His face bore a look of resolution, as though he’d just come to a decision. Lizzie waited with pounding heart for what he would say next. But when the words came, they were the last she had expected.
‘I think the time has come to drop all pretence between us,’ he said in a voice that was curiously hard for a man in the throes of passion.
‘I’m not sure I understand you.’
‘I believe you do. When we spoke in London I had-shall we say certain suspicions? Which you obligingly confirmed. You’ve come here to sell, and I am prepared to buy.’
‘Prepared-to buy?’ Lizzie echoed slowly, trying to silence the monstrous thought that had reared up in her brain.
‘At a sensible price, yes. You obviously know the value of what you bring to market-’
‘And what exactly is it that you think I bring to market?’ Lizzie asked, her eyes narrowing.
He looked surprised for a moment, but then shrugged. ‘You’re quite right to put negotiations on a businesslike footing. I’m prepared to be reasonable about money, even generous, but don’t try to overcharge me-’
He got no further. What he might have said next was cut off by a stinging slap from a very angry woman. Then they were staring at each other, each trying to believe that it had happened.
Lizzie had never slapped a man’s face before. She considered it undignified and violent. Now, in a turmoil of hurt pride, hurt feelings and sheer outrage, she was discovering how satisfying it could be.
‘Have you any idea,’ he said slowly, ‘of the penalty for attacking the King?’
‘Don’t make me laugh!’ she stormed, in the worst temper of her life. ‘All right, go on. Summon the guards and tell them that you tried to buy your way into my bed and got your face slapped. I don’t think so. No man has ever had me for money, and no man ever will. King or no king! And if you thought I was for sale when you invited me here, boy, did you make a mistake!’
He was paler than she’d ever seen any man. Doubtless from the shock of being treated so disrespectfully, she thought with grim satisfaction.
‘And I,’ he said at last, ‘have never needed to buy my way into a woman’s bed. Nor am I interested in your charms.’
‘That’s a lie,’ she said, casting caution to the winds.
He shrugged. ‘Possibly. But I have never allowed my personal desires to interfere with politics, and you would do well to remember that in our dealings.’
‘We’re not going to have any more dealings,’ she said breathlessly.
‘That is for me to say. When we’ve discussed business I will inform you of our future dealings.’
‘Why, you arrogant-’
‘Of course I am. I’m a king; what did you expect?’ His eyes gleamed at her. ‘We’re not just characters in books. There’s still a reality behind the title, and the reality is power, especially here and now. I’ve wasted enough time. I want the letters.’
‘Letters? What letters?’
‘Oh, please! You know what you’re here for.’
‘I know what I’m not here for, and if you come any closer-’
His eyes flicked over her without interest. ‘You flatter yourself-at least for the moment,’ he said coldly. ‘All that concerns me is the bundle of letters in your possession.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
He sighed. ‘Very well, we must play the game out-although I had credited you with more intelligence. When we were in London, you yourself told me of the relationship between your great-aunt and my grandfather.’
‘Well yes, except that nobody really knew for certain-’
‘I know for certain. They were lovers. Their correspondence leaves no doubt of the fact.’
The historian stirred in her. ‘Correspondence?’
‘When I assumed the throne I went through all my grandfather’s possessions. Among them was a locked chest that turned out to contain a pile of letters. They were from an English woman who signed herself “your own Liz, for ever”.’
‘You mean they were love letters?’
‘Yes, they were love letters, and they totally undermine my grandfather’s reputation.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘He was known and respected as a rigid disciplinarian, a stern patriarch and an aloof monarch. Royalty, he believed, should “keep a proper distance”. Because he lived up to his beliefs he was deeply respected, all over the world.’
‘But he didn’t “keep a proper distance” from this lady?’
‘It would appear not. The letters are emotional and indiscreet, and they strongly suggest that his replies must have been the same.’ Daniel’s eyes narrowed. ‘But I imagine you could tell me about that?’
‘Me? Why should you think I know anything?’
‘Because the replies are in your possession. You are Dame Elizabeth’s heir, the one she trusted to preserve her legend. Who else?’
‘But she never mentioned anything like this. And who’s to say it was her? Did this woman ever sign her full name?’
‘No, it was always “Liz”, but she’s the only possibility. The dates are very revealing. In August 1955 she wrote saying how much she had enjoyed seeing him again, and how sad she was to have left him. Dame Elizabeth was touring Voltavia in July 1955, and returned to England in the first week in August.’
‘That certainly looks likely. But why did she never tell me?’
‘If that’s meant to be a negotiating ploy, let me warn you that it isn’t a good one.’
‘Look, I knew nothing about this.’
‘Nonsense! You as good as admitted that you had them when we spoke in London.’
‘I-?’
‘All that talk about the value of personal letters. You stressed that your great-aunt knew King Alphonse as nobody else did, and that such knowledge was priceless. That was your exact word.’
‘Yes, but I didn’t mean-’
‘And I, you may remember, said that sooner or later a price could always be agreed. You have my grandfather’s letters and you’ve kept them to publish. It would be treasure-trove to a historian. But I don’t mean to see my family secrets bandied about for the world to laugh at. You will hand them over to me. I’ll pay a reasonable price, but I won’t be trifled with.’
The truth was dawning on Lizzie. ‘Is that the reason you brought me here-the only reason?’ she demanded, aghast.
‘What other reason could there be?’
She thought of his kiss, how giddy it had made her. And she’d rushed here, dreaming of more sweet delight. She could have screamed with vexation.
Instead she spoke with careful restraint. ‘We seem to have misunderstood each other. I don’t have your grandfather’s letters. I don’t even know that they exist. The Dame may have destroyed them. Have you thought of that?’
‘Please!’ he said dismissively. ‘A woman? Destroy love letters? Is any woman discreet enough for that?’
‘Is any man? Alphonse didn’t destroy his, did he? I don’t think you should get on your high horse about indiscretion.’
That annoyed him, she was glad to see. He flushed angrily and snapped, ‘This argument gets us nowhere. I know you have these letters-’
‘Rubbish! You know nothing of the kind!’
‘Do not interrupt me. I know you have these letters because you virtually offered them to me in London.’
‘I did not. I mentioned personal correspondence because that’s what a historian always wants to see. I didn’t know what you were reading into it.’
‘You went out of your way to assure me that Dame Elizabeth kept everything.’
‘But I didn’t mean this. How could I when I knew nothing about it? If they were in the house I’d have found them.’