waltzed in silence. But at last he could contain himself no longer and said in a soft, urgent voice, “Don't do it, Sophie. For pity's sake, don't do it.”

“Are you the man who should say that to me?” she asked softly. “What else should I do? Wear the willow for you?”

“No, not that, but how could we marry when I have nothing to offer? There was no choice for either of us. Your father made me see that.”

“I understand. Forgive me for what I said, beloved. You're a good man. I know your heart too is broken.”

A frisson of unease went through him. Perhaps she sensed it, for she gave a beautifully modulated sob.

“Sophie, please,” he murmured. “Don't cry here.”

Swiftly he danced her out onto the terrace. She was still weeping, and he felt vaguely embarrassed, and then ashamed of his embarrassment. Once he'd thought her cool, composed, a good friend but no more. Her apparent desolation at his loss made him awkwardly conscious that his own feelings had always been weaker.

“Sophie, my dear,” he said as they slowed to a halt, “what do you want me to do?”

“I know you can't change anything,” she sobbed. “I accept it, but you mustn't blame me for what I do.”

“How could I ever blame you? But it hurts me to think of you as that man's wife.”

“And yet you yourself will soon be married, won't you?”

“Hush,” he placed his fingertips gently over her mouth. “Don't speak of that.”

“No, there's nothing more to say, for either of us. Kiss me goodbye.”

Saddened by her grief, and what he felt to be his own inadequate response, he drew her close and laid his lips tenderly on hers. It was the kiss of a generous friend, but from a short distance it could have had the appearance of a lovers' embrace.

At least, that was how it seemed to Dottie, standing at a window, looking out with bleak eyes.

Mike appeared in her room at noon next day, hung-over and apologetic.

“Don't know what was in that stuff I drank,” he said. “Maybe I should have stuck to beer.” He rubbed his head.

“What made you change the habits of a lifetime?” Dottie asked. She too wasn't feeling at her best today.

“I didn't want to offend Countess Bekendorf. Mind you, she wasn't so bad.”

“What on earth did you find to talk about?”

“It was some of the stuff your grandpa told me, about your royal ancestors.”

“But you told me you couldn't remember that.”

“I can't when I'm sober, but last night I wasn't sober.”

“So what was it?”

Mike looked rueful. “Sorry Dot, I'm sober again now.”

“Oh well,” Dottie sighed, “she was bound to try to find out if I'm an impostor. So now she knows that I'm the real thing. Not that it matters. They'll find someone else soon, and then you and I can go home and get married.”

She was eager for their departure. There was something about this place that made her behave unlike herself. It wasn't Dottie who'd insisted on kissing Randolph. Nor was it Dottie who'd teased him with her half-clad body, determined to get a response from him and bitterly satisfied when she received one. Dottie would never behave like that because she loved Mike, and it was love that mattered, not lust.

Lust. She considered it, trying to see it in relation to herself. All right, she admitted at last. She fancied Randolph. Fancied him like mad, if the truth be told. But that wasn't real life.

She didn't see him for a couple of days. He'd left in the early hours after the ball and gone to an estate he had nearby. She left a message for him, and he came to her as soon as he returned.

“You should have found another heir by now,” she said quietly.

“But I haven't. There's only you.”

“But I have to go back to England.”

“Are you going to abandon us?” Randolph demanded fiercely. “You have a short memory if you can forget how the people of this country have welcomed you. You know what our fate will be if you desert us.”

“They can put you back on the throne,” she said desperately. “It should be you by rights. I'm all wrong. You've said so often enough, and it's true.”

“Yes, it is, but it doesn't matter. I'm illegitimate and therefore barred from the throne.”

“Well, they can have a what d'you call it? Referee-”

“Referendum.”

“Referendum. People can vote for you to be king and then you can marry Sophie and everything will be all right.” She hadn't meant to add that last bit.

“If I tried to claim the throne, even with the consent of parliament and the people, Harold would use that as an excuse to start a war. And if I stand back and let him become king, he'll plunder the country and crush its people. The only person who can stop that is you.”

“And where does Mike come in your grand scheme of things?”

“He doesn't. You can't marry him. Surely you've realized that?”

“You mean I should just dump him? Oh, lovely. Sorry Mike, it's been nice knowing you but something better has turned up. A nice opinion of me you have! Remember how it felt to lose Sophie?”

The bleak, guarded look that she dreaded appeared in Randolph's eyes. “Why don't we go and talk to Mike?” he asked smoothly. “He's surely entitled to express an opinion.”

“I see your game. You'll give him the fancy speech you've just given me, and then you think he'll make the grand sacrifice.”

“I admit I don't associate him with grand sacrifices. He impresses me as a very down-to-earth young man, doing everything for prosaic reasons.”

“Right! And he'll tell you to jump in the lake.”

“I'm trembling.”

“And then I'll tell you to jump in the lake, and since I'm the crown princess you'll have to do it.”

“At Her Royal Highness's command I'll jump in any lake you care to name. Would you like me to wear a lead weight about my neck?”

“Don't be funny with me, buster!”

As they talked Randolph had contrived to urge her out of the door that led to one of the hidden corridors. Dottie followed him, furiously angry. At last she found herself on a little landing, outside a nondescript door. Randolph took a key and unlocked it, ushering her forward. She strode into the room, ready to confront Mike, but the sight that met her eyes drove everything else out of her mind.

Stretched out on the grandiose bed, her eyes closed in pleasure, lay a naked young woman. The rest of her face was obscured by the back of Mike's head. He was also naked, and far too occupied with what he was doing to realize that his fiancée had entered the room. Only drastic action was going to get through to him, so Dottie took it, raising her hand high above her head and bringing it down hard on his vigorously working rump.

His yell of surprise and outrage hit the ceiling. Wriggling away to escape, he contrived to fall right off the bed, landing in an undignified heap at her feet, and revealing the identity of his companion, who screamed as she saw Dottie's doom-laden face.

“You've got a nerve, Bren,” Dottie told her. “But I'll come to you later, when I've thumped him to kingdom come and back.”

“Now, Dot,” Mike said from the floor where he was haplessly trying to cover himself and squirm away from her at the same time. “Don't lose your sense of proportion.”

“I don't have one,” she growled. “As you're about to discover. Oh, get up for pity's sake!”

He did so, his hands clutched protectively in front of him, his eyes fixed warily on Dottie. Randolph had been discreetly locating Brenda's robe and helping her put it on. Mike's clothes were scattered about the room, suggesting some urgency in their removal, which did nothing to improve Dottie's temper.

“What are you doing here anyway?” she demanded of Brenda.

“I won a holiday,” Brenda said sullenly.

“Oh really!” Dottie turned her fire on Randolph. “Courtesy of the Ellurian Tourist Authority, I suppose? You weren't offered a honeymoon as well, by any chance?”

“None of your business!”

“Oh yes it is,” Dottie said wrathfully. “You forget you're talking to the queen.”

“Not quite yet-” Randolph murmured.

“You hush!” she told him firmly. “You've told me often enough about my power. Well, how's this for power?” She swung back to the other two. “I could have both of you arrested, locked up and nobody would ever hear of you again.”

Brenda gave a little squeak, and Mike edged closer to her. “She can't do it, love,” he muttered. “We haven't broken the law.”

“Think treason,” Dottie suggested dangerously. “Think firing squad.”

“Her Royal Highness is naturally disturbed by this breach of protocol,” Randolph said smoothly, “and she desires only to find a way out of the unfortunate situation.”

“A firing squad,” Dottie said stubbornly.

“Aw, c'mon Dot,” Mike said placatingly. “You'd finished with me anyhow. You just hadn't gotten around to telling me yet.”

Before she could answer Randolph drew her aside. “Perhaps you shouldn't blame him too much,” he murmured. “After all, you too have permitted yourself-shall we say the odd moment of dalliance?”