maze of corridors before they finally reached a small solarium at the back of the house. Stopping outside the elegantly panelled double doors, Josie gave her a quick lesson in royal etiquette.
“You wait for the queen to speak first, and you curtsy when you are introduced. And don’t worry. The queen isn’t a stickler for such things, but it is the polite thing to do, and she will appreciate it.” Amusement glinting in her dark eyes, she added, “Smooth your hair, dear. That’s it. Ready?”
No! Eliza almost cried. She was about to meet the queen of Montebello. Of course, she wasn’t ready! Too late, she realized she should have taken time to freshen her makeup and clothes at the airport before rushing to the palace, but there was no time for that now. The queen was waiting and the clock was ticking.
Drawing in a calming breath, she nodded. “Let’s do it.”
Without a word, Josie knocked lightly on the door and pulled it open. A heartbeat later, she found herself ushered into a beautiful room with pale green walls, mosaic floors and the most gorgeous plants and flowers Eliza had ever seen. And there waiting for her was not only Queen Gwendolyn, but King Marcus, as well.
Her heart pounding crazily in her breast, Eliza told herself there was no reason to be nervous. They weren’t ogres. In fact, according to all accounts, they were amazingly friendly and down to earth, considering they lived in a palace. And even though Eliza had never met them, she’d written about them and their children and extended family so much over the years that she almost felt like she knew them.
But even as she went over all the reasons why she should be perfectly at ease in the presence of royalty, she curtsied awkwardly before Josie had a chance to announce her. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, blushing as red as her hair. “I was supposed to wait until I was introduced—and you spoke first.”
Queen Gwendolyn smiled with understanding, and it was easy to see why she was still considered one of the most beautiful women in Europe. In her early sixties, her porcelain skin was clear and virtually unlined, her eyes sparkled, and her figure was as trim and slender as a girl’s in a blue silk suit that exactly matched the color of her eyes.
Extending her hand, Queen Gwendolyn said, “For the most part, we don’t stand on ceremony in our home, Ms. Windmere. Please…may I call you Eliza?”
“Oh, yes, of course, Your Highness.”
Liking her immediately, Eliza shook her hand and could have easily sat down and chatted with her like they were old friends. The king, however, stood protectively at his wife’s side and looked every inch the royal. The past year had not been easy for him. Regal and aristocratic, his once dark hair was now nearly completely white and there were lines at the corners of his dark eyes that had not been there last year before his son’s plane crashed in Colorado.
Quietly greeting her, he got right to the point. “Josie tells us you have news of our son.”
“Yes, sir, I do. I believe he is alive.”
“According to Josie, you have proof,” Queen Gwendolyn said, her eyes dark with entreaty. “You don’t look like a cruel woman, Eliza. If this was all just a trick on your part so you could gain an audience with us, please admit it now, and there’ll be no hard feelings.”
When she took her husband’s hand and they stood side by side, their pain was visible. Eliza could have cried for them both. She’d never been married, never had children, so she couldn’t begin to imagine the extent of their hurt. Royalty or not, they were parents and they obviously loved their son, and if she could help them in any way, she would.
“I know this past year had to be extremely difficult for you, and I know that you’ve had people coming out of the woodwork claiming they had found the prince,” she said huskily. “I’ll be honest with you. I haven’t found him, either, and right now, I don’t have a clue where he is. But I truly believe he’s alive. Because of this.” Reaching into her purse, she pulled out the scarf Willy had found and held it out to the queen. “I believe this belongs to Prince Lucas, doesn’t it?”
Her gaze locked on the dirty, tattered scarf, Queen Gwendolyn gasped softly. Tears flooded her eyes, and when she reached out for the scarf with trembling fingers, it was almost as if she was afraid to touch it. “Oh, Marcus, look!”
The king didn’t say a word. His expression as hard as granite, he shot Eliza a look that would have had a lesser woman shaking in her shoes. “We gave this to our son for Christmas last year. Where did you get it?”
“From a man named Willy Cranshaw,” she replied. “He found it in the woods in Colorado…near an abandoned campsite about five miles from the crash site.”
“You think Lucas dropped it there?” the queen asked, brushing away the tears that spilled from her eyes. “That he somehow survived the crash? All this time when we thought he was dead, you think he’s been wandering around the mountains? Is that what you’re saying?”
Eliza would have bet everything she owned that that was exactly what happened, but she couldn’t prove it. And until she could, she wouldn’t give the queen false hope. “I don’t know, Your Highness. I just know that the scarf didn’t walk away from the crash site on its own.”
She was trying to be cautious, but she might as well have saved her breath. The king and queen exchanged a long look, and suddenly they were in each other’s arms, laughing and crying and dancing with joy.
“He must be alive, Gwen!” the king laughed joyfully. “Can you believe it? After all this time, he’s really alive!”
Ecstatic, he whirled her around, then kissed her soundly, not caring who saw. “I have to tell Lorenzo,” he exclaimed, “so he can reopen the investigation. And the girls! They’re going to be thrilled. Rudy?” he yelled, all dignity gone as he glanced around for his personal servant. “I need you, man. Where are you?”
“Here, Your Highness,” the older man said quietly as he stepped into the room.
Surprising the older man, the king embraced him like a brother. “Lucas is alive, Rudy!”
To his credit, Rudy admitted that he’d already heard the news. “Ms. Windmere said that he was, Your Highness, but I thought she was another fortune hunter. Forgive me, Miss,” he told her solemnly. “But I couldn’t take any chances.”
“It’s okay,” she replied with an easy smile. “I know you were only doing your job.”
Pleased by both his old friend’s honesty and Eliza’s response, the king patted him on the shoulder. “Go get Lorenzo for me. He needs to know about this so we can reopen the investigation.”
At the mention of the duke’s name, Eliza stiffened. No! she wanted to cry. Don’T Bring Him In On This! But even as she bit back the words, she knew she was going to have to deal with the duke whether she liked it or not. He was, after all, the head of Royal Intelligence and had been in charge of the search for the prince from the moment his plane had gone down. Of course the king would want him to know about the scarf.
“Please sit down, Eliza and tell us everything,” the queen said, motioning her over to the pretty cream-colored couch and wing chairs that flanked the marble fireplace, which was the focal point of the room. “I know you said Mr. Cranshaw found Lucas’s scarf near a campsite in the mountains, but can you give us all the details you know?”
“Did
