An Unexpected Peril (Veronica Speedwell #6)(28)

“Is she betrothed?” I asked.

“Net yet,” the chancellor replied mildly. “There is a suitable match, the most suitable, but she va—va—” He tipped his head, clearly searching for the proper word.

“Vacillates?” Stoker suggested.

“Just so, vacillates,” the chancellor said in obvious satisfaction. “She will not make up her mind to a formal announcement of the engagement.”

“If she would only permit the betrothal contracts to be signed and a date to be set,” the baroness lamented. “She would be happy then, I think. But she is frightened of marriage and so she resists, every day putting off the inevitable and causing the gossips.” The baroness sighed. “She can be very whimsical,” she added.

This view of the princess did not conform to the serious, imperious young woman I had met. But it was little surprise she did not wish to commit herself quite yet to the rigid formality of marriage and court life.

“The princess is young,” I began.

“She is your age,” the baroness said.

I gave her an oblique look. “You have indeed made inquiries.”

Her smile was faint and apologetic. “You must forgive the impertinence, Miss Speedwell. But I had to be certain.”

“Certain of what?”

“That you would be an acceptable candidate,” the chancellor answered.

“You still haven’t told us—a candidate for what?” Stoker asked.

“To impersonate the princess, of course,” the chancellor replied, his moustaches looking very satisfied indeed.





CHAPTER





8


I ought to have stared in astonishment or protested or demanded further explanation. Instead, I sat forward, gripping my hands together in excitement. “I will do it.”

Beside me, Stoker gave a start. “You must be joking.”

“Indeed, I am not,” I said.

The chancellor’s austere features relaxed in obvious satisfaction, and the baroness nodded gravely. “You are courageous, Miss Speedwell.”

“Courageous?” I asked.

She looked to the chancellor, but he merely waved a dismissive hand. “A head of state will always receive threats most unsavory. We shall not discuss them.”

“I think we bloody well shall,” Stoker stated, his innate courtesy deserting him for once.

“You dare to swear in my presence?” The chancellor’s moustaches were quivering in indignation.

“I will do a damned sight more than swear if you think you can simply dismiss dangers to Miss Speedwell with a flap of the hand,” Stoker told him in a tone of ringing finality.

“Now, see here,” the chancellor began.

I held up a hand. “Gentlemen, please. No brangling. Stoker, you have been decidedly rude to the chancellor but your concern is understandable. Excellency, what sort of dangers do you anticipate?”

“One cannot anticipate every danger,” Stoker said icily. “That is why they are dangerous.”

“I am aware,” I told him, maintaining my composure. “But forewarned is forearmed, is it not, Excellency? Now, what form have these threats taken?”

The chancellor was clearly not pleased to have his feet held to this particular fire. He turned to the baroness and she hastened to reassure me. “A few letters, nothing more. The usual sort of thing one encounters when traveling. And even at home. A ruler is never universally popular.”

“What sort of letters?” Stoker asked.

She shrugged. “The odd complaint about a matter of policy. The occasional anarchist.”

Stoker and I exchanged glances. Our previous encounters with anarchists had been decidedly less than pleasurable. The baroness went on. “Those who wish to see the Alpenwald annexed to France. Those who wish to see her annexed to Germany. Those who want the princess to marry, those who want her to remain unwed. The sentiments are predictable.”

“But you suggested there were real dangers,” Stoker reminded her.

“I spoke out of turn,” she replied with a submissive look at the chancellor.

I turned to Stoker. “You see? Nothing to be concerned about. Just the usual madmen and fanatics.”

“Nothing to be concerned about. Veronica, have you entirely taken leave of your senses? Have all of you?” he demanded, looking from each of us to the others. “Your princess is missing. Have you not considered the possibility that one of these threats has at last materialized? Have you not considered the possibility that she may have been abducted?”

The chancellor shifted in his chair. “Her Serene Highness left a note.”

“A note! I should like to see it,” I told him.

His gaze slid from mine. “It was destroyed. We cannot risk the story being made public that the princess is not at hand.”

“What did it say?” Stoker demanded.

The baroness sat forward, perhaps eager to make amends for raising the specter of violence in the first place. “That she was leaving on a personal matter and did not wish us to worry.”

“What does that indicate to you?” I inquired.

“That she meant to return before tonight when her presence is required,” she said promptly.

“Then why worry now? She may yet turn up,” Stoker pointed out.