A Prince Among Men

A PROUD BEAUTY

Society decrees that Lady Ophelia Brinsby, a duke's daughter, must marry a man of rank. But sharp-witted Ophelia finds her eligible suitors duller than yesterday's gossip. To relieve her boredom, Ophelia escapes her grand house daily for secret visits with her lively artistic friends. When her father hires a new groom to insure the strict propriety of her morning rides, Ophelia must win a battle of wits with the one bold and charming man who stirs her—mind, body, and heart.

A HUMBLE PRINCE

Duty requires Prince Alexander to sacrifice every comfort and every ordinary desire for his country's freedom. He sells his manor house, his fine horses, and even his coats and takes a position as a lowly groom in a duke's London stable. However, when he meets the hard headed Lady Opheila, whose dark eyes and indomitable spirit stir his lonely soul, he discovers that a man's country expects too much when it asks him to sacrifice love.

She took a servant when she took a lord, a lord in marriage, a servant in love.

Chaucer

Prologue

1796

W
ith Napoleon'
s defeat of the Piedmontese
and Austrians, King Lorenzo di Piovasco Miranaola of Trevigna thought it prudent to assess the strength of his tiny kingdom. What he saw sobered him. Everywhere the arts of war had been neglected. Peace, which Lorenzo had striven to preserve, had made the nobles prodigal and the bandits voracious, and divided the cities into factions. His mild rule appeared a failure, but he wasted no time in self-reproach. Though the power of France might crush Trevigna as easily as the press crushed the olive harvest, he boldly began a campaign to restore the vigor of Trevigna's institutions. He made only one concession to prudence, which was to send his ten-year-old son and heir to England to be educated in safety, far from the reach of Bonaparte.

A
lexander and Lucca were to be punished. All the boys said so, but the arrival of Donna Francesca made their punishment a certainty. They sat on a hard bench in the dim cloister opposite a gothic door. The heavy door, darkened with age and crossed with antique iron bands, suggested the entrance to a castle dungeon rather than the office of the headmaster of a modern English school for young men of birth and fortune. Yet if their classmates were to be believed, behind that
door lay
i
nd
ignities worthy of the Inquisition.

The October morning wa
s
frosty, and the fresh scrubbed faces of the two boys smarted. Their collars, damp from
contact with still-wet slicked-
down hair, sent involuntary shivers down their spines.

The taller of the two boys, a lad with huge dark eyes and the nose of a Roman senator, betrayed a certain miserable anxiety by scuffing the toes of his shoes across the stone floor, until his companion spoke.

"
Hush, Lucca, I can't hear a word if you scrape the floor that way."

Lucca immediately stilled, giving a heavy sigh, his breath a fleecy puff in the frigid air.

The shorter of the two boys, Alexander, whose fair looks suggested Eros outgrowing babyhood, leaned forward on the bench, listening intently, his cherub's mouth pursed, his remarkable blue eyes fixed on the door. Though the heavy door muted the voices on the other side, Alexander recognized the value of this rare opportunity to hear what the adults were saying. He realized now, as he had not a few months earlier, that these solemn conversations affected his future directly.

At the moment, he could think of two punishments he most wished to avoid—being sent away from school, and being separated from Lucca. A flogging was nothing. He'd had one or two already and discovered he could bear them very well if he concentrated on some future pleasure, like the promise of a good horse to ride at Christmas.

He inched forward on the bench. While he judged it wise to listen closely, it was beneath his dignity to cross the corridor and press his ear to the door. There were four voices on the other side, all fairly easy to distinguish. The first was the headmaster's, with a smooth, placating cadence to it that he never used when addressing the boys. The second voice, Aunt Francesca's, embarrassingly loud and shrill, could be heard clearly. The other two were Mr. Keane's and Mr. Nevil's.

"Have you dared to lay hands upon the Prince of Trevigna?" Aunt Francesca asked.

"Regrettably, we are facing that step," the headmaster answered. "Unless his majesty can be prevailed upon, perhaps through your influence, to moderate his behavior. Here the masters must govern. The nature of boys, royal birth not withstanding, is such that we must be permitted to apply the necessary discipline for unruly behavior."

"To lay hands on a prince who will one day rule a kingdom older than England is an unpardonable offense."

Alexander could see Aunt Francesca saying this. She was as tall as the mast of his first boat,
and she could give a fellow the
malocchio,
the evil eye.

"I regret to inform you, Donna Francesca, that his majesty has had some difficulty adjusting to the rules of school life."

"The Prince of Trevigna does not misbehave."

"Mr. Keane," said the headmaster. "Your report."

A high, thin voice spoke. "I'm sorry to say, madame, but his majesty made faces at the food and comments in Italian for the benefit of his servant. There was no mistaking his disparagement of our very healthful and substantial fare. Furthermore, his remarks precipitated an unseemly display among the third formers. Throwing peas."

Alexander heard Aunt Francesca snort, like a horse smelling bad hay.

"Mr. Nevil, your report," said the headmaster.

Mr. Nevil's booming voice made Lucca start and look up. Alexander put his finger to his lips. "In the classroom his majesty looks down
his…
grand nose at his masters. In the midst of the Greek lesson, he rent his gown in a fit of temper over a correction, an absolute breach of necessary authority."

There was a silence behind the door, and Alexander guessed Aunt Francesca was unimpressed.

The headmaster's voice came again. "These acts of rebellion might have been overlooked, had his majesty not engaged in a brawl with his classmates."

"A brawl?" Aunt Francesca's voice was slow and gathering power like a wave about to pound
the shore. "The Prince of Trevigna does not brawl like
some wharf rat. He is a sweet-
tempered, biddable young man, conscious of his duty to his station."

"Madame, are we speaking of the same child? Perhaps his new surroundings have brought out hitherto hidden aspects of his character."

"Impossible."

"I assure you, Donna Francesca, that his majesty has bloodied the noses and blackened the eyes of several boys, and even threatened the servants. With his size and strength, he could seriously injure someone."

"His size and strength?" Aunt Francesca's tone had changed to one of surprised suspicion. Alexander's grip on the edge of the bench tightened.

"Madame, he is a full head above his classmates."

Aunt Francesca spoke briefly and pungently in Italian. Lucca's eyes widened appreciatively as she called the headmaster an ass with shoes and a coat.

"Are you blockheads not able to see the difference between a prince and a serving boy?"

By straining, Ale
xander could hear the faint re
ply.

"Madame must explain."

"You idiots have mistaken Lucca Gavinana, the son of a sailmaker from Laruggia for Alexander di Piovasco Mirandola, a prince with
a six-
hundred-year-old name."

Alexander could not help the slight slump in his shoulders. Aunt Francesca's announcement put an end to his disguise. It had been a lark
while it had lasted, his time as an ordinar
y boy. He tried to picture the
faces of his
masters. He knew Mr. Nevil must
be looking particularly green, as he was the one, who had flogge
d Alexander for the episode in
the Greek class.

"An understandable confusion." The smooth voice of the headmaster came again. "Master Lucca is the taller of the two and of a proud demeanor. It was he, of course, who seemed to have more difficulty adjusting to the discipline of school life, so naturally we assumed—"

"Surely you noted the difference in their work, their English."

Mr. Keane entered the conversation again. "If madame will examine the two copy books, she will see that both boys perform extraordinarily well."

There was a little pause during which Alexander held his breath.

Then Aunt Francesca's voice came again, distinctly. "I recommend that you gentlemen examine the books carefully yourselves. Any fool can see that they are written by the same hand, Alexander's hand."

There was a silence of an awkward duration.

"Are you in the habit of mistaking fireflies for lanterns? You cannot tell the difference between a serving boy and a prince of the blood?"

"With all due respect, madame, it is your brother's opinion we must consider. He has entrusted the boy to us. Now that we know the true prince, we require only that you remove Master Gavinana, and we will proceed with our business, which we know very well, instructing the minds of the future leaders of society."

"Remove Gavinana?"

"If he is not to be a pupil, he may not remain. We practice equality. The only deference here is due not to rank, but to learning. All our students are scholars under the guidance of masters. To have a boy among the others with a personal attendant is against the principles of the school."

"But the prince must have Gavinana. He must speak his language daily, the tongue of Petrarch, Boccaccio, Dante. And he must govern at least one subject to remind him that he is a prince and will one day be king."

"Madame, these are our rules. If your brother is not satisfied with this form of education for the prince, he is free to take the boy elsewhere."

Alexander stiffened, instantly alert, drawing Lucca's glance. The discussion from behind the door was beyond Lucca's minimal comprehension of English. He knew only that they had caused trouble for the adults of the school. Lucca, Alexander thought, was lucky not to be aware of this most dreadful possibility.

Alexander prayed his aunt would not let her pride speak. He did not know which he feared more, being separated from Lucca, or being cast out of the school. He held his breath. It would be like her, to turn on her heel and tell these paltry Englishmen that the Mirandola did not need their school.

The silence this time was awful, and when it ended, Alexander was sweating.

Then Francesca spoke in her more feminine voice. "Well, gentlemen, you must keep Master Gavinana enrolled. You have no objection to two purses from my brother, I trust?"

Alexander grinned at his friend. Thus, unfort
unately, both boys were smiling
broadly when the heavy door swung open and Aunt Francesc
a's tall form appeared. Her stern
eye fell first on Lucca, with the swift intensity of an eagle's swoop. Lucca froze.

"You impudent, ungrateful dolt," she said in blistering Italian. "Nothing is worse than a foolish servant. Your pride has brought this embarrassment to the prince. It is your duty, your privilege, to serve him in all things. You will be respectful to the masters and students, take any punishment intended for the prince, and study until your brains turn to mush in your thick noggin."

Francesca turned to Alexander. He was shaking with relief, but he kept everything inside. "And you, sir, do not deceive me. You speak English perfectly well, and yet you did not correct the misapprehension of your masters."

Alexander refused to hang his head. He was guilty, and he must take whatever punishment Aunt Francesca meted out.

"Never forget," she went on, "your station or your dignity. Your father depends on you. He sends this book to remind you." She thrust a small leather
volume at him. "You are Miran
dola, the shepherd of the people, bred to rule, to put Trevigna ahead of all else, to serve her in every action of your life. The petty concerns of schoolboys are not for you. When Trevigna calls, you go, consenting, even to death. Remember."

She made him a curt bow, as a man would, and strode off down the hall, the stone echoing
with her sharp footsteps. There was no embrace, no touch.

Alexander stood stock still, clutching the book from his father, not daring to look at Lucca until she was truly gone.

At the other end of the hall, she paused, glancing back over her shoulder.
"
If your marks are high enough, Alexander, there will be a horse to ride at Christmas," she said in English.

The door at the end of the hall closed behind her, and Alexander grinned. Whatever the masters did to them, he had it all now—school, and his friend, and the promise of a horse.