“You're saying that you haven't read one word of this letter?”

“Only the first two, which strike me as highly unsuitable for you to receive from your ex-lover and a married man. If that had fallen into the wrong hands-”

“As far as I'm concerned it already has.”

“She only saw the start, I'm sure of it.”

“Yes,” Dottie said in a strange voice, “Now I'm sure of it, too.” She was reading the letter. “I think you should hear this.”

“There's no need,” he said tensely. “I don't want to know what passes between you.” If only this were true!

“Oh, but I think you should hear every word,” Dottie said, with a light in her eye that troubled him. “Then you can tell me how 'unsuitable' it is for me to receive it.” She began to read. “Dottie love, thought you'd like to know the end of the story. Wedding went off great. Hope you like the cake. Garage is smashing. Am definitely pregnant. Love from 'all three' of us. Best, Brenda.”

When she'd finished there was silence. Randolph looked at her while his reactions warred in him. He felt foolish for having been so completely caught out, but greater still was the feeling of joy. She wasn't exchanging love letters with Mike.

But he couldn't read her. He knew Dottie's gift for “seeing the funny side,” but would it rise to this?

“I think perhaps I'll publish this in the court circular,” she said with grim hilarity, “so that everyone can see what an efficient secretary I have.”

He gave a small, formal bow. “That, of course, is Your Royal Highness's privilege.”

“Don't you dare talk to me like that!”

“Well, anything I say or do now is going to be wrong, isn't it?”

“And stop trying to cut the ground out from under my feet.”

“I had it cut out pretty comprehensively under mine. Let's face it, Dottie, the joke's on me. Why not just enjoy it?”

As the import of these words dawned on her she felt her anger drain away out of the soles of her feet. It was unbelievable, impossible. “Randolph, are you actually going to stand there and tell me that you've seen a joke against yourself? You?”

“I suppose I am. It must be your influence.” His lips twitched. “I'm sorry, Dottie. I really am.”

“So you should be. Oh heavens!” She finally yielded to her laughter, and he joined in. Laughing at himself was a new experience, but he found he got the hang of it fairly easily.

“That's better,” she said. “You see, you can do it.” She put her hands on his shoulders and gave him a little shake, and the next moment he'd enfolded her in a bear hug.

“Dottie, Dottie…” He scarcely knew what he was saying, only that it was wonderful to hold her close in a moment of affectionate companionship.

If he tried hard he could believe that was all it was, but in no time he knew it had been a mistake to hold her against his body. The toweling robe was thick, but not thick enough to make him unaware of her nakedness beneath, or to stop him responding to it. He began the movement that would push her away, but it turned to a caress so light that he hoped she wouldn't feel it.

Dottie was so happy to have gotten rid of the hostility between them that she tightened her arms, hugging him with all her might. In return she thought she felt the lightest touch on the top of her head, as though a kiss had been dropped there. She looked up quickly, finding his face just above hers, and it seemed to her fancy that he looked like a man who'd just kissed someone and wanted to do so again. He was trembling, but not as hard as she was.

But then his hands were firm on her shoulders, pushing her away. “I'm sure you have a busy day ahead, ma'am.”

“No I haven't. I've got a free morning. Let's go riding.”

Her eyes were wide and hopeful, full of an offer to forget their quarrel, and return to the time when they had been at ease. Wouldn't a good secretary accept that offer and be on friendly terms with his future sovereign? For the sake of the country?

The temptation hung before him, dazzling him with offers of beauty and excitement: to ride with her under the trees, to walk beside the water where she'd once kissed him, in the days when he'd still been blind to what was so clear now, to laugh and be happy and forget duty.

With a sigh he came down to earth. She was dangerous. She threatened his control.

“It sounds lovely, but your secretary must spend the day serving your interests.”

“Oh, all right. Spoilsport. Now push off while I get dressed.”

“Of course.” He extended his hand. “Friends?”

She took it. “Friends.”

It came nowhere near the truth, but it would have to do for now.

The state visit was arranged for six weeks ahead. While preparations went on behind the scenes Dottie's ministers decided to capitalize on her growing popularity by introducing her to the country. She found her schedule full of visits to hospitals, factories, schools.

Often she had to stay overnight. These were fun occasions that she used to get to know her ladies, who were mostly young and lively. The exception was Duchess Alicia Gellin, an elderly widow with a reputation as a battle-ax. Dottie's sharp eyes saw the loneliness beneath the crusty surface, and insisted on appointing her.

It turned out to be an inspired choice. Alicia knew more gossip than the rest of the court put together, and she kept Dottie in the know better than any security service.

On one hospital visit she outlined the timetable, ten minutes for this ward, fifteen minutes for that, five minutes with the matron and an hour with the governors. But Dottie was unable to leave a children's ward in less than half an hour. She started singing a children's song from her own childhood and soon they were all singing it. Every verse ended with a command to start again from the beginning, and it seemed as if they would be there forever. Patients who could walk wandered in to see what the noise was about, and stayed to sing. Young doctors joined in with gusto. One of them winked at Dottie, and she winked back. The song ended only when they were all too weary to go on.

After a while the visits blended seamlessly into each other, the same rides through the streets, the same smiles and cheers. Then there would be dinner with the local dignitaries, during which Dottie could practice being the one to direct the conversation. This was mentally exhausting as it was always up to her to produce new ideas. Luckily Alicia seemed to have relatives wherever they stopped and was a mine of local information. Of course, her secretary would have been even better, but Randolph had contrived to excuse himself on the grounds of pressing work.

After dinner she would sit up with one or two of her ladies, chatting with the top level of her mind, while the rest of it wondered what Randolph was doing at this moment.

One day her driver, confused in a strange place, took a wrong turn and went too far down a narrow street to be able to turn around. Seeking a way out, he drove on and on, until Dottie found herself in a nightmare place.

“It looks as though they've had a fire,” she said, getting out. “At least three streets have gone. But why don't they do something?”

“Because the council's taken all the money,” said a surly voice nearby. It belonged to a shabby man who seemed to be living in the ruins of a house.

“Tell me about it,” Dottie said at once.

The houses belonged to the local council, and had caught fire years ago. The government had voted money to rebuild but the council bickered endlessly about which department had the right to spend it, while the inhabitants stayed homeless. As the man spoke, more and more people came close and stood listening. Soon there were enough to form a dangerous mob, had they been so inclined. But none of them moved. They were watching Dottie. They knew her face from pictures. Suddenly they had new hope.

By now her official escort had managed to catch up with her, full of profuse apologies, eager to whisk her away, the story half-told. Dottie saw the expressions in the crowd change to cynical. Now she would leave and forget them. She couldn't bear it. Impulsively she spread her hands.

“Don't worry,” she told. “I'm going to get this sorted.”

There was a sharp intake of breath from close by, but it was drowned by the cheers from the crowd. They believed her.

“Now you've got a tiger by the tail,” Alicia observed as they talked that night. “Sternheim is the local 'great man' around her. The ruling clique on the council are mostly his buddies. He protects them and they do as they like.”

“Why doesn't the local newspaper make a fuss?”

“He owns it.”

It didn't surprise Dottie to find, on arriving home, that Sternheim had been in urgent consultation with Randolph.

“Don't tell me,” she said, holding up her hands at the sight of Randolph. “The future queen isn't supposed to make promises, but I've made it now and I have to keep it and that means-”

“Dottie-”

“-that it doesn't matter what Sternheim or anyone else says.”

“Dottie-”

“I don't even care what the rules say because-”

“Dottie, will you pipe down and let someone else get a word in edgeways?” he roared.

“Just as long as I've made myself clear.”

“Blindingly. Now will you please tell me what happened and how you managed to get Sternheim so rattled.”

“He's rattled? Great!” She told him the whole story. “Alicia says he's the local great man. Local pig if you ask me. Anyway, he's got them all by the short and curlies.” Randolph winced. “You know what I mean.”

“Yes I do, and I beg you not to use that expression to anyone but me.”

“Never mind that,” she told him impatiently. “Tell me what I can do. What about a decree?”

“No decrees,” he said at once. “A decree is a blunt instrument. Save it for a big occasion.”

“I only-”

“Button it, and listen. Sternheim will be here in a minute. He'll have heard you're back and he won't waste time.”

“Good. I want a word with him.”

“No!”

“Yes.”

“Dottie, you can't accuse him. It would cause a scandal. He mustn't even suspect that you know of his involvement. There are other ways. I'll talk to him. You don't say a word.”

“Oh don't I?” she said, bristling.

“No, because if you do you'll ruin everything, and the people who will suffer will be the ones you've promised to help.”

That silenced her, he noticed with a touch of respect. “You leave it to me,” he said.

The last words were spoken in a tone that brooked no argument, and for a moment she could see Randolph as the king he should have been. But she couldn't say anything because Sternheim appeared at that moment, bristling with barely suppressed annoyance. But Randolph would put it right, Dottie thought with a surge of confidence.

When the civilities had been gotten out of the way Randolph said, in the smooth voice of a diplomat, “Chancellor, I'm sure you appreciate that our princess is young and unfamiliar with her new duties, and she was wholly unaware of the impropriety of her…”

He managed to make it last for five minutes, during which Dottie stared at him, sick with disillusion. How could he be doing this? Not to her, but to the innocent victims of fire and corruption.

Sternheim was relaxing visibly as the emollient words poured from Randolph. Gradually a smile spread over his smug features.

“I'm sure we can all consider the matter settled,” Randolph said at last, “once we've dealt with the small matter of presentation.”

“What's that?” Sternheim demanded.

“Her Royal Highness gave a promise in public. People will be watching to see what happens, so we must make it seem as if things are being done. I suggest a commission of inquiry, with full powers to investigate and summon witnesses. They'll speak to the unfortunate residents and everyone on the council, and the accounts department will explain exactly what's happened to the money, and the world will be satisfied.”

As he listened to this speech Sternheim's smile had faded and his skin turned an ugly gray. Watching him, Dottie realized that Randolph had pulled a masterstroke. Without uttering a single accusation he'd lured the minister into a trap from which there was only one escape.

“A commission of inquiry,” Sternheim said, almost stuttering. “But that'll take time.”

“Months,” Randolph confirmed. “Since every detail must be uncovered.”

“But where are these poor people supposed to live in the meantime?” Sternheim blustered.

“In the ruins, where they're living now,” Dottie couldn't resist saying.

“Shocking! Shocking!” Sternheim stammered hastily.

“Your concern does you credit,” Randolph told him, “but what else can we do?”