Chapter Three
CHAPTER THREE
‘We haven’t been able to disprove it, but we’ve only had a couple of hours.
’ Matthias was grim as he met Benedikt’s gaze across the desk.
‘The priest who supposedly officiated at the wedding was the priest at that church on that date. He’s retired but still lives nearby.
The other witnesses, including the Grand Duchess, still live in Edelforst.’
‘And?’ There had to be more.
‘I spoke to the priest. A trusted staff member is heading there in person to conduct an interview, but I knew you’d want an initial report.’
Benedikt nodded, appreciating his assistant’s thoroughness but wishing he’d get to the point.
‘You’re not going to like this. The old man said he remembered the ceremony perfectly. He said it was the honour of a lifetime to marry the Crown Prince to the Princess he’d baptised in the very same church.’
Benedikt fell back in his seat, the air expelling forcibly from his lungs.
Was there no end to this nightmare?
He’d known Annalena of Edelforst was trouble from the moment she marched into this room and the floor shifted beneath his feet.
He’d put that visceral response down to tiredness from overwork.
Taking over the labyrinthine mechanics of his father’s commercial empire and trying to separate it from royal responsibilities and assets was even harder than he’d anticipated.
His father had melded the two, running private business interests and the country to benefit himself and his cronies.
Even his staff ran the country like a private fiefdom.
Then in strides Princess Annalena, who it seemed really was who she claimed, accusing him of being a usurper.
And his father of murder.
Benedikt had detested his father. The man had all but destroyed Benedikt’s mother and set an example to his son of the sort of man he didn’t want to become.
But murder? Even Karl wouldn’t stoop to that.
Yet Benedikt felt a niggle of unease.
King Karl had been inflexible, selfish and devious despite his outward charm. Every stone Benedikt turned over, stepping into his shoes, revealed something questionable if not downright corrupt.
Grabbing the arms of his chair, he scooted forward, leaning across the desk. ‘Did the priest give a reason for keeping the wedding secret?’
‘The Prince and the bride’s mother, the Grand Duchess, swore him to secrecy. He only talked now because the Grand Duchess said that after all this time, if he were asked he should tell the truth.’
‘The truth!’ Benedikt shot to his feet, shoving his chair back and stalking away. ‘It’s all a lie.’
‘I did manage to track down the other witnesses.’
Benedikt spun around, but from Matthias’s expression he knew that wasn’t good news.
‘Apart from the Grand Duchess, there were two. One was and still is her lady-in-waiting. I haven’t spoken to either of them. I thought that was better done in person.’
Benedikt nodded. If the old lady was part of this scheme they’d have to tread carefully. As for her lady-in-waiting, she’d do whatever her mistress ordered. Who even had ladies-in-waiting any more?
‘And the other witness? His name seemed familiar.’
‘I spoke to him by phone. He had the same story as the priest. Brought in to witness a wedding but asked not to reveal the details until now.’
‘How did he sound? Plausible?’
Matthias pinched the bridge of his nose before meeting Benedikt’s gaze. ‘Very. He was a lawyer then. He’s now a judge with a reputation for probity and fairness. His name was familiar because he’s on our list to help manage your programme of law reform.’
A harsh laugh escaped Benedikt. ‘The old lady really pulled out all the stops with this plot, didn’t she?’
‘If it’s a lie, it’s a very good one. But we’ve only just started investigating. Face-to-face interviews might yield different results. Plus we have to examine the original documents.’
‘I want someone to dig out all available information on Prince Christian’s car smash.’ Benedikt paused, hating the hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach. ‘Do we have my father’s diaries for the period?’
Like his predecessors, King Karl had kept a daily diary of royal business.
‘No. Apparently your father only began the practice after he was crowned. And, instead of writing it himself, he had his secretary note down key business.’
So there’d be no confessions about crimes he might have committed. Benedikt didn’t know whether to be pleased or disappointed.
‘Thanks, Matthias.’ Benedikt leaned one hip against the desk. ‘Keep me informed of progress.’
This couldn’t have come at a worse time, in the lead up to his coronation. Maybe that was why they’d chosen it.
‘Have you decided what you’re going to do?’
Benedikt met his sympathetic stare. ‘What can I do except find out what really happened?’
Unlike his father, he didn’t brush aside inconvenient truths. If her story were true…
It didn’t bear thinking about.
Prinzenberg was in a worse state than he’d thought, public monies siphoned off to private individuals and a whiff of corruption where there was big money to be made.
Benedikt had worked hard to prepare himself to become King one day but it would take all his skills, knowledge and time to set his country on the right track again.
The idea that a woman who’d never been near the royal court, much less the machinery of government, could take his place…it made his blood run cold.
Prinzenberg couldn’t afford an amateur. It needed strong, strategic government. Benedikt was far from perfect but he was a highly successful businessman, thanks to his grandfather’s mentoring, and he’d been raised to understand politics, public service and foreign diplomacy.
Matthias inclined his head in the direction of the room where Annalena awaited his return. ‘And the Princess?’
Benedikt rolled tight shoulders. ‘Let me worry about her.’ He opened a desk drawer, reaching for headache tablets. ‘Believe me, you’ve got the easier job.’
‘Frankly, my dear, I’d never realised the practical implications of your career. It’s fascinating, the work you’re doing.’
Colonel Ditmar smiled warmly before taking a bite of cherry pastry. As a child she’d known him well, the kindly man with an engaging twinkle who always had time for a rather lonely little girl.
She hadn’t seen him for years, though he still visited her grandmother. Seeing him reminded her how time marched on. He had the same upright bearing, bushy moustache and gravelly voice, but his moustache and hair were white now, and his face, like her grandmother’s, was lined by age.
Annalena had been raised by a generation older than the parents she’d never known. It struck her how precious her time with those dear people was.
She shoved aside the thought of a world without her amazing Oma, instead recounting for the colonel an amusing story about a field trip fraught with complications.
His laughter eased the tension knotting her shoulder blades. It almost made her forget they shared coffee and cake not in her grandmother’s elegant sitting room, but in an ostentatious salon full of ornate gilding and uncomfortable chairs.
Was there any room in the sprawling palace designed for comfort rather than show? She felt the constraining shadow of King Karl and his son in the very walls.
As if on cue, a door in the white and gilt panelling swung open and a tall figure appeared. Wide shoulders filled the space, then in stepped the man who called himself King.
Easier to think of him in those terms than as Benedikt.
That was too dangerously informal. Annalena didn’t have his measure.
She didn’t believe he’d resort to violence like his father but she didn’t trust him.
She couldn’t let down her guard. Not when in one short interview he’d completely upset her equilibrium.
Upset it? The first time their eyes met it felt like an earthquake resonating from the pit of her stomach, overwhelming her body in waves of… What? Yearning? Recognition?
She roped in dismay. It would take a remarkable man to make Annalena yearn at first sight.
Her parents had fallen for each other at first sight.
Far from finding that sweet or inspirational, for Annalena that had been a cautionary tale.
Their love had been doomed, leaving her mother a widow while still a bride.
Then she’d died of a broken heart as much as from illness, leaving her daughter orphaned.
No wonder Annalena had never dreamt of romance. As for being swept off her feet…!
No, Benedikt might be remarkable but, she told herself, for all the wrong reasons.
Yet as he crossed the room, a warm smile easing his features as he greeted the colonel, Annalena felt something . A fluttering in her chest. The suspicion of an ache that for a moment left her breathless.
She watched him shake the old man’s hand, refusing to let him rise from his seat, though protocol demanded it. Or would if he really were King.
Annalena swallowed convulsively as unease raised goosebumps across her skin. She’d done the right thing, revealing the secret of her birth. Every other avenue they’d tried had failed. But had she unleashed something larger than she’d imagined?
He turned, eyes appraising, and suspicion solidified into an atavistic fear that she’d set in motion something she couldn’t control.
‘Princess Annalena, I hope you’ve enjoyed your afternoon tea.’
She inclined her head, refusing to use the title he claimed. ‘Thank you, yes. The colonel and I are old friends. It’s been wonderful to catch up. Such a coincidence we should be visiting the palace at the same time.’
And such a convenient way for you to check I really am who I say. The colonel wouldn’t be fooled by an imposter.
One dark eyebrow rose and she had the unnerving sense her opponent read her mind.
She almost wished he could. He had such a confident air it would do him good to realise it took more than good looks to impress a thinking woman.