for Colonel Rickard immediately,” the king commanded.
“My dear, why send for the chief of security now that Adele has already slipped past his guards?” Muriel asked.
King Leopold glared at his wife, who shrank away from him and cast her gaze to the floor.
“I’ll call for Colonel Rickard,” Lord Burhardt said.
King Leopold walked over, placed his arm around his wife’s shoulders and hugged her affectionately. She lifted her face and smiled at him.
Lisa’s stomach knotted painfully. Would Colonel Rickard question her? Would he figure out that the princess had left the palace disguised as her?
Within five minutes the tall, slender chief of palace security stood before the king, an embarrassed flush on his pale face. Lisa felt sorry for Colonel Rickard. After all, it had been on his watch, so to speak, that the princess had managed to leave the palace grounds without detection—and without her palace guards.
“The princess has not been kidnapped,” the king said.
Colonel Rickard sighed; his lips twitched with a grateful half smile. “Then you’ve heard from her, Your Majesty?”
King Leopold held up the crushed letter and pointed it at Colonel Rickard as if it were a weapon. “The damn fool girl has run off and says in this message—” he shook his clenched fist “—that she will not return until I call off her wedding to Dedrick.”
“This information is strictly confidential.” Lord Burhardt offered first the colonel and then Lisa a deadly, warning glare. “It is to go no further than the people in this room.”
“Quite right,” the king said. “Colonel, I want the princess found and brought home as soon as possible. How do you suggest we go about accomplishing this without alerting the press in any way? Things must be handled discreetly. A scandal must be averted!”
“I understand, Your Majesty,” the colonel said. “I suggest hiring a private firm to track down the princess and, with your permission, bring her home even if it means taking her against her will.”
“A private firm? Hmm.” The king rubbed his chin. “A firm outside of Orlantha? Yes, yes. A trusted firm with operatives who know how to keep their mouths shut.”
“I will make some discreet inquiries, sire, and have suggestions for you within the hour.” The colonel bowed.
King Leopold waved a dismissive hand. “Yes, go. Now. And hurry. We have no time to lose.” The minute the colonel bowed again and then exited the chambers, the king turned to Lord Burhardt. “Issue a statement that the princess has the flu and is confined to her quarters. Contact Dr. Latimer and instruct him to come to the palace this morning.”
Lord Burhardt bowed, clicked his heels and left. Lisa waited, praying the king would dismiss her. She needed to contact Pippin Ritter as soon as possible to tell him where the princess was and to pass along the information she’d left for him.
The king slumped down on a huge, ornate chair by the fireplace. The queen came to him, leaned over the chair and placed her hands on his shoulders.
“Please rest, my dear.” Queen Muriel patted her husband tenderly. “Adele will be found and returned home. All will be well.”
The king glanced at Lisa. “She told me that she didn’t love Dedrick. That’s what this is all about, isn’t it? Some romantic nonsense. I assured her that she would grow to care for Dedrick. The man has several sterling qualities. He’s intelligent, quick-witted, charming, and his bloodlines are pure. I refuse to believe that it’s anything more than prewedding jitters with Adele.”
Lisa remained quiet, aware that she had no right to voice an opinion. She thought Dedrick was only fairly intelligent, and he was seldom charming except when in the king’s presence. Those who knew him well were aware that he drank to excess, gambled and womanized. Hardly sterling qualities.
“Adele told me some ludicrous story about suspecting Dedrick of treason,” the king said. “She thinks he’s one of those damn Royalists who wants us to reunite with Balanchine. I told her there was no point in her fabricating lies about him.”
“Sire, what if…what if they aren’t lies?” Lisa expected an outraged cry from the king, but instead he simply stared at her as if she were speaking in an alien tongue.
“You’re dismissed,” the king said. “If you hear from Adele… Never mind. She won’t telephone the palace.”
Lisa curtsied, then fled as quickly as possible. Once securely locked in her private quarters in the princess’s wing of the palace, she used her cell phone to contact Vice Chancellor Ritter. He needed to know what had happened and that the princess would be sending and receiving messages through her friend, Dia Constantine.
Adele sipped at the pink champagne as she lounged in the drawing room of Chateau Gustel thirty kilometers outside Vienna. The house and grounds would be considered large by most people’s standards, but in comparison to the palace and royal grounds in Erembourg, the estate was rather small. But it was quite comfortable, with an adequate staff. And Yves had been utterly charming these past three days. They’d had such fun flying off to Paris yesterday for a divine shopping spree. No one had had any idea that the kooky redhead on Yves’s arm was actually the princess of Orlantha. Being incognito was proving to be amazingly exciting. But she couldn’t hide out here with Yves indefinitely. It was only a matter of time before someone discovered her whereabouts. But for now she was safe. Living outside Orlantha, there wasn’t much she could do to help Pippin and his trusted colleagues in their quest to find evidence against Dedrick. But she could buy them all some time by stopping the wedding or at least postponing it until she could show her father hard proof of Dedrick’s disloyalty.
Yves breezed into the room, a newspaper under his arm and a quirky smile on his handsome face.
“What’s wrong?” she asked. “You have a silly expression on your face.”
“We’ve been found out,” he replied.
“What?” Adele spilled a drop of champagne on her silk trousers as she rose from the settee.
Yves opened the paper and read to her, “Rumor has it that Princess Adele of Orlantha, reported to be in bed with the flu at the palace in Erembourg, is in actuality cavorting about Paris with none other than that bon vivant Yves Jurgen. Now, why would the engaged princess be traveling with a man other than her fiancé, Dedrick Vardan, Duke of Roswald?” Yves sighed dramatically. “The article goes on and on, but you get the idea. I’m afraid we’ve blown your cover, chère.”
“That means it’s only a matter of time before someone figures out I’m here in Vienna with you.”
“We can pack our bags and head out for the Riviera whenever you say. This evening. Tomorrow.”
Adele shook her head. “No, I’m afraid not. Everyone in Europe knows you. And apparently they recognize me, even in a red wig. I’m less likely to be recognized if I’m alone.”
Yves tsk-tsked. “I hate the idea of your being out there alone. What will you do if—”
“I’ll make arrangements to fly to Golnar in the morning,” Adele said. “I’ll phone Dia to let her know
