“You might have put him a bit closer to me,” Dottie observed. “But you weren't taking any chances, were you?”
“No,” Randolph said firmly, opening the door. “I wasn't.”
They found Mike confronting a splendid dinner, dressed in a silk robe that seemed to swallow him up. He beamed at the sight of Dottie.
“I was wondering where you were, love. This is grand. Mind you, this place is a bit big for me. I keep getting lost. But we've really fallen on our feet.”
“That's what they want you to think,” Dottie said urgently. “But it's all a huge con trick.” She looked at Randolph, regarding them, took Mike's arm and pulled him into a corner.
“It's not a joke after all. They really think I'm going to be their queen,” she said in a low voice.
“Get away!”
“That's what I said. But they mean it. Mike, what am I going to do?”
“Well, you don't have to do it if you don't want to, do you? Just tell them no. But not yet. Let's have that holiday we were promised. We're living in grand style.” grand. Mind you, this place is a bit big
“But if we stay too long I might be trapped here.”
“Nah, not you Dot! You always get people jumping to do what you say.”
“Keep your voice down,” she muttered, conscious of Randolph's sharp ears. “And it's not true.”
“Yes it is. What about that time-”
“Never mind that,” she said hastily. “All right. Just for a while.”
Randolph approached discreetly. “Why don't we leave Mike to get ready for his night out? Some army officers are eager to entertain him. Good night Mike. Have a pleasant evening.”
Dottie followed Randolph back to her apartment in silence. Once there she asked. “So what happens next?”
“Some refreshment. And a brief meeting with your chief ministers, at which you can receive their loyal greetings.”
“I can't really do that in shorts, can I?” she conceded with a sigh.
“Your Royal Highness is most gracious.”
“Oh no, not you too,” she protested. “There's got to be one person here who doesn't talk to me like I'm the 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.”