She was correct. I should not. It wasn’t my place to give Lucille what Roman should; however, being correct somehow felt wrong.
“Your Highness, the crown prince isn’t aware of your presence. He believes he’s being allowed to rest. Of course, as your schedule increases to more public appearances, he will be informed.”
“In other words, if Princess Lucille speaks to him, the real crown prince, he won’t recall their encounter.”
Both of my assistants nodded.
“She needs to be told the truth.”
Lord Martin’s lips came together, forming a straight line.
Standing from the chair, my volume grew. “She must be told.”
“The princess is leaving for Monovia later this evening. There’s an excellent probability that she and the crown prince will not see one another much less speak before she leaves.”
“They’re married,” I said emphatically.
“Yes,” Lady Caroline replied. “As I was saying, their relationship is strained. After five years of marriage, it was assumed—”
Lord Martin cleared his throat, stopping Lady Caroline’s explanation.
My attention turned to him. “If you want me to continue this charade, I must be informed.”
Lord Martin nodded to Lady Caroline.
She took a deep breath. “It was assumed that they would have heirs by now. That weighs heavily on your—the prince’s mind. He has had Princess Lucille examined by many physicians and specialists. They all say she is capable of conceiving.”
“Then it’s him,” I said.
“The physicians say he is capable,” Lord Martin said.
My eyes widened. “I didn’t sign up to impregnate the princess.”
Both of my assistants shook their heads.
“No, Your Highness,” Lord Martin replied. “Of course not. In all reality, your exposure to the princess is meant to be minimal. There may be public outings. In the future, all personal interactions should be avoided.”
“I kissed her,” I confessed.
After looking at one another, their stares were back on me.
Pacing to the large windows overlooking the palace grounds, I stopped and stood. I wasn’t seeing the vibrant colors of the changing leaves or the pristine gardens. I was seeing Lucille’s blue gaze, her cheekbones, and her luscious lips. I was hearing her voice as she endlessly apologized for speaking to the crowd. I’d wanted to tell her that she was marvelous and strong and that her people…our people loved her.
“Your Highness, are you listening to me?” Lord Martin asked.
I turned back to him. “No.”
He nodded. “Very well. I was saying that what is done is done. We will work diligently to avoid any future interaction with the princess. Will you relay to us what was said to Queen Anne?”
I tried to recall. In the grand scheme of the celebration, the conversation with the queen was mundane. “She asked about the tariffs she said I’d imposed on imports.”
“And you said…?” Lord Martin probed.
“I told her not to worry about them, that I had it all handled.”
He nodded. “Very good.”
“She also mentioned Princess Lucille’s” —I took a breath, recalling her wording— “stunt was the word she used.”
“The princess spoke to a crowd outside Annabella Castle,” Lady Caroline explained.
“I saw it on the telly. She was outstanding.”
“You didn’t say that to Queen Anne, did you, sir?” she asked.
“I wanted to. I didn’t appreciate her calling it a stunt.” Both of my listeners were waiting with bated breath. “I told her that I was handling that as well.”
Lord Martin and Lady Caroline exhaled.
“Had I?” Before they could respond, I added, “This isn’t a matter of state. It is something that as Roman Godfrey’s double, I should know.”
“Yes, you handled the situation with the princess,” Lady Caroline said. “In private, but your displeasure was heard by others.”
My stomach twisted. “He shouted?”
They both nodded.
“No wonder she was apologizing,” I said, looking back out the window and wondering how anyone could yell at or berate someone as intuitive as the princess. When I turned back, I continued, “I saw the video posted to Twitter. The people of Molave love Princess Lucille. Her promise was reassuring to them. Why would the prince be angry?” Before they could answer, I voiced my next thought. “Because he’s always angry.”
Lord Martin nodded. “Yes, Your Highness, that is the simple answer.”
“Is that why the Firm hired me, to repair his reputation?” And then another thought hit me. “I was told the Firm consisted of the royal family.” I shook my head. “Queen Anne didn’t know that I wasn’t Roman. Does King Theodore know of me?”
“They will be informed once you have perfected the role.”
“You’re doing splendidly,” Lady Caroline added.
“Is this even legal?”
“It is all being handled by the Firm. With King Theodore’s age and declining health, the crown prince must mend some international relationships or Molave will find itself on the outside of historically friendly alliances.”
I looked from one to the other. “Then work it out with the Firm. If I am to mend alliances, I need more information.” This assignment was more like improv than acting. “I must know what has occurred, what requires fixing, and why. Why did the crown prince place tariffs on imports?”
Lord Martin bowed his head and looked back up. “Your Highness, I will implore the chief minister to speak with you directly. She is the one to authorize the sharing of information.”
“Then bring her to me—today.”
With a slight grin, Lord Martin nodded.
“Your dinner, Your Highness,” Lady Caroline said, “will arrive shortly.” She lifted the padded shirt. “It would be best for you to appear as him.”
“Have that one cleaned. I have another in the bedchamber.”
Walking through the apartment toward the bedchamber, I entertained reservations about the reality that I had accepted this position. With each passing day, I contemplated resigning. These weren’t my problems. I could leave, go back to the US, and resume my life.
What if I did?
What would happen with Molave?
What about Princess Lucille?
Should I care?
The answer was no, I shouldn’t.
I did.
Lucille
I’d forced myself to eat the meal in front of me, each bite more difficult to swallow than the last as the royal family conversed. No one mentioned that Roman seemed odd, nor did they care that he was absent for the meal, especially not with the presence of King Theodore.
I skirted the obligatory questions of my wellness. While Queen Anne was kind, she was asking if I were pregnant. I was most certain that if that were the case, she would be informed before I.
Despite the fact Roman wouldn’t approve, a few sips of wine helped the food go down.
Rothy was quite the character. By the time the cake arrived, the young prince was ready for bed. Princess Isabella convinced him to blow out the candles and smile for the camera. It was a lot to ask of a child, in my opinion. As with any other matter, my opinion was not consulted.