“Oh, please, you must stop him!” Eliza said quickly, interrupting. “There is no need for him to announce a new heir. Prince Lucas is still alive! I have proof!”
“She’s a reporter, Josie,” Rudy said when his wife gasped. “She broke in—”
“Because the guard at the gate wouldn’t let me in. I was desperate.”
Josie Sabina, to her credit, didn’t dismiss her out of hand. “Well, I suppose I might do the same thing if I was desperate,”she said with a slight smile. Studying her speculatively, she suddenly held out her hand and introduced herself. “I’m Rudy’s wife, Josie. And you’re…?”
“Eliza Windmere.” Sensing a kindred spirit, she took her hand with a sigh of relief. “It’s very important that I talk to the king, Mrs. Sabina. His son wasn’t killed in the plane crash. I live in Colorado. I wouldn’t have flown halfway around the world for a hoax. I’m not that kind of person. I really do have proof.”
When Josie glanced at her husband for guidance, Eliza felt her heart sink. This was her last chance. If Josie didn’t help her, she was going to be tossed out on her ear, and she could forget getting a message to the king. Duke Lorenzo would spread the word that she was a crazy American reporter and nothing she said would be taken seriously.
“Duke Lorenzo said to show her out,” Rudy told his wife. “I’m just following orders.”
That was her clue to do the same, but just when Eliza felt sure Josie was going to tell her she couldn’t help her, the older woman hesitated. “If there’s the slightest chance the prince is alive, you know I have to tell the queen, Rudy,” she told her husband finally. “She would want to know.”
“But what if this is nothing but a scam?” he argued. “The king won’t be happy that you upset the queen for nothing.”
“That’s a risk I’ll have to take,” she said simply. “If the prince was my son and there was the slightest chance he was alive, I would want to know.”
Put that way, Rudy knew when he was beaten. “All right,” he sighed. “We’ll wait here for you.”
Thrilled, Eliza wanted to hug them both. Finally, someone was listening to her! Now, if only the queen would! Sending up a silent prayer as Josie rushed off to talk to her, she waited with Rudy and tried not to be concerned when one minute turned into two, then three, then ten. It wasn’t easy. She didn’t like letting other people speak for her, and her too-active imagination was jumping to all sorts of conclusions, none of them good. What was taking so long?
Impatient, worry eating at her stomach, she would have gone looking for Josie and the queen if Rudy hadn’t been watching her like a hawk. And he obviously knew that. Standing nearby, he had the patient look of a man who had no intention of letting her out of his sight, even if that meant watching her for the rest of the day.
Trapped and hating it, she was looking around for a way to distract him so she could slip away when she spied Josie quickly approaching from the far end of the hall. Her heart in her throat, she stepped toward her. “Well? Will she see me?”
“You have ten minutes,” she replied solemnly, only to laugh when Eliza pulled her into a hug. Patting her, she smiled. “Come. You don’t have any time to waste.”
With Josie now as her escort, they made their way through a 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