“Don't be silly. Last night I had a bath and went in there looking for a bathrobe, and the door clicked shut behind me. When I tried to open it I found it had locked itself, and I couldn't get any of the others open, either. I thumped and yelled but nobody heard me. I got a bit panicky, but then I realized there was no real problem. When people came in next morning I'd yell and they'd find me. So I settled down to sleep. What's happened to the tea?”
“There isn't any. It's coffee. But you didn't yell, did you?”
“Well, I would have done if I hadn't overslept. How do I get some tea?”
“I'll give orders for it. It's lucky for us all that you snore. Otherwise we wouldn't have found you.”
“How dare you say I snore!”
“If you didn't snore you could have been there all day. I was going to send out search parties.”
“I see. Bring her back, 'dead or alive.”'
“Just alive,” he snapped. “Dead would be no practical use.”
“You're all heart,” she complained.
“Dottie, don't push me. Right now you're talking to a man who's had a bad fright, and it hasn't left me in the best of moods.”
“And you're talking to someone who's spent the night on the floor wearing only her birthday suit.”
“There's no need to go into details.” he said desperately.
“It hasn't left me feeling that everything's tickety-boo either, especially,” she came to her real grievance, “since I can't get a cup of tea. What's the point of being a princess if I can't get a cuppa? I'd be better off in Wenford.”
“Where I'm strongly tempted to send you.”
“Can't be soon enough for me.”
In the seething silence that followed Randolph pressed a bell in the wall, and when Bertha appeared he said, “Her Royal Highness prefers tea with her breakfast. Please see to it immediately.”
“Yes, sir. Should that be China tea, Indian tea-”
“Just make sure that it's strong enough to stand the spoon up in,” Randolph growled, assailed by memories of breakfast in Wenford.
Bertha curtsied and departed.
Silence.
“Well, you got that right, about the spoon. I'll make an Englishman of you yet,” Dottie said, trying to lighten the atmosphere. From the look he threw her she knew she'd failed.
“Where's Mike?” she asked. “I think we should be eating together.”
“You can call him on the internal phone. Room 43.”
Dottie dialed and was answered at once by an unfamiliar male voice.
“Mike?” she demanded.
“Mr. Kenton is unavailable at the moment. This is his valet.”
“His
“Mr. Kenton is not in the bath, Your Highness. He has been invited to drive a Ferrari and will be away for the rest of the day.”
“I guess I can't compete with a Ferrari,” Dottie murmured wryly, hanging up.
“It was only kind to keep him happy while you're occupied with more weighty matters,” Randolph said. He'd recovered his poise now, and could only hope that Dottie hadn't guessed the reason for his edginess.
The arrival of strong tea helped the atmosphere. Dottie offered him some, but he declined with a shudder.
“Since you've disposed of my fiance, I suppose I'm all yours for the day,” she remarked. “What's the agenda?”
“Your appearance, clothes, hairstyling etc. After a couple of days of intensive preparation there'll be a press conference.”
“What do I say at that?” she asked in alarm.
“Absolutely nothing.”
“Pretty pointless press conference, then.”
“Others will do the talking. You will smile and look regal. The point is that you should be seen.”
“Seen and not heard?”
“Exactly.”
“Come to think of it, they'll get a shock when Princess Dottie opens her mouth.”
“Princess Dorothea,” he corrected her. “Dottie makes you sound crazy.”
“Well, I am crazy. Always was.”
“You
“Fiddle!” she said firmly. “I'm Dottie. If they don't like it, they can send me home.”
“We'll address this problem later,” he growled, adding under his breath, “among many others.”
Dottie concentrated on her breakfast, refusing to answer this provocation.
“You also need to meet various persons of the court,” Randolph continued, “including your future ladies in waiting.”
“Must I have ladies in waiting?” Dottie asked plaintively. “After all, I'll be gone soon. You
“Diligently,” Randolph said. He'd ordered that no stone should be left unturned, in case she carried out her threat to leave. “But as far as the world knows, you've come to stay.”
She couldn't resist giving him an impish look. “Now there's an unnerving thought!”
He met her gaze. “Quite. I wonder which of us is more appalled by it.”
Her lips twitched. “You probably.”
That came too close to home. He turned away from her sharply, pacing the room. And that was how he noticed
It was the copy he himself had given her and it was entirely reasonable for her to read it, but logic was useless against the revulsion that rose in him at the thought of her learning his most painful secrets in this vulgar way. He had to walk away to the window because he couldn't bear to look at her.
In London she'd charmed him, but that had been another world. Here, where she was taking over his birthright, it was hard for him to regard her without hostility.
He turned, meaning to tell her coldly that her humor was inappropriate, but he met her eyes, fixed on him, and saw the small crinkle of bewilderment in her forehead. She looked smaller, more vulnerable than he remembered, and his anger died. It wasn't her fault.
“Eat your breakfast,” he said more gently. “Then Aunt Liz will attend you. She knows all there is to be known about clothes. I suggest you appoint her as your Mistress of Robes, but of course that decision is yours.”
The countess was in an ebullient mood, having spent a hugely enjoyable night making plans for Dottie's appearance. She mourned Dottie's lack of height but praised her dainty build.
“We'll have clothes made to measure, but for your appearance this afternoon we will apply to a boutique, fortunately an extremely exclusive establishment. Once we've purchased the garments, they will withdraw them from their range, of course.”
“Of course,” Dottie murmured. “It'll be interesting to visit some of the shops.”
“What are you thinking of? You can't go to a shop.”
“Well, it won't come to me, will it?”
Aunt Liz was scandalized. “Of course it will.”
Within an hour four young women, trooped in, curtsied and proceeded to display an array of clothes that almost made Dottie weep with ecstasy. She spent two blissful hours trying on, discarding, trying again, changing her mind, going back to the one she'd first thought of. And not once did anyone grow impatient with her.
More young women. Shoes. Underwear. Finally Aunt Liz chose three dresses, “Just to tide you over while your official wardrobe is being made.”
“What about paying for them?” Dottie muttered, conscious of everyone looking at her expectantly.
“These matters are dealt with by your Mistress of Robes.” The countess paused delicately.
“In that case, Aunt Liz, will you do the honors?”
