fairy on top of the cake. It's Dottie.”
“Very well, for the moment-Dottie. Bertha will bring you some clothes, and Aunt Liz will help you with them. She's actually the Countess Gellitz, and I think you'll like her.”
The countess arrived a few minutes later. She was middle-aged, motherly and elegant, despite being plump. Dottie was soon calling her Aunt Liz, like everyone else.
The sense of unreality increased when she found herself wearing a simple, elegant white dress, plainly expensive and like nothing she'd ever worn before. Then Bertha got to work on her face and hair while Aunt Liz explained that in future this would be the prerogative of her personal beautician and her personal hairdresser. They must be appointed without delay to prepare her for future big occasions, but as today's meeting was urgent, Bertha would do a “rush job.”
To Dottie's awed eyes Bertha's rush job was the equal of the expensive London salons where she'd pressed her nose against the window and dreamed. The woman looking back at her from the mirror had huge, subtly made-up blue eyes, perfectly lined lips and a flawless, peachy complexion. Her eyebrows had mysteriously developed an aristocratic arch, while her short hair had been teased into sophisticated curves.
Obscurely, she could feel herself being transformed into another person, and she tried to cling on to her self, which was hard because she was slipping away. Besides which, the other person looked as if she might be fun to be, and temptation was undermining Dottie's resolve.
I will be strong-minded, she told herself. I will not be seduced by all this. Well-not for long, anyway.
She realized that a dispute was taking place over her head. Aunt Liz had selected gold jewelry, while Bertha preferred diamond-studded platinum. The argument raged while Dottie looked from one to the other like a tennis spectator, ignored by both. Randolph, who'd left the room while she dressed, returned in time to witness the moment.
“I prefer gold,” she ventured to say at last.
“You see?” Aunt Liz cried triumphantly. “Her Royal Highness has excellent taste.”
Bertha glowered. Dottie mouthed, “Next time” to her
“Well done, Dottie,” Randolph murmured. “You have the soul of a diplomat.”
At last she stood and regarded her coiffured, manicured, made-up and gilded self in the mirror. There was no doubt that the woman staring back at her looked good. But who was she?
“It's time to meet your ministers,” Randolph said.
He positioned her in the middle of her reception room. The double doors were thrown open and a troop of middle-aged men streamed in. Each of them threw her a sharp, curious look before bowing. Randolph introduced them, Jacob Durmand, the prime minister, Alfred Sternheim, chancellor, Felix Andras, minister for Foreign Affairs, Bernhard Enderlin, the minister of the Interior. There were several others, but she lost count.
“Gentlemen,” Randolph said gravely, “allow me to present to you Crown Princess Dorothea, heiress to the throne of Elluria.”
As he spoke he moved away from her side and joined the men facing her. He was the first to bow, but a little stiffly, as though it came hard to him. Then it hit her. Randolph was openly proclaiming that he was one of her subjects. The thought disconcerted her more than anything else had done in that whole incredible day.
The prime minister stepped forward. “On behalf of your people and your parliament, may I have the honor of welcoming Your Royal Highness…”
It went on for several minutes, during which Dottie pulled herself together and worked out what she was going to say.
At last Jacob Durmand finished and everyone was looking at her expectantly. She took a deep breath.
“I'm grateful to all of you for wanting to make me your queen, but the fact is, it's not on. You're so anxious to find an heir that you've pounced on the first person who looks likely, but there's got to be someone better suited than me. I'm not queen material, honest.”
By this time her entire council was staring at her, aghast. Dottie hurried on before she could lose the thread.
“I know you need me around just now, because of Harold. Okay, here's the deal. I'll stay for another few weeks, just to hold the fort against him.”
“And when the few weeks are up?” Randolph inquired.
“By then you'll have found another heir. Yes, you will,” to forestall their protests she held up her hand in an unconsciously imperious gesture. “You will, because you're going to go on searching. When you've found someone, I'll go home.”
“You don't know what you're talking about,” Sternheim said scathingly.
Dottie regarded him. “In the meantime I think you should address me as Your Royal Highness,” she declared coolly. She then spoiled the effect by muttering to Randolph, “Or do I mean Your Majesty?”
“Not until after your coronation.”
“In that case,” she told Sternheim, “you should have said, 'You don't know what you're talking about, Your Royal Highness.”'
Sternheim was rendered speechless.
“What are we going to do?” the chancellor groaned.
“We're going to do what our princess suggested,” Randolph said.
“You see?” Dottie said sunnily. “I'm right.”
“I didn't say you were right,” Randolph repressed her. “I said we were going to do it your way-for reasons of realpolitik.”
“Pardon?”
“It means you hold all the cards,” he said wryly. “But if you're going to be convincing you have to play this for real. As far as the world knows you're here to claim your throne. Let Harold get a hint to the contrary and he'll be at our doors.”
“But I don't know how to be a princess.”
“At this stage you only have to look like one,” Randolph assured her. “Receptions and receiving lines.” He added slyly, “The hardest part will be the hours you'll spend being fitted for your new clothes.”
“New clothes?” Dottie murmured.
“Your royal dignity demands that you don't wear the same outfit in public twice, so it means a lot of work. But I know you'll do your duty for the sake of the country.”
She considered. “Well, if it's my duty, I suppose I might.”
“You'll find that-what was that noise?”
“That's the royal stomach rumbling,” Dottie muttered. “You promised me something to eat and I haven't had it yet.”
“The audience is over,” Randolph declared hastily.
Everyone filed out, but Dottie noticed that each man stopped in the doorway to give her a final, doubtful look.
“They know I can't do it,” she told Randolph when they were alone.
He whirled on her. “Never,
“All right, all right,” she said, alarmed by the change in him.
He calmed down. “Forgive me. I didn't mean to shout at you, but this is more important than you can imagine. You must be convinced that you can do it, convinced to your depths. The essence of being a princess is to believe in yourself as a princess. Otherwise how can anyone else believe it?”
She was too tired to argue with him. She watched thankfully as two footmen wheeled in a table, already laid.
“Only for one?” she queried. “Aren't you going to stay?”
“I have urgent business to attend to. You have a full day tomorrow, so when you've eaten, go straight to bed.”
“Your Royal Highness,” she reminded him mischievously.
“Go straight to bed, Your Royal Highness.”
She climbed into the four poster as soon as she'd eaten, and found it more comfortable than she'd expected. But her thoughts were in too much turmoil for her to sleep, and after lying awake for half an hour she put on the
