was holding out her seat and Rose was sitting, which hid her legs. Which was almost a national tragedy, Nick decided. What was she about, disguising those legs in dungarees? He surveyed her with unabashed pleasure as Walter fussed about them, taking orders, offering champagne. ‘Yes, please,’ Rose said, and beamed. When the champagne arrived she put her nose right into the bubbles and closed her eyes, as if it was her first drink for a very long time.
‘You like champagne, then?’ Nick said, fascinated, and she sighed a blissful smile.
‘You have no idea. And it’s not even sherry.’ She had a couple more sips, then laid her glass back on the table with obvious reluctance.
‘We’re very pleased you were able to come,’ Erhard said gently, and looked at Nick. ‘Aren’t we, Nick?’
‘Yes,’ said Nick, feeling winded.
‘I’m sorry it took a while to contact me,’ Rose told them, glancing round the restaurant with real appreciation. ‘My family has an odd notion that I need protection.’
‘You don’t?’ Nick asked.
‘No,’ she said, and took another almost defiant sip of champagne. ‘Absolutely not. This is lovely.’
It was, Nick thought. She was.
‘Maybe it’d be best if I outline the situation,’ Erhard said, smiling faintly at Nick as if guessing his degree of confoundment. ‘Rose, I’m not sure how much you know.’
‘Not much at all,’ she admitted. ‘Only what you told me in the letter. The whole village seems to have been playing keepings off, from telling you I was away when you called, to refusing to pass on phone messages. If Ben at the post office hadn’t been a man of integrity I might never have heard from you at all.’
‘Why would they be worried about Erhard?’ Nick asked, puzzled.
‘My in-laws know I’m the daughter of minor royalty,’ she said. ‘My husband used to delight in it. But since he’s died anything that might take me away from the village has been regarded with suspicion. I gather Erhard came, looked dignified and spoke with an accent. That’d be enough to make them worry. My in-laws have a lot of influence, and they don’t like strangers. I’m sorry.’
‘It’s not your fault,’ Erhard said gently. He hesitated. ‘At least you’re here now, which means that you may be prepared to listen. It might sound preposterous…’
‘You don’t know what preposterous is,’ she said enigmatically. ‘Try me.’
Erhard nodded. It seemed he was prepared to do the talking, which left Nick free to, well, just look.
‘I’m not sure how much you know already,’ Erhard said. ‘I’ve talked the situation through with Nick this week, and I did outline this in the letter, but maybe I need to start at the beginning.’
‘Go ahead,’ Rose said, sipping some more champagne and smiling. It was an amazing smile. Stunning.
Nick was stunned.
Erhard cast him an amused glance. He was an astute man, was Erhard. The more Nick knew him, the more he respected him. Maybe he should look away from Rose. Maybe what he was thinking was showing in his face.
What the heck? Not to look would be criminal.
‘I’m not sure if you know the history of Alp de Montez,’ Erhard was saying, smiling between the pair of them. ‘Let me give you a thumb sketch. Back in the sixteenth century, a king had five sons. The boys grew up warring, and the old king thought he’d pre-empt trouble. He carved four countries from his border, and told his younger sons that the cost of their own principality was lifelong allegiance to their oldest brother.
‘But granting whole countries to warlike men is hardly a guarantee of wise rule. The princes and their descendants brought four wonderful countries to the brink of ruin.’
‘But two are recovering,’ Nick said, and Erhard nodded.
‘Yes. Two are moving towards democracy, albeit with their sovereigns still in place. Of the remaining two, Alp de Montez seems the worst off. The old Prince—your mutual grandfather—left control more and more in the hands of the tiny council running the place. The chief of council is Jacques St. Ives, and he’s had almost complete control for years. But the situation is dire. Taxes are through the roof. The country’s on the brink of bankruptcy, and people are leaving in the thousands.’
‘Where do you come into this?’ Nick asked curiously. He knew much of this, and not all of it was second hand. Several years ago, curious about the country where his mother had been raised, he’d spent a week touring the place. What he’d seen had horrified him.
‘I’ve been an aide to the old Prince for many years,’ Erhard said sadly. ‘As he lost his health, I watched the power shift to Jacques. And then there were the deaths,’
‘Deaths?’ Rose asked.
‘There have been many,’ Erhard told her. ‘The old Crown Prince died last year. He had four sons, and then a daughter. You’d think with five children there’d be someone to inherit, but, in order of succession, Gilen died young in a skiing accident, leaving no children. Gottfried died of a drug overdose when he was nineteen. Keifer drank himself to death, and Keifer’s only son Konrad died in a car crash two weeks ago. Rose, your father Eric died four years back, and Nick, your mother Zia, the youngest of the five children, is also dead. Which leaves three grandchildren. Eric’s daughters—you, Rose, and your sister Julianna—are now first and second in line for the throne. You, Nikolai, are third.’
‘Did you know all this?’ Nick asked Rose, and she shook her head.
‘I knew my father was dead, but I didn’t know any of the ascendancy stuff until I had Erhard’s letter. My mother and I left Alp de Montez when I was fifteen. Have you ever been there?’
‘I skied there once,’ Nick admitted.
‘Does that mean you can inherit the throne?’ she asked, smiling. ‘Because you skied there?’
‘It almost comes down to that,’ Erhard said, and Nick had to stop smiling at Rose for a minute and look serious. Which was really hard. He was starting to feel like a moonstruck teenager, and he’d only had half a beer. Maybe he’d better switch to mineral water like Erhard.
But, regardless of what he was feeling, Erhard was moving on. ‘We need a sovereign,’ he said. ‘The constitution of the Alp countries means no change can take place without the overarching approval of the Crown. I’d love to see the place as a democracy, but that’s only going to happen with royal approval.’
‘Which would be where we come in, I guess,’ Rose said. ‘Your letter said you needed me.’
‘Yes.’
‘But I’m not a real royal. Eric really wasn’t my father.’ She touched her flame-coloured hair and winced in rueful remembrance. ‘Surely you remember the fuss, Erhard? Eric called my mother a whore and kicked her out of the country.’
‘Not until you were fifteen. And you went with her,’ Erhard said softly.
‘There
