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 her larynx to utter a single sound. He cupped her elbow in his palm, obviously expecting her to accept his invitation.
Panic welled up within her. No, no! she wanted to shout. It was bad enough that she’d made herself look stupid to the upper echelon of Rhineland society. She certainly didn’t want everyone to discover that she also had two left feet!
It wasn’t that she hadn’t tried to learn to dance. She’d suffered through two full years of torturous dance classes. Although, the fact that the instructor had been a snooty little man who had made her feel nothing short of a lumbering elephant out on the dance floor when all her other siblings—full, step and half—had blossomed into elegant swans under the man’s tutelage. And her stepbrother Georges, a man who hated to fail at anything, had finally thrown up his hands in utter frustration when he’d attempted to teach her.
With her heart pounding so hard that blood whooshed dizzyingly through her head, she was finally able to sputter, “C-can’t you see I’m in the middle of a c-conversation with the prime minister?”
The question sounded abrupt even to her own ears, and Ariane was horrified that she hadn’t tempered her tone.
Having been born a princess, Ariane had attended many balls and parties in her twenty-three years, and she’d become skilled at turning down invitations to dance. Her grandmother, Dowager Queen Simone, wanting to help her granddaughter work around this little problem, had trained her extensively on just how to decline a request to dance without hurting the feelings of the party offering the invitation. In fact, Ariane had succeeded in doing just that at least seven or eight times this evening.
But the way Etienne’s dove-gray eyes sparkled had thrown her for a loop. Why hadn’t she noticed before this moment how amazing—how mesmerizing—his gaze was?
The prince’s grip on her elbow tightened gently but insistently, and he guided her away from the group. He murmured, “Our prime minister could talk the ears off a brass monkey. But I have orders from none other than the queen herself who threatened me if I didn’t get you out on the dance floor.”
The dread churning inside Ariane didn’t abate a bit, but the humor playing around the handsome prince’s mouth lulled her into querying, “And what did she threaten you with?”
Etienne chuckled, and Ariane could tell from the look on his face that this man was very fond of the woman who had given birth to him.
“Oh, she didn’t specify the hazards I’d face if I didn’t follow her instruction,” he told her. “She didn’t have to. She’s been my mother for twenty-nine years. I know better than to disobey her wishes.”
“Sounds like Queen Laurette is quite a tyrant,” she teasingly surmised.
The prince grinned, and she felt as if the summer sun were shining full on her face.
He whispered conspiratorially, “Don’t let this get about…but I’ve got my mother wrapped round my pinkie. However, I do like to keep her happy. So help me out here, would you? Just one little dance is all I need from you, and Mother’s mind will be put to ease.”
Maybe it was the fact that her own mom had died when she was seventeen, or maybe it was because she had such a terrible relationship with her current stepmother, the jealous and oh-so-insecure Queen Celeste, but Ariane found it very endearing, indeed, to discover that the prince had formed such an open and loving bond with his mother. And the fact that he didn’t mind Ariane knowing how he felt about the queen, well, that was just icing on the cake.
The heels of her shoes clicked on the smooth marble floor that was fairly swarming with couples who had already begun swaying to the breezy orchestral melody.
She hesitated, then decided she’d better do what she could to warn him what he was in for. “Etienne, please…”
He stopped and looked down at her, apparent curiosity puckering his high, intelligent brow.
Oh. She’d made herself out to be foolish enough tonight, she hated the notion of divulging further faults. Finally, sheer desperation had her softly admitting, “I’m afraid I’m about to embarrass you.”
Again,
