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Randolph knew that this was true, having secured it himself the night before. He'd done the same with the concealed door in Mike's room. He was taking no chances.

He dressed hurriedly and almost ran to the state apartments. Once there he began to be seriously worried. The only possible escape was through the window, which, alarmingly, stood wide open. It was two floors up, and although he told himself that even Dottie wouldn't be crazy enough to escape that way, an inner voice whispered that he had much to learn about her.

He became aware of a flutter among the maids. “What is it now?” he demanded.

“Sir, there's a funny noise coming from the bathroom.”

Randolph strode into the bathroom and listened. From behind one of the huge mirrored doors came the unmistakable sound of soft snoring. He pulled open the door and they all stared down at the sight of the crown princess, naked as the day she was born, fast asleep on the floor.

Dottie opened her eyes and favored everyone with her sunniest smile. Randolph instantly tore off his jacket and arranged it around her, throwing a curt dismissal over his shoulder to the interested crowd.

“Dottie,” he said, controlling himself, “why are you sleeping on the floor in the-in here? I assure you, it isn't the custom.”

“Ouch,” she said, moving her stiff limbs gingerly. “Help me up.” She reached up her hands and he took them, drawing her gently to her feet while trying not to let the jacket become dislodged. It slipped and he only managed to keep it in place by pulling her against him. To his relief everybody had now left.

“Go and put something on,” he commanded in a tight voice. “I'll join you in a minute.”

He needed that time to himself to shut out the vision of her entrancing nakedness. She was daintily made and completely perfect, slender but rounded, with cheeky uptilted breasts that he had to fight to exclude from his mind. It was even harder to ignore the fleeting sensation of her enchanting little body pressed against his own.

Only when he was sure he was in command of himself did he join her. She was dressed in her own clothes, slacks and sweater, and for an appalled moment he had the impression that they'd become transparent. He took a deep breath.

Dottie seemed not to notice anything odd in his manner. She was too delighted over the arrival of her breakfast table.

“Oh lovely! I'm dying for a cup of tea.”

“Perhaps first you will tell me what happened?” He spoke coldly, for he was under a lot of strain. “Is this some old English tradition that Elluria will have to grow used to. Will sleeping on closet floors become the fashion in society?”

“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 valet? Mike? Never mind. Haul him out of the bath. Tell him the love of his life wants to talk to him.”

“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 fiancé, 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 can't be Princess Dottie!”

“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 are looking for someone else, aren't 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 Royal Secrets lying open.

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.