Princess Dottie

Chapter Ten

The first time Dottie saw a picture of Prince Harold she thought there had been a mistake.

“But he's supposed to be a monster. Wow, what a hunk!”

The man in the picture had everything to attract the female fancy, including a brilliant smile, regular features and eyes that seemed to gleam with fun. His mouth was full and sensual, and his body, as another picture revealed, was tall and lean.

“He looks good on horseback,” she observed, picking up a third. “You did say that I'd be going riding with him, didn't you?”

“I don't believe your schedule includes it, no,” Randolph said coldly.

She looked at him but he didn't return her gaze. His attention was absorbed in some papers and even the set of his shoulders seemed forbidding. She grew cross. Which of them was the boss here?

“Better fix it so that it does,” she said coolly.

“That is impossible. The schedule has been laid down and agreed with the Korburg embassy. It cannot be changed now.”

“Rubbish, you changed it only yesterday. I know you did.”

He still didn't look up but the back of his head clearly revealed his irritation. “And I'm not changing it again,” he said through gritted teeth.

“You're not? Don't I get a say?”

“You get too big a say as it is.”

“My people have no complaints. Ask them.”

“Oh yes, I've seen the latest opinion polls. They see you visiting sick children and homeless shelters, and they adore you because you do it wonderfully well.”

“That's not all I do.”

“No, some of your meddling has been lucky.”

“Meddling? How dare you!”

“What about the mayor of Sellingen?”

“I apologized for that.”

“And the wretched little man whom you decided was running a disorderly house?”

“It was a misunderstanding. He forgave me. Those roses over there come from his garden.”

Yes, that was it, Randolph thought, exasperated. She made the most outrageous mistakes, brought them all to the edge of disaster and her victims sent her roses.

“You jump in with both feet, never stopping to ask questions first, and count on people only remembering your successes,” he said. “There are rules that govern these things, just as there are rules that govern every aspect of your life now. The sooner you get used to that the better.”

“Oh, I know about the rules. It doesn't mean I'm going to lie down under every single one. Maybe I can change some of them.”

“Then you will do it after due consultation with me,” he said bluntly. “And don't threaten me with a decree or any of that nonsense.”

“I've never actually issued one yet, just talked about it.”

“Yes, because you rely on the threat to bring people to heel. I give you credit for trying. But often you're not trying in the right way.”

“You mean I'm not doing it your way. But why should I?”

“Because I happen to know a great deal more about what this country needs than someone who's still playing games.”

“If that's what you think I wonder you tolerate me here at all. Send me back and have Harold. I'm sure he knows what he's doing.”

She could have bitten her tongue off as soon as the words were out. Randolph's eyes grew cold with contempt.

“I thought better of you than that. Blackmail. Cheap, and despicable.”

She knew it and would have given anything to unsay the words. But she couldn't admit it to the bitterly contemptuous man who turned his scorn on her now.

“You're playing at being queen, Dottie. No more than that. Don't turn away from me.” He seized her arm as she turned and pulled her unceremoniously back to face him.

“Let me go,” she snapped.

“Not till you've heard me out.”

“Let me go at once, or I'll scream and bring the guards in.”

“I'm trembling.”

“You should. 'Laying unauthorized hands' on the monarch is high treason. You taught me that.”

“Why, you cheeky little-”

“Calling the monarch names is probably treason, too. I'm sure I could find a law about it somewhere. But I won't need to. You won't risk me calling the guards. Think how undignified it would be.”

In the silence his hand fell from her arm. Nothing in his lifelong training had prepared him for this situation, and his outrage and confusion were almost tangible.

Dottie took advantage of it to say, “You have our permission to leave.”

“What?”

“The crown princess gives you her permission to leave.”

“Dottie, you're beginning to do it very well but-”

“You will address me as Your Royal Highness, and you will not approach me again until I say so.”

She was shocked by her own temerity. After a stunned moment Randolph stepped away, bowed his head, clicked his heels and departed without a backward glance.

Everybody knew. In less than an hour the news of the breach had gone through the palace. By the next day everyone knew that it was worse than that. Prince Randolph had waited one day to give her the chance to summon him. When she didn't, he'd taken off to his estate in a terrible rage.

“He was just like this as a boy,” Aunt Liz recalled. “There were dreadful storms, when it was best to keep out of his way. But don't worry. Just give him a little time to calm down, then send for him again.”

“In a pig's eye I'll send for him.”

“Then you seem condemned to perpetual stalemate,” Aunt Liz said crossly.

“No way. He'll bring me the papers tomorrow as usual, and I'll let him know that he's forgiven.”

“For what?”

“For incurring my royal displeasure,” Dottie said with a chuckle.

There was something to be said for being royal. You could win every argument.

But next morning there was no sign of Randolph. His assistant appeared with a message to say that he'd been called away unexpectedly to settle a matter of administration in the princess's service. He would deal with it speedily, and on his return would give himself the honor of reporting to her, etcetera. Dottie made a suitable response, and wished she could have Randolph there for just five minutes, to tell him what she thought of him.

He was gone four days, then five, then a week. Dottie, who'd prepared a dignified speech, grew infuriated at never being able to deliver it.

When he did return after a week, and a servant came to say that he would wait upon her, she was so annoyed that she sent a message to say that she would inform him when it was convenient for her to see him.

After that there was silence.

“Why doesn't he report to me?” she demanded of Aunt Liz.

“Because you told him not to. Do you think a man of Randolph's pride is going to risk another snub?”

“Okay, so he can just sit there and sulk.”

“Yes, and you can sit here and sulk. And that'll make two of you sulking while the country goes to rack and ruin. I've no patience with either of you. Call him up and tell him how much you've missed him.”

“No way.”

“Dottie, why ever not?”

“Because I'm the crown princess,” she said miserably.

Somehow being royal was no guard against feeling that the world was empty because one man wasn't there. There had been nothing between them but kisses, anger and the half-admitted flaring of desire, but now she longed for more. Kisses weren't enough. She ached for him.

She wanted to know if his body, beneath his clothes, was as hard and athletic as she suspected. She'd had so little opportunity to find out, and the thought tormented her night and day. She wanted him to kiss her deeply, powerfully, and then do more than kiss her. She wanted him to take her wherever passion could lead them. She wanted him to show her the whole world.

But he wasn't there.

As Harold's visit neared, there was a series of meetings between politicians and civil servants, which Dottie insisted on attending. She wanted to know every detail of the arrangements. There were receptions, a state banquet and a ball in Harold's honor. There would be a performance at the State Opera House, and Harold would be asked to give a speech to parliament. So far so good.

But Harold also wanted to visit Korenhausen, a magnificent country mansion, where his grandmother had been born.

“He couldn't stand the old lady,” Sternheim snapped. “What's he playing at?”

“I suppose he wants to stand there looking 'deeply affected' for the sake of the photographers,” Durmand said. “And to remind everyone that he has Ellurian royal blood.”

“So have I, and I come from an older line, which is why I'm here and he isn't,” said Dottie, who'd been studying hard. “Let him do what he wants. Is there anything else?”

“Just one thing ma'am,” Durmand said. “It'll be hard to-”

“What is it?” Dottie asked. Not only had Durmand stopped but his eyes, and those of every other man in the room, were riveted on the door. Turning, she saw Randolph standing there with a brow like thunder.

“Out, all of you,” he said curtly.

His manner was so grim and purposeful that every man around the table forgot that Randolph was officially a nobody, and rose to leave the room. Dottie rose too, to confront him indignantly. But instead of being impressed by his sovereign's wrath he took firm hold of her arm.

“I didn't tell you to leave,” he said.

“What?”

“I said stay here.”

The door closed behind the last man.

“And just what do you think you're doing?” she demanded.

“I came to commit high treason,” he said, pulling her into his arms and silencing her mouth with his own.

The sudden granting of what she'd yearned for was a stunning shock, obliterating everything except sensation. It was glorious to have his lips against her own again, thrilling to feel the implicit promise in his movements, and despite her indignation she felt herself yielding to temptation.

But then, having let her glimpse wonders, he slammed the door again, drawing back a few inches, but keeping hold of her shoulders.

“Don't you ever keep me out again,” he growled.

Her temper flared. “And don't you tell me what to do. I'm the queen.”

“Not until your coronation, and not if I wring your neck first.”

“As if!” she scoffed.

He was holding her just far enough away so that she could see his intense, blazing eyes. This wasn't the Randolph she knew, the urbane, worldly wise aristocrat, or the friend and mentor whose exasperation with her was usually tinged with wry amusement. This was a man driven beyond endurance, no longer in command of himself. Something stirred in her-not quite alarm, but certainly a feeling of danger. She realized suddenly how helpless she was, alone with him, now that he was too angry to be careful. She hadn't known that danger could be so thrilling.

“I have spent the last two days twiddling my thumbs, waiting for Your Royal Highness to deign to remember my existence.” Randolph said the words with savage emphasis. “Do you really think you can treat me like that and get away with it? Because if so, you're living in cloud-cuckoo-land.”

“Is this the man who told me to remember my royal dignity?”

“Not with me-”

“Yes, even with you.”

“Careful Dottie. You're letting power go to your head.”

“That's what it's for!” she yelled.

“You have so much to learn. Don't ever insult me like that again, because I promise you I won't be a gentleman about it.”

“Is this you being a gentleman?”

“This is me letting you know what I will and will not put up with, and what I will not put up with is being ignored by you while the entire court sniggers at me. Do you understand?”

“I would have seen you any time the week before, but you weren't there,” she cried. “You were sulking at your estate.”

“I do not sulk.”

“Well, it sure looked like it to me.”

His eyes glinted. He'd spent the past few weeks learning deference to this maddening woman, but the lessons had come very hard to him. Suddenly it all fell away and he was once more Prince Randolph, reared to pride and arrogance from the day of his birth. “I don't let anyone talk to me like that,” he said softly.

“I just did.”

“And you won't do so again. Not if you know what's good for you.”

She grew lofty. “Have you forgotten who you're talking to?”

“I haven't forgotten, but I think you have-Dottie Hebden, who used to be charming but has gotten much too big for her boots.”

“No, I'm just wearing bigger boots. Why should you complain? You put them on me. I'm not 'little Dottie Hebden' anymore, Randolph. She vanished. If you don't like the new me, tough. You created me. I'm Crown Princess Dorothea, soon to be Queen Dorothea III, and you could get a life sentence for assaulting my royal person!”

“Then I may as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb,” he muttered, tightening his grip.

“How dare you-”

“Shut up.” He covered her mouth again.

This time there was no doubt that her royal person was being assaulted. He was doing what he wanted, and to hell with her objections! She should have been full of righteous indignation at this disrespect, but she wasn't. She didn't want respect. She wanted excitement. She wanted to be made aware of her own body as never before. She wanted what he was doing now, forcing her to recognize him as a man responding to her as a woman.

It was the first unambiguous proof she'd had that he desired her as much as she desired him, and she rejoiced in it. He wasn't faking the fierce movements of his lips, and the knowledge went through and through her with thrills of pleasure that seemed to be everywhere at once.

He wore no jacket, and through the thin material of his shirt she could feel his heated body, hard as a rock. There was no way she could have struggled against the strength in his arms, even if she'd wanted to. There was more than desire in this. He was showing her where the power really lay, so that she wouldn't kid herself about it. But there were other ways to demonstrate power. He'd chosen this one because he wanted her as much as she did him, on a basic level that had nothing to do with their fights. And he, too, was kidding himself if he thought he could kiss her like this and forget about it. There was no going back now.

Randolph couldn't have defined what had overtaken him, except that it had been a long time coming. He'd taken other orders from her and learned to grin and bear it. But no more!

“You can keep anyone else out,” he growled. “But not me.”

“You won't get in here another time,” she murmured, deliberately provoking him.

“I'll get in no matter how many doors I have to break down. Why don't you call your guards and have me arrested?”

“For what?” she whispered.

“For this,” he said tightening his arms again and kissing her lightly, swiftly, caressing her face with his lips while he murmured to her, “You're a fool, Dottie-but I'm a fool, too…”

His tongue was flickering against her lips, until she let them fall open. She was winning. At any moment-

And then she felt him stiffen, heard the swift muttered curse as he drew away from her, and her hopes came crashing down.

The door had opened, and all the men who had so spinelessly abandoned her to this predator were creep ing sheepishly back, having belatedly remembered which one of them was the monarch. Now they looked distinctly nervous at the prospect of challenging Randolph.

“It's all right,” he said. “I'd finished.” He released Dottie abruptly. His face was pale and his chest was still rising and falling, but he'd regained control of himself. As he made his way to the door, there was a touch of nonchalance in his manner.

“You can get on with your meeting now,” he said.

And he walked out.

Korburg was a small state just over the border, and unlike Elluria it was not a kingdom, only a principality. As such, it was a “poor relation” and not strictly entitled to the full panoply of honors for a state visit. But Dottie insisted on them. She had a point to make.

On the day of Harold's arrival she was waiting on the carpeted platform as his train glided in, to the accompaniment of the Korburg national anthem. The double doors of the special train slid open, and a man stepped out who was everything his picture had suggested, and more.

Dottie advanced the length of the red carpet to greet him. Flashbulbs went off as the press recorded their meeting. He took her hand in both of his and gave her a big, charming smile. For a brief moment she was overwhelmed by this dazzling, attractive man.

But the moment passed. Dottie hadn't been a waitress and a barmaid without learning how to read men's smiles. The mouth stretched but the eyes calculated. Will she, won't she? Fair game, anyway. Despite his splendid looks there was something dis agreeable about him.

I'd enjoy slapping your face, my lad, she thought.

But for the moment she had to defer that pleasure, and greet him with the appearance of friendliness. Then they must sit side by side in the open carriage, drawn by four white horses, and parade through the streets of Wolfenberg while crowds waved and cheered.

“Already you have won your people's hearts,” Harold said. “I congratulate you on your success.”

She responded appropriately, but she wasn't fooled. He was here to look her over and if he could find any sign of weakness he would pounce. But Dottie was equally determined that he would find nothing.

He was there for three packed days. That night there was a state banquet at which they sat side by side through six courses and ten speeches. They toasted each other. He smiled. She smiled. Randolph did not smile.

Harold paid a sentimental visit to Korenhausen, where he made a short, touching speech. He addressed parliament, with Dottie sitting in the gallery to lead the applause. They didn't ride together because, despite her command, Randolph had mysteriously forgotten to include it in the itinerary. But Harold was her host at a banquet at the Korburg embassy. She was his hostess for a performance of The Marriage of Figaro by the Ellurian State Opera. Dottie had gone glassy-eyed at this prospect, having never seen an opera before, but knowing it was bound to be boring. But halfway through the overture she found herself tapping her foot in time to the music, and after that everything was fine.

Harold was charm itself, playing the gallant to Dottie, and kissing her hand at every opportunity until she wished he would stop. He had a big, apparently genial smile which he turned on everyone, but above it his eyes were calculating and he missed nothing. Most of all, he saw that she was popular.

On his last evening there was a ball at the palace. They led the dance while the onlookers applauded.

“I've been eager for this moment,” he said.

“But of course. We are both heads of state. It's only proper that we dance together first.”

“That's not what I mean, and I think you know it. You're a beautiful woman, and now I have my arms around you, where they belong.”

“You're too kind,” she murmured. “Of course, I know that your position obliges you to pay me compliments, prince.”

“To hell with my position. You inflame me to madness.”

Dottie fought down a desire to laugh. Was she supposed to take this stuff seriously?

“I underestimated you,” Harold went on, visibly preening himself. “Now that I know you better I believe we can do business.”

“Business?” she considered the word. “You mean the kind of business you've been doing with those international companies who want to get at Elluria's minerals?”

“I? How could I do that? The minerals are yours to sell, not mine.”

“That's right. So it isn't true?”

“True?”

“That you've been accepting money on the promise of concessions to be delivered when you take over as king of Elluria?”

His face became gray with temper, but Dottie's sunny gaze at him never wavered, and after a moment he laughed.

“Of course it's not true.”

“And it's not true either that certain people are pressing you to cough up or repay the money?”

“Pardon? Cough up?”

“Never mind. I'm sure it's a terrible slander.”

“You know how rumors get around. That wasn't the kind of business I had in mind.” He tightened his arm about her waist.

“Prince, please,” she murmured modestly. “We are observed. People will talk.”

“Underlings. What do their opinions matter? I wish I could make you realize what this visit has meant to me. I'm thinking and feeling so many strange, unexpected things. Do you understand me?”

Perfectly, she thought with grim humor. I know your kind. Flash Harry! All teeth and trousers!

But she met his gaze, wide-eyed, and shook her head.

“I thought you wouldn't. You're so new at this game, that's what's enchanting about you.”

She nodded. “Everyone finds me enchanting since I became a crown princess,” she confided innocently.

That threw him because he wasn't sure how serious she was. He gave an uncertain smile, wondering if she was daring to make fun of him. Dottie's answering gaze was as guileless as a baby's, and she saw him relax, reassured that she really was as stupid as she'd allowed herself to seem.

“We can't talk now,” she murmured, “but later perhaps…on the terrace?”

The music ended. She gave him a dazzling smile and departed for her next dance. For an hour she passed from one distinguished nonentity to the next, making conversation with the top layer of her mind, while the rest noticed when Sophie danced with Harold and when with Randolph.

At last she had a moment to sit down. She leaned toward Jeanie, who was in attendance on her that night. “Ask Prince Randolph if he would like the honor of dancing with me,” she commanded regally. She then spoilt the effect by adding, “And tell him he'd better, or else.”

A moment later Randolph appeared. “I am bowed down by the honor,” he said as he extended his arm.

“I'll stamp on your toes if you talk to me like that,” she threatened.

“I see that we still understand each other,” he said ironically.

Being in Randolph's arms was nothing like being in Harold's. One man was full of lush compliments, overpoweringly attentive. The other was like a hedgehog. Yet with Harold she'd thought constantly of the moment of escape. With Randolph she thought only of Randolph, of how it would be if he held her close, so that she could feel his body move against her own.

The last time he'd held her was the day he'd stormed into the meeting, when he'd abandoned all control. But now his control was perfect again, and he danced as he did everything, correctly.

“How am I doing for my first state visit?” she asked.

“You're overdoing it,” he replied coolly.

“Is that all you've got to say? And I was trying so hard to please you.”

“What does it have to do with me?”

“Well, you're my mentor. Practically my father figure.” The sudden tightening of his hand in the small of her back was almost imperceptible, but she felt it nonetheless, and it eased her heart. She turned the screw a little. “I rely on your fatherly advice.”

“You wouldn't take any advice I could give you Dottie, and if you think I'm going to help you play off your tricks, you're mistaken.”

“I don't know what you mean.”

“You know exactly what I mean. There's a very shrewd brain underneath that blond fluff. And don't look at me like that either.”

“Like what?”

“Bland and innocent.”

She laughed. “Perhaps I really am bland and innocent.”

“Not you. You're a witch. Dottie, stop it! I told you not to look at me like that.”

Her laughter rang out. “Just ignore me. It's easy.”

He eyed her with grim appreciation of these tactics. “Be careful,” he said softly. “Harold is a dangerous man. If you're doing what I think you are, let me warn you, your people won't stand for it.”

“Randolph, you have absolutely no idea what I'm doing, so don't kid yourself.”

And he really didn't know, she thought. He was that blind. In fact, he was probably so blind that he wouldn't notice when she slipped away onto the terrace with Harold.

The moment came an hour later, when everyone was being refreshed with champagne. In honor of her distinguished guest Dottie carried two glasses out herself and they sat side by side to toast each other.

“To you, Dottie,” he said. “You don't mind if I call you that?”

“No, I still answer to it, with my friends.” She didn't say whether he was one of them.

“You've come a long way.”

“And I'll bet you know just how far.”

“It wasn't easy, but my researchers managed to track down The Grand Hotel. Manageress, eh?”

“Haven't your researchers found out any more?”

“Oh yes. I know you were nothing but a glorified barmaid. Who cares? You are a shrewd, ambitious woman, and I think we understand each other.”

“You keep my secret and I keep yours?” she asked archly.

“Precisely. And the best way for us to do that is-” abruptly he pulled her into his arms.

She had to fight not to gag. He was disgusting. She made a movement to box his ears, but stopped herself in time. Don't spoil it now, she thought. She laid her hands gently on his shoulders, as though she was willing but restrained by modesty.

They were like that when Randolph came to find Dottie.

Nothing could have gone better, she thought, lying in bed that night, looking into the darkness. Harold had been nonchalant, the very picture of a ladies' man caught in the act and loving it. Randolph had been furious and unable to say so, although there had been a look of angry reproach in his eyes that thrilled and hurt her at the same time.

She stretched and was about to settle down to sleep when she heard a noise at the French doors that led onto the balcony. She sat up and it came again, the soft movement of the latch, and then the sound of the door being opened, and somebody slipping quietly in.

“What are you doing here?” she cried.

“Sssh!” Harold said urgently, hurrying across the room to the bed. As he reached one side she slid out of the other.

“Keep away from me,” she said, feeling around for her robe without taking her eyes from him. Too late she realized that the robe was close to Harold.

He followed her eyes and whisked it up.

“Can I have that please?”

“Of course.” He began to move forward.

“Just throw it to me, and get right out.”

“You want me to walk out of that door?” he said indicating the door to the outer chamber.

Dottie froze. Out there was a lady-in-waiting, on night duty, and in the corridor outside were two footmen. No way could they be allowed to see Harold leaving her bedroom.

“Leave the way you arrived,” she insisted. “Come to think of it, how did you arrive?”

“You don't pay your maid enough.”

“You bribed her?”

“It's the simplest way. I got here before you, using the rear corridors. She let me in, I went out to wait on the balcony and she left the windows unlocked, I just crouched down behind the parapet. I thought we could talk better like this.”

“I have nothing to say to you.”

“I think you have. You like being crown princess,

I've seen it. As my consort, you'll still enjoy all the goodies. We'll both gain.”

“Marry you?” she said in a voice of pure scorn. “You're the last man I'd ever marry.”

“My dear, I'm the last man you'll have the chance to marry. Soon everyone will know that I'm here. You'll have no choice. But let's make quite sure, shall we?”

He moved fast but Dottie was faster, slicing her hand across his nose in a swift movement that made him squeal like a pig.

“Right,” he said, speaking rather nasally, “if that's how you want it I'm happy to oblige.”

Ducking her second blow he grasped her shoulders and pulled her hard against him. At such close range she couldn't fight effectively, and it seemed that nothing could stop him lowering his mouth to hers. He was getting nearer…

“Leave her alone.” It was Randolph's voice that cracked like a whip from the shadows.

He stepped forward into the light, his face livid. Behind him Dottie could see four other men.

Time stopped. Dottie freed herself from Harold's frozen hands and stepped back. Cornered, Harold stared around at them all with loathing.

“You're fools, all of you,” he raged. “You give your loyalty to that?” He pointed at Dottie. “That? A queen? She's a barmaid, that's all. A cheap, jumped-up little barmaid, giving herself airs. And you fell for it.”

Randolph started forward with murder in his eyes, but Dottie moved first.

Her knee came up sharp, hard and aimed with deadly accuracy. Harold fell onto the bed, clutching himself and moaning, while she regarded him with satisfaction.

“I wasn't a barmaid for nothing,” she observed.

A cheer went up from her defenders. They laughed and applauded while Dottie clapped a hand over her mouth in horror.

“I shouldn't have said that,” she squealed, looking in horror at Randolph.

But he too was laughing. “We are all your friends here,” he said. “And we're all proud of you.”

As if to prove it the men applauded some more. Looking around she recognized them all as soldiers who'd been her escorts at various times.

“They volunteered,” Randolph told her, reading her expression. “Your whole army is loyal to you, but these are 'your' men in a special way.” As he spoke he was slipping a robe over her disheveled nightgown.

“How did you all come to be here?” she asked.

“Bertha is more loyal than she seemed. Having pocketed Harold's bribe she came straight to me. I told her not to breathe a word to you, and when you'd gone to bed she let us all in. You were never in any real danger.”

“Thank you so much, all of you,” she said, spreading her arms wide to the soldiers.

“Don't think you really needed us though,” one of them said, provoking a laugh.

Harold was still writhing and choking. Two of them raised him to his feet and would have removed him, but Randolph stopped them.

“My dear cousin,” he said tenderly to Harold, “don't go without being the first to congratulate us. Princess Dorothea has honored me by agreeing to be come my wife.” He turned swiftly to Dottie. “I know you'll forgive me for announcing it like this, but there are reasons why Harold should be the first to know.”

The soldiers were in ecstasies. Dottie regarded Randolph with a fulminating eye, but there was nothing she could say in front of an audience.

What had she expected? Moonlight on a rose-strewn balcony? A tender declaration? This was a marriage of state. Yet his kisses had surely told her of something more, and she felt a quickening of excitement, even through her indignation at his high-handed behavior.

At last they were alone, and she confronted Randolph.

“'First to know' is right,” she seethed. “Harold knew before I did.”

“Nonsense Dottie, you've always known that our marriage was inevitable. You promised to do whatever your country needed. Now you know what it needs, and quickly. We can't take chances. He'll try something else, and we have to spike his guns.”

“Of course,” she said in a colorless voice.

That was how he saw their marriage, she realized-spiking Harold's guns.