Leopold: Part Five (5 page)

Served
. It’s still difficult for me to believe that Matthias and Stephan—and probably countless others working in the palace—have given up their lives in devotion to Leo’s family. I guess I have nothing to compare it to—people don’t do that where I come from. I feel devoted to serving children—to helping keep them healthy—but certainly not to one
job
. I guess I can’t imagine committing my life to only working in one place. I can’t relate, no matter what I do to try to see things from his perspective.

“It goes without saying that
this
…” He makes a sweeping motion with his arm. “
This
is not how things are done here. Regardless of what His Highness, Prince Leopold may desire.”

I stare at him, expressionless.
What the hell am I supposed to say to that?

He stares back at me in silence for a long moment. “We don’t tolerate your kind here.”

“My
kind
?” I blink a few times for effect. “What exactly do you mean by
my kind
?”

He narrows his gaze and folds his arms over his square chest. “I believe you know exactly what I mean.”

I nod, but not because I agree. Leo should be here—to stop me from killing this man at the very least. I can feel my heart starting to thud in my chest, my stomach tightening. I’m going to unleash on this poor bastard, and he’s not going to know what hit him.

But I’m only barely able to open my mouth before he continues. “I’ll not stand for it. You’ll retrieve your things now and you’ll be gone before His Highness returns from dinner. And you’ll not return to Montovia again for as long as you live.”

I press my lips into a line and lift a brow. I stare at him for another moment, trying to contain my rage before I allow myself to speak. “Look…” I suppress the urge to use the word
asshole
. “Leo, Andrew, and their father all came to an agreement. I guess you might not be privy to the details just yet, but—”

“I’ve heard every detail of the arrangement His Royal Majesty has made with Prince Leopold. That is not why I am here this evening.”

I nod. “I see. Well, then I suppose you should take that up with Leo and leave me the fuck alone.”

His eyes widen at my use of the word
fuck
. “Your language alone makes you entirely unsuitable to even
enter
the palace, let alone
sleep
here. I’ll not have anyone here who—”

“But it isn’t really your choice, is it? I mean, you might
think
you run this palace—”

“Miss, I
do
run this palace.”

I glare at him again. “
Doctor.
You may call me
Doctor
. I worked pretty goddamned hard to get through medical school, and I fucking well
earned
that title.” My heart pounds again—mostly because I hate doing that. I never make
anyone
call me Doctor, and I’ve always sort of hated people who insist on hiding behind their title. But it seems my medical degree is the only thing I have to hold up as some sort of evidence that I’m worth anything at the moment—because Stephan certainly doesn’t seem to think I’m even worth the time he’s taken to come here.

The sneer he gives me does nothing to make me think otherwise. “The only titles that matter in Montovia are those of the Royal Family.” He glares at me again. “Considering you’re little more than a courtesan, you’re very lucky I haven’t had you arrested and thrown into the local jail.”

The little fucker just called me a whore
. And my mind begins to race, the same old song playing through my head again.
Undeserving
.
Unlovable.

Worthless
.

My stomach drops to my toes. He’s right. I mean, maybe he isn’t right, but it doesn’t matter. I definitely don’t deserve to be here. There’s nothing even remotely redeeming about me. There’s no way Leo is going to be able to turn me into some quasi-princess, fit to accompany him or anyone else to some fancy thing where he can rehabilitate his reputation. The only thing I’m going to do is drag him down.

“You’ll collect your things at once. A driver will be waiting at the servant’s entrance in one hour. I’ll not have you seen at one of the family’s entrances…”

I nod, but I’m not even listening to him. I’m already planning my next move.

Leaving Leo. Again.

And this time, it will be for good.

I
t’s torture leaving Elle
, now that we’ve finally come together again and knowing she wants me to return to her tonight.

If it were any other commitment pulling me away, I’d have no qualms about breaking it and spending the rest of the evening with Elle in my arms. But it’s for her sake that I need to do this. I won’t put a foot out of line while I’m under this roof—except for visiting her room tonight, of course. I don’t think I could stay away from her if my very life depended on it.

I slip back to my suite to prepare for supper. After a quick—and very cold—shower, I slip into a suit with the royal shield and scepter embroidered in gold thread on the pocket. Supper with my father is always a formal occasion—an old tradition he should have dispensed with long ago. Sometimes I think my father still believes this to be the nineteenth century—while he has the latest technology at his fingertips, he rarely handles any of it himself. It’s a small miracle that Andrew convinced him to upgrade from horses to cars and solar-powered carts. I wonder if perhaps my father believes that formal, outdated traditions are the only thing separating our family from the masses.

I’ll have to give Elle a few lessons in Montovian table etiquette
, I think as I pull on my gloves.
She’ll be eating with us soon enough—if I have anything to say about it, at least—and it’s important that she impresses my father.
I might love her passion and the way she isn’t afraid to speak her mind, but my father is a different story. Until our three months are up, she and I need to do everything in our power to win his approval.
Even if it kills us.

I continue this train of thought as I head out of my suite and down the corridor. Besides table manners, Elle will probably need to learn some general etiquette—and dancing, of course—to prepare for the state dinner. I should also probably give her a few lessons in the history of Montovia and a general overview of our customs and culture, as well as the role my family plays in governing our small but great nation. It will be a daunting task, I suspect—three months isn’t so very long when I think of what she’ll have to learn—but I find I’m excited by the prospect of showing Elle more of my life.

Now if only I can get the rest of my family to behave.

Fortunately, when I reach the eastern dining room—the smallest of the six dining rooms in the palace and the one we use for private family dining—my father has yet to arrive. My mother, however, is already seated at the table. She rises with a smile as soon as she sees me.

“Leopold,” she says, extending her arms toward me.

If my father were here, I’d merely kiss her hand, but since he isn’t, I let her pull me into a hug. The lace on her gown rustles as she pulls me close. She’s nearly my height—the international media loves to call her
statuesque
—and she plants a kiss on my cheek before pulling away.

“I was wondering if you’d ever return to us,” she says with a smile.

I grin. “I was only gone for a few nights.”

“Yes, well, I know how you get about women sometimes,” she says, her dark blue eyes shining. “And it’s clear this one is particularly important. I half expected to hear you’d lost your head and run off to Bora Bora or something.”

“Lost my head?” I say with a laugh. “What did you think would happen between Elle and me?”

“Truly, I couldn’t tell you,” she says. “I’ve never seen you like this before.”

Unlike my father, my mother actually seems excited—or at least curious—about this development. She places a gloved hand on my cheek.

“I’m looking forward to meeting this woman,” she says. “She is here, isn’t she?”

“Yes,” I say. “Though I didn’t think it would be appropriate to bring her to supper.”

Her smile drops. “I suppose you’ve spoken with your father?”

“However did you guess?” I take her hand in mine. “Don’t fret, Mother. We’ve come to an arrangement.”

She raises a silver eyebrow. “Dare I ask?”

“It was actually my idea,” comes Andrew’s voice from the door.

I straighten and turn. My brother strides into the room and takes our mother’s hand. He brushes a kiss against her gloved fingers. “Good evening, Mother.”

“Andrew.” She smiles. “So tell me about this
arrangement
of yours.”

But before either my brother or I can answer, my father appears at the door with Stephan at his heels. His eyes are hard as he looks us over.

“Let’s not spoil our supper with such discussions,” he says. He glances around the room. “Where is Sophia? Is she late again?”

“It’s still five minutes to seven, darling,” my mother says, moving toward him. “She’ll be here.”

“She had better,” my father says. “Her behavior recently has been unacceptable.”

What has my sister been getting into?
I think. I glance over at Andrew, but his expression gives nothing away. Part of me is a bit relieved I’m not the only one causing trouble around here—better to not be the sole object of our father’s disdain—but the other part of me worries for our youngest sibling. Sophia has always been a bit of a wild spirit, but she’s been a lot more rebellious recently—or at least
distracted.
She hasn’t quite resorted to running off to other countries the way I have.

My mother is doing her best to calm my father. She runs her hands across the shoulders of his embroidered jacket and looks up at him with the expression she gives him when she’s not particularly pleased with his behavior.

“Why don’t we sit down?” she says calmly. “I’m sure Sophia will be here very soon.”

Andrew and I take our cue and go to our seats, and after a moment our father lets out a sigh and seats himself as well. He and our mother sit at opposite heads of the table, while we children have places in between. Neither of our other brothers are here—William is fulfilling his service with the Royal Military, while Nicholas won’t finish his university courses for another few months—so their seats will remain empty tonight. Frankly, I can’t remember the last time the entire family dined together. The older we get, the more our lives stray in different directions.

I glance down the table at our father. Perhaps that’s why he’s clinging so desperately to traditions and these outdated ideas about
serving the family—
but that’s still no excuse for the way he treated Elle.

Three months
, I remind myself.
Three months of good behavior. Three months to prove ourselves to him.
Sure, Elle isn’t a member of the European nobility, but that’s hardly important in my case—Andrew is the one who must carefully consider his companion, since he’s the one responsible for the next heir. I have no such responsibility.

And I pity the woman who ends up with my brother.
The poor girl will have to spend the rest of her life dealing with a stodgy bore who’s afraid to break the rules or have any fun. Though I suppose I can’t blame the fellow—look at what happened that one night in Prague when I convinced him to let loose. If anything, that night probably convinced him to never set a foot out of line ever again.

The family sits in silence as the minutes tick by. Sophia still has yet to arrive, and while my mother seems unconcerned by this, the wrinkle between my father’s brows grows deeper with every passing moment. Finally, my mother waves over our dining attendant and asks him to begin pouring our wine.

“Where is she?” my father grumbles. “She knows the rules in this household.”

“Honestly, darling, she’s only a few minutes late,” says my mother. “Let’s not let it ruin our supper. I asked the chef to prepare braised rabbit for us. I know that’s your favorite.”

How she can be so patient with our father is beyond me. But I see no judgment or annoyance in her eyes as she looks down the table at my father—only understanding.

Perhaps there’s hope for dear old Andrew after all
, I think. If my
father
can find a woman who loves him, then maybe my brother can as well. Me? I want to make the woman I love laugh and smile, not force her to fight her way through layers of sourness and anger. There’s nothing in this world more valuable to me than one of Elle’s smiles.

God, I wish I were back in her room.
I want her in my arms again. I want to hold her close and think only of the joy we can bring each other. Instead, I’m stuck at supper with the most dysfunctional of families.

As soon as my glass of wine is filled, I grab it and take a swig. I’m going to need a lot of alcohol to make it through this meal.

At seven fifteen—after another eleven minutes of uncomfortable silence—my mother calls for the food. Sophia still hasn’t arrived, and my father’s lips are a hard line as his plate is laid in front of him.

Maybe it would be better not to bring Elle to these meals after all
, I think.
I can’t imagine forcing her to sit through this torture.
She’ll still need to practice her table etiquette before the state dinner, of course, but there are other ways to do that—other
private
ways, which sound infinitely more enjoyable.

The food serves as a welcome distraction, at least. While we’re eating, it’s easier to pretend we aren’t sitting awkwardly beneath the thundercloud of my father’s anger. Normally I would attempt to break the silence with a joke or funny anecdote, but I sense that both of those would be unwelcome at present.

I glance back at my mother. She seems relaxed, as if she’s perfectly at ease with the situation at hand. Perhaps she knows something I don’t. Or perhaps she has fully accepted this farce for what it is. After a moment, she seems to sense me watching her. She glances up from her plate and smiles at me.

There’s one person in this palace on my side, at least. Two if I count Matthias.
I haven’t had a chance to explain to my valet yet that Elle and I intend to stay here for the time being. I expect he’ll be pleased to spend more time here at home. And he’ll have a lot to organize for me over the coming weeks.

I’m planning everything in my head when the door swings open again.

Sophia is there, looking not the least bit ashamed of the fact that she’s arrived nearly forty-five minutes after the official start of supper. She’s dressed appropriately for the occasion, but it’s clear she readied herself in a rush—in fact, she’s still pulling on one of her gloves as she comes into the room.

“Good evening,” she says cheerfully, making a quick curtsy.

I fight back a grin as she comes over to the table. Our father, on the other hand, has gone a bit red about the ears.

“And where exactly have you been?” he demands.

“I was down in the city,” she says lightly, “and I lost track of time. I didn’t realize how late it was until the clock tower chimed, and then I still had to rush back here and change. Forgive me, Father. It won’t happen again.” She doesn’t sound the least bit apologetic.

Our father doesn’t look even slightly impressed by her story. “You’ve been late three times in the last two weeks. That is completely unacceptable.”

“Come now, darling,” my mother says. “Let’s just all enjoy our meal together.”

My father ignores her. Instead, he addresses Sophia. “What were you doing in the city?”

“I told you I’ve been working at the Montovia City School,” she says. There’s more to it than that, I know—there always is with Sophia—but she just innocently picks up her fork.

“That’s not an excuse for your tardiness,” our father says to her. “And that’s certainly not an excuse for
repeated
transgressions. You are the Princess of Montovia, and you will show your family the proper respect. That means being on time for supper.”

She pokes at her rabbit with her fork. “I assure you, Father, it won’t happen again.”

“You will look at me when we are having a discussion,” our father growls. He’s spent so much of this meal stewing over her absence that he seems to have little patience for her now. “In fact, I think I’m disinclined to let you spend the rest of the meal with us. Next time you are late, don’t bother joining us for supper at all.”

“Darling,” our mother says, “that’s a little harsh.”

“It’s all right, Mother,” Sophia says, rising. “I don’t think I’m inclined to be here myself.”

My mother reaches out to her, but Sophia pulls away.

“I’m fine,” she says lightly. “I swear, Mother. I’ll have them send something to my suite.” She glances across the table at me. “Good to see you home again so quickly this time, Leo.”

I’m beginning to wonder why I bothered coming back
, I think as Sophia curtsies to us in farewell. A moment later, she’s retreated, gone as quickly as she appeared.

The second the door has closed, my mother turns a stern eye on my father.

“That was unnecessary, Edmund,” she says.

“It was entirely necessary. That girl needs to learn some manners.”

“There are other ways to teach them,” my mother says. “There’s no reason we shouldn’t all have dinner together.”

“That
was
a little harsh,” Andrew says, speaking for the first time since we sat down. “Perhaps there is a better way—”

“If you’re so interested in keeping this family in line, then perhaps you should do it,” my father says, standing. “Perhaps you should rule this whole damn country, since you seem to know better than your own father how to do it.”

Andrew stiffens. “That’s not what I meant—”

“Then I trust you’ll keep your mouth shut next time.” He glares down the table. “If you’ll excuse me, I don’t have much of an appetite anymore.” He doesn’t wait for a response. Instead, he turns and marches out of the room.

“Edmund,” my mother calls after him, rising to her feet. When he doesn’t turn back, she goes after him.

Hell, this visit is off to a bloody great start
, I think as I drop my fork on the table. To think I had to tear myself away from Elle to come here for this.

Beside me, Andrew is frowning. He rubs his forehead.

“You did this, you know,” he says quietly. “He’s been in a sour mood since you took off three days ago.”

“Oh, no,” I say, leaning back in my chair. “You don’t get to blame me for this. It’s all on him. Because he can’t get his head out of his own ass long enough to see we’re people with lives and wants and needs outside this family and this country.”