To Kiss a King - NIcole Burnham Page 0,9

American embassy in Cairo, followed by five years working in Kampala, Uganda.” A few murmurs floated through the room, and she added, "Yes, this is quite a change. There are many in this world who face poverty that can be difficult for us to imagine while dining in this beautiful building or while enjoying our daily lives with the benefits of a stable government, one that you have worked for centuries to create and preserve here in San Rimini."

She allowed her gaze to encompass several members of parliament, then turned to look at King Eduardo. His eyes held an unexpected challenge and she had to force herself not to look away. What was it about this man? His title? His reputation? Claire had never in her life been intimidated by anyone. Her mother had been raised in a household with spotty electricity, in an area where the chance to receive a full education was beyond the reach of many families, yet her mother had succeeded in life, and she’d told her children from the day they were born to take advantage of every opportunity presented to them, and to fight hard to pursue their dreams.

Well, this was Claire’s dream.

In a level voice, she said, “Education is the key to all that San Rimini is today. King Eduardo has been a great supporter of equal access to education, as were his predecessors. That support has translated into a high standard of living for all San Riminians.”

She shifted her focus to the larger audience. “Your elected officials have also been enthusiastic supporters of your educational system. You have solid programs that begin with the youngest students, while the University of San Rimini is known around the world for its cutting-edge research and scholarly exploration. The opportunities it offers are a source of pride for many of your citizens. It is my hope that the United States can work hand in hand with San Rimini to make similar opportunities available to those who aren’t as fortunate.”

Claire paused. She itched to say more, even knowing it was a knee-jerk reaction to Sergio Ribisi telling her in no uncertain terms not to push the issue. But as she’d spoken, she’d caught a vibe from the king that made her realize she’d have better luck if she stopped now, having said just enough to make her point, but without saying so much that the audience would suspect there’d already been friction between their monarch and the new American ambassador.

She glanced at her notes, found her closing paragraph on the benefits of international friendship and cooperation, and finished with it. She returned to her seat to a good deal of applause, including King Eduardo’s. However, she could tell from his body language that she’d been right to take her shot at the lectern, because she wouldn’t get another.

And with any luck, tonight’s shot wouldn’t ricochet.

Sergio Ribisi's jaw twitched as he leaned toward Eduardo and pitched his voice so others couldn’t hear. “I spoke with Ambassador Peyton before dinner, Your Highness. I apparently failed to make my point. Ambassador Cartwright would have understood. Next time, I’ll be blunt.”

King Eduardo shook his head. “It’s not a concern, Sergio. The ambassador’s speech was prepared. She may not have been comfortable going off script at the last moment. No harm done.”

He glanced across the room to where Claire Peyton spoke with a group that included his daughter Isabella and his son Marco, as well as several members of parliament and an American telecommunications executive. She appeared confident, but at ease. He had to admire her for sticking to her convictions, even if she wouldn’t get her way in the long run.

While Eduardo had liked Ambassador Cartwright personally, the man hadn’t wanted to make waves as he neared retirement, so his work had centered on uncontroversial issues. He’d relished his posh station and didn't want to risk losing it or being reassigned to a country without a beautiful, historical ambassador’s home like that provided in San Rimini, where he had easy access to theaters, fine dining, and an active social scene.

Somewhere like Uganda.

“The orchestra is preparing to play,” Sergio continued. “I’d like to follow up on something with the transportation minister before the dancing begins and it becomes difficult to speak.”

Eduardo nodded. “I know you’ll brief everyone tomorrow on how the development meeting went, but what was the overall result?”

“We have a challenge ahead of us, but I’m optimistic.”

That was music to Eduardo’s ears. Sergio didn’t express optimism unless it was warranted.