Chapter 11 #2
He shrugs. “I’m sure it’s nothing they haven’t heard before. Don’t think they’re sheltered just because Mother and Father send them to that all-girls school.”
“It’s true,” Liesel confirms. “Some of those girls have filthier minds than him.”
“Anneliese, please,” I beg. “For the love of Christ, allow me to believe my baby sisters are innocent. Just for a little while longer.”
“Hate to be a bubble burster, big bro,” Claus cuts in. “But no one around here seems to think to disconnect from the Wi-Fi before certain nighttime browsings. And sometimes daytime.” He waggles his eyebrows.
“Oh, for fucks sake.” I rub at my beard.
“Appears our darling Lorelei was trying to find information on blowjobs just the other day.”
She shrugs. “What? I was curious.”
I gape at her, and Miles coughs into his drink.
“Wait,” Anneliese pipes up. “You monitor our search history?”
“Simple enough to see what websites are being accessed and then trace them back to each IP address.”
She pales.
“It’s alright, Liesel. Your smutty fan fiction secret is safe with me. Oops!” He slips on that false apologetic expression he mastered in early childhood.
“You’re a dick, Claus!” Anneliese hisses as she sweeps from the balcony, escaping her embarrassment.
He slides casually into her vacated chair and steals another swig of whiskey. “Finally, my legs were getting tired.”
“You really are a dick, you know?” Lorelei slugs him on the shoulder.
“Shh.” I glare at them.
Betsy has taken to the platform at the head of the ballroom.
“Good evening, ladies.” Her voice projects across the room, even up to us in the mezzanine.
All conversation ends abruptly, and the focus is on her alone.
“Welcome to Vertmure Palace. On behalf of the royal family, I’d like to thank you all for your presence here tonight as His Royal Highness Prince Friedrich begins his search for a wife. ”
I scan the crowd of women as she speaks. My siblings’ antics have distracted me, and the ballroom is now full of the women ready to compete for my attention. Ready to compete to be the future queen.
“I know you all came here tonight hoping to mingle with the royal family, most especially Prince Friedrich. However, tonight the palace representatives and confidants of the family will be evaluating all of you in order to decide who is fitting for tea with the queen next Sunday.”
There is a low, embittered murmur at that announcement.
“These men and women will be evaluating your ease in unrehearsed social situations. The future princess must be adept in conversation, a master of discerning body language, and always carry herself with poise and grace, no matter the event. Throughout the night, some of you may be asked to leave. Please do not attempt to return; security is well-versed on each of you. Waiters will begin serving drinks and hors d’oeuvres shortly.
Please do enjoy yourselves, ladies, and best of luck to you all. ”
The din of chatter returns as Betsy leaves the platform.
“Say.” I nudge Miles. “Isn’t that Margaret LaFleur in the red?” I gesture to the woman in question.
“Ah, Marguerite,” Miles sighs, resting his chin on his hand. “What a woman.”
“You dated her in university, yeah?”
“Briefly. All too briefly.” His eyes become slightly unfocused.
“I had forgotten she came from a titled family,” I muse. Perhaps not every woman down there is a vapid royal chaser, though I’d never try anything with my best friend’s ex-girlfriend, no matter how long ago they dated.
“Newer to the peerage, easy to forget,” Claus shrugs.
“Her dress is lovely,” Lorelei puts in.
“Yeah,” I trail off.
My eyes fall on Aurelia and Trixie in the crowd.
My cousin is easy to pick out with her shockingly blonde hair, but it’s the beauty next to her that’s drawing attention.
Others around the room are checking her out too, probably trying to decide which family she belongs to or how she fits into those gathered.
It’s difficult to tell from here who looks on in curiosity and who is being judgmental.
Beatrix will surely stop by my house later to rehash every little detail; if she doesn’t snag one of the princess hopefuls for herself, that is.
My cousin plucks two wine glasses from a passing waiter and hands one to Aurelia. I smother a laugh as her eyes widen and she purses her lips after a sip. Lips that were so soft and kissable in such a stunning shade of red lipstick.
Miles chuckles beside me. “Must be the Merlot.”
“Surely Mother sent that out as a trap,” Claus concludes as he finds out who we are watching. All four of us shudder.
Aurelia finds herself caught in conversation with the wretched Lady Wellington.
I’m surprised she doesn’t realize Aurelia’s not one of the prospects, given her obsession with titles and nobility.
I swear that woman has every Emarvian courtier’s family tree memorized, and I’m sure she was no less thorough with tonight’s guest list. My stomach twists as I watch the women, anxiety for Aurelia as she experiences her first vapid society bitch, making me queasy on her behalf.
Thank Christ for my cousin, though, who nabs my sweet little nanny from Lady Wellington’s clutches. Aurelia seems none the worse for the interaction, though, her smile as stunning as ever as Beatrix drags her to hopefully more friendly conversation.
Having a cousin near in age with a penchant for beautiful and sophisticated women serves me well. I know I can trust her judgement when it comes to selecting a potential match.
She leads Aurelia along, apparently understanding the need to protect the shy American after the run-in with one of the worst that high society has to offer.
Their heads bend together as Trixie whispers something that has Aurelia throwing her head back in a laugh that reaches up to the mezzanine and makes my heart slam against my ribs.
I want to hear it again. What makes her laugh like that?
Lorelei yawns, snapping my attention away from the woman who isn’t a part of this charade and yet the one I can’t keep my mind from. “Okay, I’m bored.”
“No one is making you stay,” I reply.
“I know, but I was hoping for a cat fight or something.”
At that moment, a couple of palace guards approach two ladies who promptly begin crying. My youngest sister whispers a cry of anticipation, but is soon disappointed as the women hang their heads and leave without a fuss.
“Damn!” She stands. “You boys have fun picking out a bride for Fritz. I guess Liesel and I will be seeing the better of the offerings next week.”
I grab her hand before she leaves. “Darling Lorelei.” I kiss her knuckles. “Please don’t let me hear about you browsing porn ever again.”
She jerks her hand away. “Ew! Friedrich, that’s so nasty. I was reading about it. I wasn’t looking at porn. Penises are gross.”
Claus and Miles stifle back laughs.
“Keep telling yourself that, baby sister.”
She bends down and kisses my cheek before going to find Anneliese.
As the night wears on, several more ladies are asked to leave, some taking it better than others. A few have to be escorted out by palace security. One particularly beautiful woman is on the verge of making a scene before she is all but dragged from the ballroom.
“That looks like my cue,” Claus announces as he stands and straightens his clothes. “I do like a woman with a little fire in her blood.”
Miles fist bumps my brother on his way out, and I shake my head at the pair of them.
“Don’t encourage him,” I plead.
“Claus hardly needs encouragement.”
“Exactly.”
“Oh, let him have his fun,” my friend admonishes.
“Not when his fun reflects poorly on the rest of us.” I take a long sip of my whiskey.
“Look, Fritz. No one honestly cares what Claus gets up to. No one on the outside, that is. He’s lived in your shadow his whole life. The people forgive him his antics because they know he’ll never be their king.”
“There’s already dissension brewing among the people, Miles. I don’t need my little brother sewing more seeds of distaste towards the monarchy I’m going to inherit by drinking and fucking his way through his twenties.”
Miles squeezes my shoulder. A touch from my best friend is usually enough to still my nerves and quiet my racing thoughts. “That’s still a while off, my friend. Claus will settle down well before then, and the people will have forgotten all about his hijinks.”
I nod and throw back the last of my whiskey. That time, when the throne will become mine, is sooner than anyone knows outside our closest circle, even Miles. Hell, even Trixie has suspicions as she watches her uncle shrink before her, but she’s not in on the whole truth.
I shake those thoughts away, and my attention returns to the remaining women.
There are perhaps seventy left, still quite the number, but it’s much easier to pick out individuals now.
I note a few who start stumbling a bit, maybe from too much wine, and take mental note of them.
I watch one woman as she subtly shifts herself throughout her exchange with a member of parliament until she is practically standing in front of another woman, shutting her out of the conversation.
Also noted. I try to see beyond the superficial as I watch each interaction, but can only discern so much from such a vantage point.
I watch, focus on body language and facial expressions, the way they stand, how they hold their hands.
I find myself thinking of my mother, my highest standard of womanhood and regality.
I suppose no one stands up to her lofty measure, but some fall woefully short.
And none hold a candle to a certain nanny who has no interest in Prince Friedrich and is supposed to be just for fun.