In Pursuit Of A Princess. Donna Clayton
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from his. Normally, it wasn’t Etienne’s place to do such menial tasks as seeing to the temperature of the room or arranging for guests’ refreshment. On any ordinary evening, he would have handed the chore over to one of the servants who hovered nearby. However, with complete and utter bewilderment spinning his thoughts into a dozen different directions, this was turning out to be no ordinary evening he’d ever experienced.
He gave quick orders to push open the doors leading to the garden to the first servant he saw, then he scanned the room in search of someone carrying a tray of drinks. He stopped short when he caught sight of his mother looking wan, and he immediately made his way through the crowd toward her.
“Are you feeling all right, Mother?” he asked. “You look done in.”
Her smile was tired. “I think I’ve just had too much fun this evening, is all.”
“Where’s Father? He should see you to your room.” Etienne glanced around him. “Would you like me to escort you?”
“No, no.” Laurette’s brow puckered. “You go back to Princess Ariane. Are you seeing to it that she’s having a good time? Have you asked her to dance?”
The queen’s tone held a mild inflection of accusation and censure. Etienne couldn’t stop the smile that spread across his mouth. “Yes, I’ve asked the princess to dance. So have half a dozen other men. However, so far she hasn’t been so inclined to accept.”
His mother looked utterly scandalized. “She has to dance. With you. What will everyone say? You see to it that you get that young woman out on the dance floor.”
Dutifully, he said, “Yes, Mother.” Then he gave her a small, teasing salute.
“Oh, now,” she said, “stop that. I’m not trying to mother hen you. I just want—”
“I know exactly what you want,” Etienne gently interrupted. “You want Princess Ariane’s visit to go well. And so do I.”
The elderly woman glanced toward the crowd that had gathered around Ariane at the far side of the ballroom. She murmured, “She’s probably upset. If only you had been on time….”
“Mother, trust that I’ll make everything right.”
“You always do, dear.”
Just then, Etienne’s father joined them, reaching up to clap his son on the back.
“That’s one beautiful woman who has come to Rhineland to see you, son,” he told Etienne. “Don’t let her get away.”
Etienne grinned. “I don’t plan to.”
Well, he hadn’t planned to. But after spending a couple of hours in her company, he wasn’t so sure anymore.
“All my top advisors say she’s self-assured, humorous and well-educated—”
From his father’s opinion, Etienne could tell the man hadn’t spent much time this evening in the princess’s company.
“—and that she’s just perfect for you.”
Etienne remained silent, his mind churning with troubling thoughts.
Giraud’s gray eyes softened as they leveled on his wife. “You’ll have to see to things for the remainder of tonight’s festivities, Etienne. I’m going to retire for the evening with my lovely wife. She might be feeling better, but I believe she’s not fully recovered just yet.”
This protective behavior warmed Etienne’s heart. He hoped to someday make a match as loving as the one his parents shared.
That thought had his gaze drifting across the room until it latched onto Princess Ariane. The deep blue silk of her dress hugged the curves and valleys of her luscious figure. The soft light turned her blond hair to glistening honey.
“She’s perfect,” he softly murmured his father’s opinion aloud.
Self-assured, humorous, well-educated. The description haunted Etienne’s mind.
Something wasn’t right here. All the information he’d been given pointed out the fact that things were not adding up. Ariane was all of those things, Etienne was sure. And if he was sure of that, then her behavior had to be some sort of put on.
He sighed. But that just made no sense to him. No sense at all.
However, for some odd reason, it seemed as though the princess wanted the people of his country to think she was naïve and…well, dim-witted. She was putting on a show. And quite a show it was, at that.
But the question was…for whom? And why?
Chapter Two
“As long as capitalism remains what it is,” Rhineland’s prime minister, Arvin Schmidt stated, “then surplus capital will never be utilized for the purpose of raising the standard of living of the masses in any country boasting free enterprise.”
Oh, how Ariane desperately wanted to comment. She’d have loved to tell the man that capitalism was commodity production at the highest stage of development, when labor power itself becomes a commodity, and if it raised the standard of living it could not be capitalism because uneven development and wretched conditions were fundamental states where free enterprise reigned.
Arguing politics was her passion, but she bit her tongue and remained silent. Some of the silliness that had spewed from her mouth tonight had utterly mortified her. It seemed to her that she’d talked to everyone, and every person in the room must think that her brain was made of marshmallow fluff. She didn’t like making herself look stupid, she was quickly learning. But it couldn’t be helped. She needed the government officials to feel safe in expressing their political views in her presence. How else was she to learn who among them were working toward the annexation of her beloved St. Michel?
Just then Prime Minister Schmidt remarked, “There are rules to be followed for every form of government.”
Something in the man’s tone drew her attention as sharply as if she were zeroing in on a bull’s-eye.
“No matter the type of leadership that rules,” he continued smoothly, “laws must be followed. No matter how difficult that might prove for some citizens.”
Was the man sending out a cryptic message? Ariane wondered. Or was he merely trying to impress her with his opinions. Keen interest buzzed through her veins like adrenaline and she allowed it to show on her face with the hope that Schmidt would elaborate a little more. However, before he could, she felt a light touch on her forearm.
“Pardon me, princess.”
She turned to see Etienne, and she stared into his handsome face, realizing for the very first time the startling color of his eyes—pewter-gray. Fringed with dark lashes, the effect was enough to steal her breath away.
Ariane had been so miffed at the man earlier in the evening that she hadn’t been able to control the urge to put him in his place. She had forced herself to ignore him when he’d first arrived, wanting to convey how insulting his tardiness had been to her. She’d focused the whole of her concentration on the two “ministers” she’d been talking to…she nearly grinned now as she thought of the complete genius of that sham. Surely after that silly assessment the prince and the lords thought her to be a total idiot.
But now her anger was gone as she really and truly saw Prince Etienne for the first time this evening.
She fumbled for words. Stumbled over her thoughts. And there wasn’t a single ounce of deception or pretense in her behavior. She simply couldn’t get her tongue and the notions in her head to properly jive. Something strange was taking place…it was as if she’d been a train barreling down a track and suddenly found herself completely derailed.
“May I have this dance?” he asked.
The wheels in her brain turned, but she couldn’t seem to get