“Yes, love,” she said kindly. “We'll talk about it later. I want to tell you what this joker's up to.” Briefly she outlined what Randolph had told her, but with an ironic tone, managing to imply that only a madman would believe a word of it.
“We're going to be landing in a minute,” she said, “and there'll be all sorts going on.”
“What are we going to do?” Mike asked.
She took his face between her hands. “Mike darling, don't say anything. Just leave the talking to me.”
As she delivered the order she caught Randolph's ironic eye on her.
To Dottie's relief their arrival passed off quietly. The plane came to rest in a discreet corner of the airfield, steps were rolled up, and she descended, firmly holding onto Mike, straight to a waiting limousine. As soon as Randolph had joined them the journey began.
The light was fading and she could see little through the car's darkened windows. Even so, the sight that met her eyes after twenty minutes was breathtaking.
“That's the royal palace,” Randolph said, following her gaze.
The classically elegant building was nearly a quarter of a mile long, and was reached by a long avenue of ornate fountains. Two Z-shaped staircases led up the front. Wherever she looked Dottie saw windows filled with faces, proving that her arrival was already known. It was a relief when the car swung around to the side of the building, and a more discreet entrance. To her awe a footman stepped forward and opened her door, bowing slightly.
This was her, Dottie Hebden, being bowed to. Any minute she would wake up.
She allowed Randolph to lead her into the building, and had advanced some yards before she realized something was wrong.
“Where's Mike?” she demanded.
“My aide is looking after him. I give you my word, he'll come to no harm.”
“As long as he's ready to leave, with me, first thing tomorrow morning,” she said with more firmness than she felt.
As he spoke they were rising in a small elevator.
“It's the quickest way up to the state apartments,” he explained.
Dottie set her chin but said no more. When the elevator stopped she found herself in a small corridor, with three dark oak doors leading off. Randolph opened the largest.
“This is the rear entrance to your apartment.”
She found herself in a set of luxurious rooms that took her breath away. There was the royal reception room, the royal bathroom, the royal dressing room and the royal bedroom. This last one was like a small cathedral, with a ceiling that soared high above them.
“I'll bet this is murder to heat properly,” Dottie muttered.
“My mother always said the same thing,” Randolph agreed. “That's why you'll be glad of the four poster bed. The drapes keep out drafts. Now, allow me to present your maid, Bertha.”
A strongly built young woman with a cheerful face advanced and, to Dottie's horrified fascination, dropped a curtsy. Confused and distracted by this, Dottie obeyed the dictates of good manners and curtsied back. Bertha was aghast.
“I shouldn't have done that, should I?” Dottie muttered.
“Never mind,” Randolph whispered back.
“Can't you make her go away?”
“You have Her Royal Highness's permission to leave,” Randolph announced, and Bertha fled.
“Now do you believe that this will never work?”
Dottie said in despair when they were alone. “When do I see the British consul?” “You don't.”
“Ahh! I knew it. It's a con.”
“Your Royal Highness cannot deal with a mere consul,” Randolph explained. “The British ambassador will attend you.”
For some reason, that was the moment when she began to believe that this was really happening. The last of her disbelief vanished a few minutes later when the tall, elegant figure of Sir Ambrose Philips entered the room, and bowed to her. He was splendid in evening attire, glittering with ribbons and medals.
“My apologies for not being here earlier,” he murmured. “I was attending a dinner.”
“I'm sorry I dragged you away from it,” she said, suddenly horribly conscious of her shorts.
“On the contrary. I am honored to attend Your Royal Highness.” Sir Ambrose gave her a courtly bow.
“I'll leave you now,” Randolph said. “I'm sure you'd prefer to talk alone.”
As soon as the door had closed on him Dottie whirled on the ambassador. “What's going on here? Do you know?”
“Randolph has apprised me of the situation,” he admitted. “I need hardly say how glad Her Majesty's government was to discover that the heir to Elluria hails from the United Kingdom. The understanding between our two countries-”
“Speak English, will you?” she said frantically.
He abandoned his lofty mien. “Elluria is an important country, both in its position and its wealth. Some of the minerals to be found here are as valuable as oil. We have mining agreements that are vital to manufacturing in our country, but Harold of Korburg would tear them up and sell to the highest bidder. He has to be kept out and you're the person to do it.”
“Says who? There must be other heirs.”
“Perhaps there are, but nobody's found them yet. If you walk out, Harold will take over next day.”
“You say that, but I bet I'm not free to leave.”
“You are totally free. But if you leave, your country will suffer.”
“Which one?” Dottie asked urgently.
“Both of them.”
“And if I stay here, just for a while?”
“Then you would find the British government eager to reward you suitably.”
“Enough to buy a garage?”
“I'm sure there wouldn't be any problem about that.”
She drew a long breath, feeling herself on the brink of an abyss. If only there was someone to hold out a helping hand. But the only face that came into her mind was Randolph's, and she could no longer trust him.
“Oh well,” she said with a shaky laugh, “I used to think I'd like to be an actress. It can't be that much different.”
Chapter Four
“May I ask if you've made a decision?” Randolph asked when he returned and found her alone.
“I'm nearly there. What have you done with Mike?”
“He's in his own apartments.”
“I want you to take me to him.”
“Wouldn't it be better if-”
“Now, please.”
“Is this the woman who couldn't give orders?” Randolph asked wryly.
She gave him back gaze for gaze. She understood now that this was a man of whom she must beware. He'd charmed her, but underneath he was pursuing his own agenda, and pursuing it all the more ruthlessly because it was driven by his duty.
“I'm just keeping my end up,” she said, defying him with her eyes. “And I need to, otherwise you lot will swamp me. Well, I won't let you swamp me. You thought I was an airhead who'd jump on command. Boy were you ever wrong! This is a tough cookie, and you may end up sorry you tangled with me.”
“Bravo, Dorothea!” he said at once. “With just such an attitude your ancestors led their people through times of crisis. And those who tangled with them ended up sorry.”
“Don't you smooth talk me. It doesn't work. Now let's go and find Mike-if you can remember where you've put him.”
“At Your Royal Highness's command.”
“I've warned you…”
Instead of leading her to the main door Randolph pressed a tiny knob in the carved panel on one wall, and a door clicked open.
“A secret passage,” Dottie breathed, forgetting royal dignity in childish delight.
“Not secret. There are a rabbit warren of these passages linking all the main rooms. It's quicker than going by the public corridors. And, of course, more discreet.”
It seemed to Dottie that he led her up hill and down dale before they reached one door that looked exactly like all the others, and Randolph opened it.