“I thought you would be away for several days,” she said quietly.
“Forgive me for leaving without first informing you,” he responded. “That was improper of me.”
She wanted to cry out, Don't talk to me like that. This is me, Dottie.
But it was too late. There was no going back to the old days: happy days, she understood, now that they were gone.
“Are you coming with me to the cabinet meeting?” she asked.
“If that is what you wish.”
“I can't manage it without you.”
“Then I shall certainly be there. It won't be very terrible. Remember they're more nervous of you than you of them.”
“Impossible.”
“You can dismiss them at will and appoint your own nominee.”
“Yes, that's what the book said. It doesn't sound very democratic.”
“It isn't, but it can be very effective.”
“Then why don't I just appoint you prime minister? That would be fair, wouldn't it?”
It was a mistake. If possible his face closed against her even more firmly, and his voice seemed to come from an arctic cave.
“It would be far from fair to dismiss Jacob Durmand, one of the best prime ministers this country has ever had. Nor do I wish to be the subject of your charity. I trust I make myself clear.”
“Perfectly. Shall we go?”
“Wait one moment,” he said imperiously. “There are things to be said between us first.”
“You're angry about what I said yesterday, but-”
She stopped, for Randolph had held up his hand as if warding her off. He didn't deny that he was angry, she noticed. He merely consigned the subject to the realms of the unimportant-as feelings were, to him, she reminded herself.
“Listen to me,” he said quietly. “And heed what I say, for I have never been more serious in my life. Once you've attended that meeting, you're committed, finally and irrevocably to the people-your people. After today a door will slam shut behind you.”
“Oh no. The door slammed shut yesterday. You must have noticed. You did it.”
“I think it could be opened again. You could return to England, reclaim Mike.”
“How could I ever do that?”
Randolph put his fingers beneath her chin and lifted it. “Remember what you told me once? 'A smile usually does it.' In London I watched you turn the chef into your slave. And Fritz in the kitchens here-he'd lay down and die for you. You have the gift of winning hearts, Dottie. You could win Mike's back. You could win…any man's.” The last words seemed to come from him reluctantly.
She scanned his face in wonder at this strange talk. His expression was gentle, but beyond that she couldn't read.
For a moment the temptation dazzled her. To regain all she'd lost and return to her contented life.
Then reality kicked in and she gave a little sigh. “It's no use. Mike never really loved me. He just thought he did because-” she gave a jerky little laugh, “because I kept telling him. Like he said, I'm a steamroller.”
“A sovereign needs to be a bit of a steamroller. But she also needs the gift of winning hearts, which you have. I'll help you all I can, but you must give me your word that you're totally committed. We can accept nothing less.”
“We?”
“Your subjects,” he said quietly.
“But-”
“That's what we are,” he interrupted her. “Every one of us. We've given you our hearts, and all we ask in return is-everything. Your life, your freedom, your independence, your time. We ask you to think of us day and night, to put us first no matter what your own feelings dictate. In other words, we ask your love.”
“Everything,” she whispered.
“Yes, it's a lot to ask. This is your last chance to escape. After today there's no going back.”
Dottie gave a wry smile. “There never really was, was there?”
“No. There never really was.”
She put her hand in his.
“I think we should go now,” she said. “They're waiting for us.”
Chapter Eight
Two cars left the palace for the parliament building. In the second was Aunt Liz and another lady-in-waiting. The leading vehicle was a black limousine that had been specially constructed for the purpose of transporting a monarch. The entire rear was one huge window made of bulletproof glass, so that the sovereign should be easily visible.
Dottie sat there by herself. Randolph had chosen to sit in the front, beside the chauffeur, and by now she was sufficiently attuned to protocol to understand that this detail was significant. On this important day her people would see her alone.
She couldn't know that Randolph had another reason. He sat apart from her because he needed time to sort out the turmoil of his feelings.
Dottie's harsh judgment of him had briefly been right. He'd left the palace in a mood of bitterness, and headed for his estate, meaning to stay there. Dottie's mistrust, her accusations that he'd acted from base motives, infuriated him, and the look on her face when she'd said “I can't bear to look at you,” had struck him like a blow. He'd put as much distance between them as he could.
But he'd barely arrived at his country house when his more generous self reclaimed him. He'd brought her here, dumped her in the middle of a crisis and then abandoned her. And why? Because his pride was hurt. He, who'd always said that feelings didn't count beside his duty to his country, had done something so cruel.
He'd spent the night pacing the floor, and next day he'd returned to the palace, arriving just in time. He'd searched her face as he entered, for any sign that she was pleased to see him, but her manner had all the regal austerity that he'd tried to teach her. It should have been a triumphant moment.
Now they were entering Wolfenberg, drawing up before the parliament building, an elaborate edifice that looked incongruously like a wedding cake on the outside. But inside it was redolent of history. Tapestries, depicting battles, hung on the walls. Statues of monarchs stood gloomily in niches. Red tiles streamed across the floors.
In a small chamber that led directly to the cabinet room Randolph said to Dottie, “Would you oblige me by waiting here a moment, while I go in first, to make sure everything is in order for you?”
She nodded and he strode into the next room. The ministers were already in place, and they greeted him with relief.
“If you're going to direct proceedings, sir, we'll all be very relieved,” Sternheim announced. He was one of the few who hadn't warmed to Dottie.
“I'm not,” Randolph announced flatly. “And you must put any such thought out of your head.”
There was a universal groan.
“A woman,” Sternheim said. “And a stupid, ignorant foreigner at that.”
“Keep your voice down,” Randolph snapped. “That is exactly the kind of attitude I came to warn you about.”
“Be assured we shall observe all proper respect,” Durmand said soothingly.
“I meant more than that,” Randolph told him. “Let me tell you something about your crown princess. She might be naive but she isn't stupid, especially about people. Don't ever make the mistake of underestimating her, because she'll pounce on any slip you make like a ferret up a drainpipe.”
Sternheim was aghast. “Like a what?”
“Never mind,” Randolph said hastily. He didn't know what had made him say that, except that Dottie's rich language had come back to him suddenly, and it was catching.
Next door Dottie walked up and down, increasingly nervous at the delay. Aunt Liz had opened the door a crack and was shamelessly eavesdropping.
Dottie couldn't bring herself to do the same but “stupid, ignorant foreigner” reached her clearly.
“If he just went in there to stir them up he needn't have bothered,” she muttered.
“Of course not,” Aunt Liz said. “He's trying to ensure that they show you respect.”
“Then he's doing a lousy job. And I'll fight my own battles,” she added illogically.