Chapter 36
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"Ah............... my lady!"
The maid Tali burst into Fiona's bedroom, calling out breathlessly for her master, who was now in the middle of the night after a late night of drinking with the singers she had socialized with last night.
"We're in trouble, we're in trouble!"
Fiona turned away from the irritating maid and pulled the covers over her head.
"Lady, get up!"
"What the hell is wrong with you?"
Fiona cringed, hugging the cushions tighter, hoping to catch up on the sleep she hadn't gotten up to this point.
"Tho, Thomas.................. Thomas..................."
"Who's Thomas?"
Fiona demanded, her temples throbbing from her hangover.
"A detective I know, the one who did the background check on that bitch."
Turning slowly, Fiona glanced over her shoulder at the maid. Her glossy, voluminous auburn hair and her once beautiful white skin were dull from frequent drinking, and the eyes looking at Tali were lifeless.
"That detective. Did he finally find out her biological father?"
The tone was sarcastic, not trusting.
It had cost her three gold bars, which the maid had used to get the information from the servants of the high nobility, saying it was expensive to extract information from them. It had been two days ago that she'd taken a hundred pounds for a final confirmation that she was so close to the truth.
She was a living, breathing con man.
"He died, yesterday."
"..."
Fiona sat up shakily. The dullness drained from her cloudy eyes.
"It was a carriage accident.”
"Then what happens to my gold coins?"
Fiona’s cheeks, pillow-marked with rising anger, spread wide. The news of a random accident made her suspect that the unknown detective and the maid had been playing games.
"Uh-oh, Miss. It's not the gold coins that's the problem here. The coachman says he jumped in, all of a sudden."
The blue-eyed maid quickly added.
"Thomas never ran in the rain, and to run at his size means.................. someone was chasing him, that's for sure; he was being chased."
"Probably a debt collector."
"..."
"He was probably drunk, coming out of a gambling house. Am I wrong?"
Fiona glared at the maid with narrowed eyes.
"What are you going to do about my precious gold coins?"
Fiona's yelling echoed through the townhouse.
Tali grew frustrated. No matter how she thought about it, this wasn't the time to be stingy with her gold coins. Thomas was a good informant, despite his gambling addiction, and his sudden death made no sense.
"If I knew I was going to lose all that gold, I should have done it myself. It's my own fault for trusting you with my life. It’s blinding me, so go fix the curtains!"
Fiona shooed Tali away and pulled the covers back over her head.
Tali trudged over to the window.
Despite the unusually clear morning sky for Grita's winter weather, a vague sense of unease hung like a dark cloud over Tali's mind.
***
There was a flash of silver outside the car window as the ultramarine blue four-wheeled carriage pulled up to the front door of the Royal Palace Hotel.
Blinded, Christine squeezed her eyes shut and took a slow, deep breath.
The press had gathered like clouds.
It was nothing compared to the press conference for Camellia.
She suddenly realized what she was dealing with.
Christine let go of her lower lip and checked her outfit. Everything on her body was unfamiliar.
From head to toe.
Everything belonged to the Crown Prince.
As if on cue, a bellboy in a purple uniform politely opened the door, followed by the hotel manager in a black frock coat, who bowed.
Taking in all the unnecessary emotions, Christine gently took the manager's outstretched hand.
Her silver satin shoes barely took a step, and camera flashes popped everywhere, stinging her eyes.
"How do you feel now, Miss Peildon? Tell me one thing!"
"Miss Peildon, just one look here!"
Turning away from the shouts of the reporters, Christine was escorted by the Royal Guard into the grand stone building. Upon entering the high-ceilinged lobby, Christine was momentarily dazed by the opulence that surrounded her.
"Your coat, my lady."
The waiter's voice brought her back to reality, and she handed over her muff and coat. Smoothing the hem of her dress, she was escorted by the hostess across the spacious restaurant hall where the Crown Prince awaited.
She was dazzled by the sunlight pouring in from the large windows, making the vast space glow like crystal.
As calm as possible, back straight, shoulders back.
Christine kept repeating to herself as she moved forward.
Her light footsteps echoed on the marble floor as the orchestra played sweet music. Arthur's head turned slowly from where he was gazing through the arched glass windows.
The woman was dressed in a fashionable winter woolen dress. She was quite beautiful in her black gown, daintily decorated with frills and ribbons.
Her warm, cream-colored sheepskin gloves and felt hat, which revealed her face without a veil, were very well matched.
And so were the silver shoes that appeared and disappeared with each crossing of her little feet as the hem of her dress swayed.
Now she was starting to live up to her title as the Crown Prince's lover.
The only regret was that her thin, pale neck still looked empty. But more than that, it only fueled the interest of the social circles, where even the smallest rumors were blown out of proportion.
Judging by the throngs of reporters already gathered outside the hotel.
If that was what the Duke of Deimos wanted, it was not a bad idea to join in for a while.
If she was one of his person, then it was only a matter of disrupting his intelligence network with false information.
***
The lullaby had a definite effect.
On young Christine.
And on this man.
Sometime that night, arms folded and legs crossed, the Crown Prince fell asleep. The night was as silent as the snow falling outside the window. In his defenseless slumber, he looked almost like a boy.
"Sit down."
The tone was casual, as if to wake up the woman who was staring at him blankly after curtsied. Sensing the rudeness, Christine bowed her head in apology and sat down quietly.
"The gift you sent. Thank you. Your Highness."
"I thought the least formality was in order."
The Crown Prince held up a thin-necked glass of champagne and met her gaze.
Christine felt her ears burn hot.
The Royal Palace Hotel.
A prestigious place where royalty and great nobles visiting Bern stayed. A world away from her poverty-stricken existence. A man who spent a fortune on a dress and jewelry just to have lunch in such a place, and a woman who wore them to sit across from him.
She felt like she had become the Crown Prince's mistress.
It was humiliating and upsetting, but Christine kept her face calm.
"And this."
The Crown Prince pushed a small box on the table in front of her. After glancing down at the olive-colored velvet box and up at the Crown Prince, Christine carefully opened it.
Christine's eyes widened.
"I didn't think I'd find it, but............thank you so much. Your Highness."
Arthur let out a dry laugh.
The temperature difference between her gratitude for his gift and her gratitude for finding her old gloves was palpable. There was no pretense in the reddened eyes and the slight trembling in the voice.
Perhaps it was a valuable object, but Arthur's interest was limited.
Briefly stopping the approaching waiter, Arthur poured the aperitif himself, skillfully filling Christine's glass. Then, with a quick nod, he ordered the waiting waiter to bring the food.
Moments later, the black-uniformed staff filled the table with an array of colorful foods Christine had never seen before.
Appetizers, colorful salads, soups with fish fillets. Buttery, golden-brown scallops, steaks cooked to perfection. Foie gras mousse, and...................
The familiarity of the objects made her feel better, but the endless parade of silver domes baffled her.
But there was something else that baffled her even more: the array of cutlery in front of her.
"Don't be nervous, Christine, if you're confused, just follow His Highness’s lead.”
Daisy's voice drifted across the sumptuous luncheon table, bathed in clear afternoon sunlight.
***
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