If Sophie aroused Dottie's dislike, Sophie's brother made the hairs stand up on her spine. Dagbert was handsome, but everything he did seemed naturally insolent, so that the disagreeable effect was stronger than his good looks. He flicked his eyes over Dottie and gave a little dismissive smile. Indignant, she raised her chin and looked over his head.

At last the ceremony was over and she was free to start the walk back down the crimson carpet. When the gilt doors had closed behind her she let out a long breath of relief.

“You did excellently,” Randolph said. “You looked right and you had the perfect distant manner.”

It was modest enough praise, but she felt a small glow of satisfaction. She guessed Randolph wasn't a man who paid lavish compliments.

“I feel like a puppet whose strings have been suddenly let go. They don't like me.”

“They were all very impressed by you.”

“Not Sophie Bekendorf and her brother. Did you see the way he looked at me? Like I was dirt?”

“Their position is…peculiar,” Randolph said awkwardly. “They too have had to adjust to circumstances.”

His tone warned Dottie to inquire no further. As if to keep her off the sensitive subject he hurried on, “Tonight I thought you and Mike would like to see some of the sights. The city is beautiful by floodlight.”

So Mike wasn't to be kept entirely apart from her, she thought with relief. Perhaps Randolph had accepted that he couldn't win.

Aunt Liz turned her out in style in a silky, flowing creation in pale blue, with a solid silver pendant.

“Enchanting,” she enthused. “And this afternoon you were just perfect. I know His Roy- That is, Randolph was thrilled with you.”

“He didn't exactly put it that way,” Dottie demurred.

“Of course not. You must understand that his standards are of the very highest. For his country, nothing is too good. You won't find him an easy taskmaster. What did he say to you?”

“He said I had the right distant manner.”

“Excellent. He must be really impressed to be so warm in his approval.”

“Yes, but… Oh well, never mind.”

Tonight she could be alone with Mike and tell him of the British ambassador's promise that her reward for holding the fort would be enough money to buy the garage. They could start making plans at once.

Mike too had been newly outfitted and appeared before her in a dinner jacket and black tie. She stared at him, impressed, and he returned the compliment.

“You look great, Dot. Real great. I've got a couple of friends here, who are going to show us the sights.” He turned to a handsome young couple in their twenties, who had come in with him. “Harry and Jeanie.”

“Count Heinrich and Countess Eugenia Batz,” Aunt Liz supplied, while the couple bowed and curtsied.

“You told me Harry and Jeanie,” Mike complained to his new friends.

“And so we are,” the man said merrily. “Your Royal Highness-”

“Oh no, please,” Dottie protested. “I can't stand any more of that. It's such a mouthful every time.”

“Isn't it?” Jeanie said gaily. “Protocol is that we just say it once a day, when we first meet you. After that it's ma'am.”

“We're all going to have a wonderful night out,” Harry said.

So she and Mike weren't to be left alone together, Dottie thought wryly. Randolph had thought of everything.

“I see you're all ready. Splendid.” Randolph's voice from the door made them all turn.

Like the other men he was wearing a dinner jacket, and Dottie had to admit that he put them into the shade, not just by being taller, but by a certain air of natural authority, the conviction that wherever he was, he was at home. It had been born and bred into him, and she guessed that he would never lose it now.

His gaze fell on her. She had the feeling that he checked slightly and a faint warmth crept into his eyes.

“Will I do?” she asked, and held her breath for the answer.

“Admirably. You begin to look like a queen.”

“Thank you,” she said, deflated.

“Tonight you will enjoy yourselves. Harry and Jeanie will show you the best time you've ever had.”

“Are you coming too?” Dottie asked.

“No, for once you'll be spared my company. Other duties demand my attention. But I'm leaving you in safe hands.”

“Eee Dot, it's gonna be great,” Mike enthused.

“You forgot my royal dignity,” Dottie teased him. “You should have said, 'Eee ma'am, it's gonna be great.”

Mike roared with laughter, and in the general mirth they all swept out of the door. Dottie tried not to mind that Randolph wasn't coming too, but it was natural, being used to his undivided attention, to feel a little put out.

In minutes the sleek, black limousine had reached the suburbs of Wolfenberg, the country's capital city. Although not large it was elegant and beautiful, with a Parisian air. The great buildings were constructed from pale gray stone and so cleverly built that the heavy material seemed to take wing. It was growing dark and the floodlights were already on.

“There's the parliament building,” Jeanie pointed out, “the town hall, the cathedral and there's the great fountain that was built to commemorate the battle of…”

For Dottie these things were interesting, but she knew that Mike would be going glassy-eyed with boredom. She asked him about his day and he needed no encouragement to talk about the Ferrari. Since Harry too was a car fanatic the conversation became mechanical, and they soon abandoned sightseeing.

“There's a little place just ahead that I think you'd like,” Harry said and soon the car swung into a pretty piazza. A short flight of steps led to a picturesque café with tables outside.

The place specialized in ice cream, and since Dottie was an ice-cream addict she felt she was in heaven. It was a warm evening. In the piazza just below them were trees hung with colored lights, beneath which couples strolled.

“This is the center of Wolfenberg,” Jeanie explained as Dottie tucked into a huge confection of chocolate, coffee and vanilla ice cream, studded with nuts and doused in cream. “People congregate here before and after the theater, and sooner or later everyone comes past.”

As if to prove her right Dagbert appeared from under the trees, and hailed them. “My friends! How nice to see you!”

He was full of bonhomie, demanding an introduction to Mike, bowing very correctly to Dottie. She greeted him coolly, remembering his air of dismissive contempt earlier that day, but tonight Dagbert was on his best behavior. He began to tell Dottie about the city, especially the cathedral, “where your coronation will be held.” She began to wonder if she'd misjudged him.

“It's getting a little chilly,” Harry said at last. “Perhaps we should find some entertainment indoors?” He smiled at Dottie. “We also have excellent nightclubs. Robin Anthony, for instance, is singing at The Birdcage.”

“Robin Anthony?” Dottie exclaimed in delight. “I've been madly in love with him for years.”

“You never told me,” Mike observed mildly.

“Yes I did. You took me to one of his concerts for my seventeenth birthday, and snored all the way through.”

“Oh yeah, I remember now.”

“But could we still get in?” she asked anxiously. “His concerts were always sold out.”

“They won't be sold out for you,” Dagbert observed.

“Oh yes, I forgot. Maybe, I'm going to enjoy this.”

Dottie wasn't sure what he told the manager but they were ushered to a table at the front, and she was treated with a discreet deference that she had to admit was pleasant.

“The trouble is,” she confided to Mike in an undervoice, “that after one day I'm already becoming spoiled. I warn you, when we get home I'll expect it.”

“Don't you worry Dot. I'll bring you a cuppa in bed every morning.”

Dottie squeezed his arm, overwhelmed by tenderness and affection for him. How could she have imagined anything would be better than being married to Mike?

Robin Anthony was a disappointment, past his best, putting on weight and living on his reputation.

“Oh dear!” Dottie sighed as he bowed his way off. “Goodbye my teenage dreams.”

“May I have the honor of dancing with my future queen?” Dagbert asked as the band struck up.

“I never learned posh dancing,” Dottie protested.

“It's only a waltz. I'll teach you.”

She let him lead her onto the floor. As he'd promised she found the steps easy, and was beginning to get the hang of waltzing, even to enjoy it.

“Don't keep looking down at your feet,” Dagbert urged her. “Have confidence. Head up.”

She raised her chin and her feet seemed to find their way of their own accord. The glittering lights of the club spun around her, tables, faces. Two faces that she knew.

“Steady!” Dagbert said. “You nearly tripped.”

“I-just missed my footing,” she stammered.

Another turn of the dance and the little scene passed before her eyes again. A far table, discreetly near the wall, a man and a woman, holding hands, leaning forward so that their heads were almost touching, talking intimately. Randolph and Sophie.

“I'd like to sit down now,” she said.

“But I thought you were enjoy-”

“Now,” she said sharply. All her original distaste for him was rushing back. This might have been a coincidence, but she would have bet her kingdom on Dagbert having known where his sister would be tonight.

He'd counted on being the king's brother-in-law, and probably milking that for all it was worth. This was a warning to her that he wanted the old order restored, and the battle wasn't over.

But then, she too wanted the old order restored, so there was nothing to mind about. And if Randolph's

“other duties” included a romantic dinner with his fiancée, that was just fine by her.

Just the same, she suggested that they all return to the palace, and since her word was law, everyone agreed.

Over her breakfast the next morning, Bertha informed her that Randolph would wait on her to discuss the day.

“You mean he'll come and tell me what I've got to do?” Dottie asked wryly.

“Well, His Roy- I mean, Randolph-”

“Why did you stop yourself?”

“He isn't a 'Royal Highness' anymore,” Bertha confided.

“What is he?”

“Nothing. Nobody. It's hard to know how to treat him. We all keep curtsying out of habit, but he gets very cross and tells us not to.”

How much self-discipline would that take? Dottie wondered. Perhaps a royal upbringing helped you to go through life smiling when you had to, behaving beautifully when your heart was breaking and concealing your thoughts and feelings. She tried to imagine herself acting so coolly, and retired, defeated.

Emerging from her bath she found Aunt Liz ready with a riding habit, “for your first lesson.”

“Am I going to learn to ride?”

“Those are my instructions.”

So Randolph gave orders over her head and relayed them to her via a third person. Dottie reckoned you didn't have to be a queen to be annoyed at that. But it was hard to stay cross when the snugly fitting habit showed off her trim figure and neat behind. She was admiring herself in the mirror when Randolph's voice said, “You are one of those rare women who can wear tight pants.”

“I can, can't I?” she said gleefully. This was no time for false modesty.

His own riding pants were also snug-fitting, confirming what she'd only suspected before, that his hips were narrow, and his stomach flat. His long legs, the thighs heavy with muscles, might have been created for such a garb. He was standing in his shirtsleeves, leaning against the wall, smiling like a man without a care in the world. But who could tell? she thought, remembering Bertha's words.

“Why riding?” she asked.

“Riding is a social grace, like dancing. When a foreign head of state visits you, you dance with him, and ride with him.”

“Then I'll need dancing lessons as well.”

“Yes, I heard about last night. I gather you managed very well.”

“Didn't you see me fumbling around? You were there with Sophie.”

“Yes, I was there with Sophie. Is there any reason why I should not have been?”

His eyes had lost their warmth and become as bleak and chilly as a moorland fog. For a moment she had a glimpse of a hostility that was all the more alarming for being usually hidden.

He seemed to realize that he'd given himself away for he recovered at once, and smiled. “Forgive me. I'm just not used to having my actions questioned.”

“But I didn't question your actions,” she said indignantly. “I merely mentioned having noticed you. There was no need to get fired up.”

“True. I'm a little oversensitive. I apologize if I offended you.”