If memory served me, I recalled reading that she’d graduated from Columbia University. Lucille wasn’t an accessory to be paraded about. If it took an impostor to give her voice, then so be it. I would be that impostor.
“The hell with tradition,” I murmured as I eyed the rarely used shower.
One more night.
With bourbon coursing through me, I turned on the spray and waited for it to heat.
Tonight, I was Oliver.
Tomorrow, I would take the leap and commit to Molave, the citizens, and their princess.
The next morning after breakfast, Mrs. Drake arrived with buggies filled with boxes.
“Does Molave not understand that all of this” —I pointed— “can be put on a flash drive?”
“No, Your Highness, it can’t. Once you commit to the state, you will bear witness to documents that will never be put on a computer. They are far too sensitive, too classified, and too important to risk that any of this information could end up in the wrong hands.”
Dressed in character, I nodded. “I have a lot to learn, Mrs. Drake.”
“Yes, you do.”
The boxes were taken to the study, a room in the apartment.
“Do you have any guidance on where to start?” I asked as the boxes were unloaded by rather scary-looking men not dressed in royal uniforms.
“First, I need your signature confirming your commitment.”
I looked down at the document. “And what name do I sign?”
“Your Highness, from this moment on, there is only one name that you will sign.”
Gripping the pen, I scrolled Roman Archibald Godfrey. I’d been practicing his penmanship as well.
“Let us begin,” she said.
For the next hour, the chief minister worked with me, starting my education many centuries before I thought necessary.
“You must know the past to understand the present,” she admonished. “I wouldn’t have gathered these documents for you if they weren’t important.”
“Well then, I shall continue.”
The chief minister nodded toward the door. “There will always be a deputy of the ministry with these records. Once your day is complete, the guard will lock the door to your study. In the morning, it will be opened. You may not take even one document out of this room.”
Nodding, I took it all in. “I understand, Mrs. Drake.”
“There is one more thing.”
I looked up from the stacks of papers. “What is it?”
“King Theodore requests an audience with you.”
Lucille
With each passing day, I wondered what became of the impostor. I assumed he’d returned to America. After all, that was what he’d said he would do. It wasn’t as if I could ask. I didn’t know who was privy to his presence. In some strange way, our night and talk helped me. Lady Buckingham even remarked about a change in me.
During the first week of my stay in Molave City, each morning, weather permitting, Isabella and I met out at the pickle ball court. As we played, I realized I was having fun. I wasn’t lamenting about my husband or the lack of his attention. Since our quarrel, the only time we’d been in the same room was for evening dinner with the rest of the family. We played our roles for the observers. In private, we rarely saw one another and when we did, we didn’t speak. I didn’t feel the need to push for his attention.
After an evening with the impostor, it wasn’t Roman’s attention I wanted.
No longer did the role of princess seem like drudgery. I now thought of it as acting, as the impostor had referred to it. Each day and activity were a game I played with myself. The reflection in the mirror was of Molave’s princess. The young woman drinking tea with the queen was who I strove to be. Understanding that it was all make-believe eased the pressure.
Of course, I was careful in the prince’s presence to keep my newfound contentment hidden. I could never explain that for one conversation in the dark of night, soaked to the skin, I had the husband I’d dreamed of. I couldn’t tell anyone that my memories of that night would sustain me.
I wasn’t certain they would—at least not how long they would.
For now, I was content.
While the Duke and Duchess of Wilmington were still in Molave City, after tea, I would go with Isabella to the children. Their sweet laughter reminded me what it was like to live without the veil of pretentiousness. While Isabella tried to instill princely behavior into Prince Rothy, it was quickly forgotten. Princess Alice was too young to understand what would one day be expected of her.
While my electronics were still shielded within Molave Palace, I counted it as a win that I still had them. Until Isabella and her family went back to Forthwith, Isabella was my source of information. Over that first week the unrest calmed. The news made me both happy and sad. I was happy for the citizens and melancholy for myself. Safety would mean that soon I would be sent back to Monovia to Annabella Castle.
Despite the princess and her family leaving, over two weeks after arriving, I was still in the capital, Molave City.
Dressed for dinner, I stood at the window in my parlor, looking out to the front of the palace. The tempered glass shielded me from the people below. The scene was back to normal, much as I recalled it being for most of the five and a half years I’d lived in Molave. Citizens walked by. Tourists took photos. The agitation was gone. I didn’t need Isabella to tell me. I could see it for myself.
Turning to the sound of the opening door, I expected Lady Buckingham. Instead, I was met with my husband’s dark stare.
“Your Highness,” I said with a curtsy.
Roman was dressed for dinner in his customary suit paired with a silver necktie. I found it amusing that I noticed each color of his ties. Coldness rolled off him, much like the chill from a frozen tundra. With no emotion in his expression, he announced, “I spoke with Papa.”
I nodded my understanding. Roman didn’t need to say more. “I will be going back to Monovia.”
“Tonight,” he said, coming closer.
Tonight?
My chin fell. That was so soon.
My breathing hitched as Roman reached for my chin, lifting my gaze to his. “Something is different about you.” His touch disappeared.
“No, Your Highness. I am the same.”
“Lady Buckingham tells me you’ve been eating better.”
“Why would she report to you?”
“I inquired.”
“While the duke and duchess were here, I enjoyed spending time with Isabella, Rothy, and Alice.”
Taking a deep breath, Roman turned toward the window. “Mum told me that you want to travel to the States.” He turned back to me. “Why wouldn’t I hear that directly from you?”
Because we don’t speak.
An apology was on the tip of my tongue when I recalled the impostor’s question. Instead of apologizing, I stood tall with my shoulders back. “I have daily afternoon tea with the queen. You and I don’t speak.”
Roman’s neck straightened as he clasped his hands behind his back. “My suite is across the parlor, mere meters away. If you want to speak, come speak.”
I blinked, wondering if by chance this wasn’t my husband. “Your Highness?”