Royal Blood - By Rhys Bowen Page 0,90

to come to the castle in the first place. Stupid of me. Stupid, stupid, stupid. We could have been at the palace in Bucharest, going to theaters and enjoying ourselves.”

She broke off as her father, the king, rose to his feet. Dragomir rapped on the table with his gavel. “Pray silence for His Majesty King Michael.”

The king proceeded to welcome all his guests, especially the bridegroom and his parents, and raised his glass in a toast to friendship between the two nations forever. We drank—those of us who were in the know a little tentatively, our eyes watching everyone else. Nobody keeled over, however, and the king went on.

“As we share in the joy of our daughter’s nuptials, I am delighted to announce that there will soon be a second celebration to follow this one. My son has informed me that he too will take a bride.” Murmurs of approval from around the table. “And we shall be most delighted to welcome another descendant of our esteemed Queen Victoria into the family. Her father was my good friend, and I look forward to having her as my daughter.”

I had been looking up and down the table to see who he was talking about.

He picked up his glass. “So I ask us all to be upstanding and raise our glasses in a toast to my son, Siegfried, and his bride-to-be, Lady Georgiana.”

Everyone was on their feet. I felt as if I were falling down a deep well shaft. I wanted to scream “No-o-o-o!” but everyone was smiling and raising their glasses to me.

“You sly one. You didn’t tell me.” Matty embraced me and kissed me on both cheeks. “I can’t say I’d want Siegfried, but I’m so glad you’re going to be my sister.”

What could I do? I had been brought up with etiquette rammed down my throat. A lady would never make a fuss at a banquet. A lady would never contradict a king. But this lady would never marry Prince Siegfried in a million years. Siegfried was raising his glass to me, pursing his cod lips in a kiss. Oh, God—please don’t say I’ve got to kiss him. The company sat down again. I hastened to sit before any kiss might be required. I hadn’t realized that the steward had pulled my chair out for me. One second I was standing, glass in hand; the next I was sitting on nothing and had disappeared under the table with a startled cry. Of course then all heads turned back to me again. I was hastily rescued from my undignified position, my face burning with embarrassment, and placed in my chair. Everyone around made a fuss of me, hoping that I wasn’t injured and pressing glasses of champagne at me. I heard murmurs of “Too much champagne going to her head” and “Attack of nerves, poor little thing.”

Believe me, if I could have crawled under the table and escaped at that moment, I would have done so. But there were too many legs around. I was profoundly grateful when the next course was brought in—a Hungarian delicacy of flaming meats on a sword. It was applauded with oohs and aahs. I watched it as if I were looking at a film of someone else’s life. This couldn’t really be happening to me. When had I ever given Siegfried any indication that I might marry him? I felt a cold sweat creeping over me. I had actually come close to flirting with him last night. I had begged him to dance with me to keep him from paying a visit to Field Marshal Pirin’s room. And he’d taken that as a sign that I’d changed my mind. And this evening he had asked me something that I hadn’t quite heard and I’d nodded and smiled. Oh, golly—had he asked me if I’d changed my mind then? I thought he was only talking about the food or the weather. Doomed, that’s what I was. The words “producing an heir” echoed around my head. Followed by Belinda’s laughing suggestion that I lie back, close my eyes and think of England.

That was never going to happen, if I had to throw myself off one of the turrets first. Well, maybe not quite as dramatic as that. Run away to Argentina, disguised as a peasant, perhaps, or even go and live with Granddad in Essex. I wasn’t going to marry Siegfried, but I’d have to find a way out without anyone losing face. Maybe I could

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