Page 4 of Last Duke Standing

And therein lay yet another rub. Dante didn’t trust the princess to choose the right sort, especially given recent events. He still grimaced when thinking of how his first year in office had been consumed with the princess’s wretched involvement with Duke Gustav’s son, the degenerate libertine, Aldabert.

Princess Justine placed her hands on either side of the podium. She looked up at the small audience and said, “Good evening.”

“I beg your pardon, Your Royal Highness, but you must speak louder,” Monsieur DuPree urged her.

The princess bowed her head a moment to gather herself.

Aldabert Gustav.What delight had filled Dante when that lying scoundrel had been banished from the country. He was a spoiled brat who valued carnal pleasure over duty, the trophy of a young princess’s virtue over the national scandal it could cause. He had nothing to recommend him and had boldly lied to gain the princess’s favor and God only knew what liberties. And still, when presented with the evidence of his perfidy, Princess Justine had stubbornly refused to believe him rotten to the core.

The whole sordid affair had become a royal fiasco and had required a rather large payment from the king’s personal coffers to the estate of Lord Gustav to see his profligate son married to a German heiress at once and booted from the country.

The princess lifted her head again. Her cheeks were now entirely devoid of color and caused her to appear unwell. Was it really so very painful to address a few? It was so odd to Dante—she could bequiteself-assured in private, but when pressed to speak publicly, she lost all confidence.

She cleared her throat. She picked up the paper on which her speech had been penned, and even from this distance Dante could see how it shook.

“If only she would speak,” the queen whispered loudly. “I think it would be better if Amelia made the speech. She’s much livelier.”

Princess Justine lowered the paper and looked up at the royal box. “I would be just as happy for Amelia to make the speech, Mama.”

“Oh! I beg your pardon, darling. Don’t pay us any heed. You’re doing very well, dear!” the queen tittered.

The princess looked at the paper again.

Dante disagreed with the queen’s opinion. Princess Amelia reminded him of an unruly child whereas Princess Justine was elegant.

“Good evening!” the princess said again, much louder. She absently wiped her palm along the side of her skirt again, and the queen clucked her tongue with annoyance.“Bonem owen,”the princess continued, wishing everyone a good evening in Weslorian. And then she began to speak in Weslorian, her voice quaking, the words halting. She spoke as if the words made no sense to her, which was absurd. While it was true that the princesses had been born to a mother whose native tongue was German and a father whose native tongue was Weslorian, and who together spoke the common language between them—English—the princess spoke Weslorian fluently.

“Ledia et harrad.”Ladies and gentlemen.That was better, then. “Welcome,” she said again in English, forgetting which language she ought to speak for a moment. And then she continued in Weslorian often broken with English. “En honra e...independence...” She paused to squint at the paper. “We...co...”

“Non!”Monsieur DuPree said, coming to his feet. “Again, please, Your Royal Highness.”

“I beg your pardon, sir, but I can’t read without my eyeglasses.”

“We had quite a row about them yesterday,” the queen whispered to Dante. “But I will not have her looking like a bluestocking.” As if there was something wrong with a daughter who might appear to be educated and well-read.

“Perhaps it is the Weslorian?” Dante wondered aloud. “It is not her preferred language.”

The queen bristled. “But it is her native language. She should have applied herself to the study of it more fully.”

That was rich, seeing as how the queen had never learned to speak Weslorian.

“Par de...candidates?” the princess said below. She squinted at the paper. “Oh, I beg your pardon.Candreda,” she said.

The princess moved the paper farther from her face. Below her, her sister and her friends giggled. The small crowd of courtiers grew restless, and the princess turned even paler.“Par de candreda,”she said.

Monsieur DuPree stood slowly. With his hands clasped behind his back, he deliberately walked up the steps and onto the stage to consult with her again. The princess turned to face him almost as if she expected a blow.

“I often wonder why couldn’t Amelia have been firstborn?” the queen mused on a sigh, and settled back in her chair. “She’s so gregarious. A natural at this sort of thing, and—”

“Mama!” Princess Justine said sharply. “I canhearyou.”

“I beg your pardon, my darling. Carry on!” The queen folded her arms. “What are we going to do, Robuchard?” she whispered. “She’shopeless.”

Princess Justine wasn’t hopeless in the least, but that was neither here nor there. This was the moment Dante had long been seeking, the opportunity to suggest his well-studied plan to the queen without appearing to be impertinent. “I do have one suggestion, if you please, Your Majesty.”

“What is it?”

He leaned as close as he could without drawing attention. He spoke in a whisper as Monsieur DuPree went behind the princess, put his hands on her waist and positioned her before the podium. “I would suggest that we send Her Royal Highness to London to apprentice with a woman who herself was once a young queen. Victoria assumed the throne at the age of eighteen and I think she could offer invaluable advice.”

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