“He’s gone?” Amy tried to fight the panic that rose in her breast.
“Only for a few days, dear.” Letty patted her shoulder. “I know you’ll miss him, but absence does make the heart grow fonder.”
“It’s not that I miss him,” Amy objected. “It’s just that, who knows what kind of disaster I’ll make of things?”
Letty looked thoughtful. “You need Prince Wilhelm here to protect you.”
“Exactly.” Amy flopped down on the wing chair in her room. “God help me. “My foremothers are spinning in their graves.”
Letty clicked her tongue against her teeth. “Nonsense, child. There are times when only one person fully understands the role you are expected to fulfill, and he is not here. It isn’t weak for you to be afraid. It is normal.”
Amy’s eyes filled with burning gratitude. “Thank you.” But she was still uncomfortable with Will’s absence. She understood why a funeral would cause him to leave unexpectedly, but so quickly that he couldn’t even say goodbye? Not that she felt he owed her an explanation or anything, but she had kind of felt they were getting closer. Forget the kiss—he had been so sensitive to her, so caring. It just didn’t seem like him to up and leave without a word like that.
Then again, she didn’t really know him.
“Let’s prepare you for the week ahead, shall we?” Letty said with confidence.
“Thanks, Letty. I don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t here.”
“It wasn’t easy to get along without you, either, my child. I’m so very glad you’re back. If only your mama were here…” Letty’s voice trailed off and for a moment she appeared lost in time. Then she snapped back and said, “We must find your dress for the ball.” She went to the closet and threw open the door. “Did you bring something formal?”
“Yes,” Amy began. “It’s in the closet.”
“Where?” Letty asked, moving the hangers full of clothes aside one by one. “Is it in here?” She took the formal gown Amy had bought from Burdell’s last month and moved it aside along with the rest. “I don’t see it.”
Amy’s face grew warm as she reached in and pulled out the dress Letty had just moved aside. “Here it is.” Letty looked at the simple black dress, then at Amy. “This? Oh, no, no, no, my dear. This will never do.”
“Why not? Isn’t it fancy enough?”
“That is a cocktail dress,” Letty explained. “What you need is a formal ball gown. Let me see what I can do.” She lifted the telephone receiver and punched in three numbers, then spoke in German to someone on the other end of the line. When she hung up, she turned to Amy and said, “Fear not. You will have a dress by tomorrow.”
“From where?”
“I’m having Lufthania’s finest designer, Eldine, bring some dresses over for you.”
“That’s really not necessary—”
Letty would hear none of that. “I wonder if you’d also like something done to your hair.” She flipped her fingers through Amy’s long, straight hair.
Amy had to laugh. She wasn’t insulted by Letty’s suggestion. Her friends had told her more than once that it looked more like 1970s Cher than was flattering. “You know, Letty,” she said, “I’m up for anything. In fact, I’d welcome a change.”
“How exciting!” Letty exclaimed. “Then I shall have the hairdresser, a manicurist and an aesthetician come in. Oh, and I’ll have Eldine bring several designs for you, not just ball gowns.”
“Are you sure Prince Wilhelm won’t mind?” Amy asked.
“Darling,” Letty said, beaming at Amy. “He will be delighted. Trust me.”
Two days later, Amy’s hair was about six inches shorter, cut into flattering layers that framed her face. Her skin was smooth and glowing from the facial Letty had arranged, and she had a closet full of expensive designer clothes that fit her as if they had been sewn for her alone. What’s more, Eldine refused to accept any payment for them, which Amy thought was incredibly generous. Letty said later that Eldine knew that the exposure she would get with Amy wearing her clothes was far better than any advertising she could pay for, but Amy was still touched by the gesture.
She was feeling much more confident that evening as she sat in the window seat of her room, watching the snow drift slowly down and sipping Letty’s wonderful hot chocolate.
She was waiting for Letty to bring her a refill when there was a knock on her door.
“Come on in, Letty, you don’t need to knock.” She turned on the window seat just as the door opened and Will came in.
His glossy dark hair was mussed, as if it had been a long day and he hadn’t bothered to look in a mirror. He was still wearing a dark wool overcoat, which was dotted with snow, and there was a weariness in his eyes that she hadn’t seen before.
“Letty is giving us some time alone,” he said. “You can ring for her later.”
“Is everything all right?” Amy asked.
“Your DNA test results have come back.” He produced a torn envelope from his pocket.
Suddenly she didn’t want to know. She hadn’t begun to think of herself as royalty, but the faces in the paintings Will had shown her had become her friends. In the two days he’d been gone, she must have returned to the portrait hall at least a half a dozen times, studying the faces and wondering if it was truly possible that they were her family.
They had begun to feel like kin, though it was possible that she felt that way out of the sheer power of wanting to belong. The imagination was a powerful thing, especially when combined with her heart’s desire to know where she came from.
“May I sit down?” Will asked, indicating the chair opposite her.
“Of course,” she said, pulling her robe closer to her.
“Are you cold?” He took his coat off and held it out to her.
“No, I’m not cold. I’m just a little…” Scared? Hopeful? Both? She didn’t bother to try to articulate her feelings. “Are those the results there?” She pointed to the envelope.
“They are.” It was obvious the envelope had been opened in haste. He handed it to her but said, “The details are in German but the conclusion is clear.”
“And…?” She swallowed hard.
He looked at her, as if seeing her for the first time. His gaze, though weary, was penetrating. “And you are the Princess Amelia.”
Her breath left her in one long, shuddering stream. “Are you sure?” she asked, barely daring to hope. “Is there any chance there could be a mistake?”
“The test result accuracy exceeds 99.99 percent,” he said. “They tested sixteen markers, then ran all exclusions twice for confirmation. There is no mistake.”
She didn’t fully understand the science of it. She’d been more interested in English in school. But his conclusion, and the conclusion of the lab, was clear. “Do you promise me,” she said, her voice weak with emotion, “that you haven’t fudged the results in order to get the princess you need so desperately?”
He laughed so spontaneously that she had to believe it was sincere. “Amé, if I were so desperate for a princess that I would go to those measures, I assure you I could have found a much more willing and predictable candidate than you.”
She had to smile. “I guess you’re right.”
“I promise you,” he said, looking deeply into her eyes. “I would not lie to you.”
Her breath caught in her throat, but she tried to keep things light. “Is that right? Franz?”
His face colored slightly. “You have my word that I will never attempt to deceive you again.”
She believed him. “So what happens now?”
“That is up to you. I want you to stay. But you are not a captive here. You must listen to your heart and decide from that.”
She gave a laugh. “My heart has been unreliable lately.”
“Oh?” He looked interested. “In what way?”
She felt her face grow warm. “That doesn’t matter. The real issue here is whether I stay in Lufthania and honor my biological family or if I should go back to the United States where my real family is.”
“Must the two be mutually exclusive? I’ve told you that you can send for your family and have them live here with you.”
She tried to imagine how her parents would react to that, but she couldn’t. There was a possibility they would be willing. But if they weren’t, and she had to move three thousand miles away from them, that would be a difficult decision to make.
“They already live some distance from you, don’t they?” he asked, as if reading her mind.
“They do,” she conceded. They’d only moved to Florida three months ago, but they seemed to enjoy it, so there was little hope that they’d move back to Maryland. And there was no way on earth Amy was going to move to a tropical climate, no matter how much she loved her parents.
So that wasn’t really a consideration.
“What is it, Amé?” he asked, taking her hands in his. “Why do you hesitate?”
She thought about it for a moment before answering. “Because the princess aspect of this is still unbelievable to me,” she said. Her eyes suddenly burned with tears. “I can’t tell you how much it means to me to find out who my parents were. It was so painful all of those years, knowing that they had died anonymously and believing that there was no one in the world who cared about their—well, our—fate.” She brushed tears off her cheeks.
“Can you remember them at all?”
She shook her head. “I don’t think so. Now and then I have these moments when I have what feels like a memory, but I can’t quite grasp it. A scent might trigger it. Or a few notes of music. It might sound crazy, but even a particular kind of day, when it’s dreary and gray and the trees are like skeletons against the sky, almost reminds me of something, but as soon as I try to think about it, it’s gone. And I feel lost all over again.”
“You aren’t lost anymore, Amé.” There was sorrow in his eyes, but warmth and tenderness, too. “You are found.” He cupped his hand on her cheek. “Finally.”
She put her hand on his. “It’s hard to really believe.” She swallowed. “I mean, it’s hard to accept, you know? I’ve spent a lifetime with this uncertainty. It’s hard to believe all those huge questions are finally answered. I keep waiting for the other shoe to fall.”
“There is no other shoe.” He went to her and knelt before her, taking her hands in his. “Unless it is a glass slipper.”
She rolled her eyes. “For that, you need a handsome prince.”
He drew back.
It took her a moment to realize what she’d said. “Oh! Will, I didn’t mean you weren’t—”
“I’m not,” he said seriously, releasing her hands and standing up. “I’m no Prince Charming.”
“Yes you are,” she insisted. “That’s exactly what you are. All I meant was that…I…well, I haven’t had the best of luck with men.”
Will sat down on the chair. “What was his name? Ben something?”
“Singer,” she supplied, leaning back heavily. She didn’t want to think about Ben right now. “And he doesn’t matter anymore.”
“If you say so.”
She hated to give Ben credit for anything at this point, including her mistrust in relationships, though he probably had some role to play in that. But the more obvious problem for her was that of losing her parents at three and never seeing them again, apparently not even understanding the explanations given to her in English right after the accident. It wasn’t hard to see how a person might develop a fear of abandonment after something like that.
The frustrating thing was that recognizing it didn’t seem to take her very far on the path to overcoming it.
Rather than dissect her psyche, though, she decided to turn the tables on Will. “What about you?” she asked.
“What about me?”
“You’re awfully quick to question me on my romantic history, but you don’t say much about your own.”
He shrugged. “There isn’t much to say.” His face was so handsome by the low light of her bedroom that she couldn’t even imagine that there wasn’t a lot to say.
And she wanted to hear every word of it.
“Somehow I find it hard to believe,” she said, “that Prince Wilhelm, idol of women all over Europe, thinks there isn’t much to say about his romantic life. I’ll bet if I looked in the newspaper archives, I’d find plenty.”
“You wouldn’t find anything pleasant,” he said, his voice grim. He stood up. “It’s time for me to go.”
“Wait.” She immediately felt bad for touching a nerve. She stood and went to him. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have teased you.”
He touched her hand and hesitated for a moment before saying, “I was engaged several years back. My fiancée was killed in an accident. That is what you’d find in the newspaper archives.”
“I’m so sorry.” She’d been known to put her foot in her mouth before, but this was the worst. She put her hand on his forearm. “Honestly, I had no idea.”
He looked at her hand, then shifted his gaze to her eyes. A long moment passed, with only heartbeats between them.
“I know,” he said at last, disengaging himself from her touch. “Tomorrow morning we will discuss the formal announcement to be made at the winter ball. Please make a decision as to what you intend to do.”
She nodded, still feeling just awful about opening that wound for him. “I will.”
He gave a curt nod. “I’ll send Franz for you around ten.”
“Sure.” She stood awkwardly, wishing he wouldn’t go yet. She wanted to say something—anything—to smooth things over with him and just make it feel like it did before. But no words came to her.
He turned to leave.
“Will, please…”
He stopped and turned back. “Yes?” His voice was impersonal, as if every inch of physical distance between them added a degree of chill to their relationship.
“Was she…were you…” She was going to say close, but what a foolish question that would be. Of course they were close, they were engaged. Frantically, she searched for something else to say. “I just wanted to say I’m really, really sorry.”
He gave a tight smile. “I’ll see you in the morning, Amé.”
“See you.” She gave a small wave.
He left and she stood, holding her breath for a moment before flopping down on the bed. What an incredibly awkward situation that had been. She’d marched headlong into it but found herself completely unable to retreat. She hated that she’d put him on the spot that way.
How could she hold a highly visible public position when she wasn’t even capable of smoothing over an uncomfortable moment in a private conversation?
She went to the window and looked out at the moonlit valley, the snow glowing like phosphorescence through the dark. It was so beautiful it made her ache.
And maybe…just maybe…it was familiar. Something about the curve of the hill to the west, and the way the trees were sprinkled like chocolate jimmies over the white-ice-cream mountains brought her a deep sense of peace and happiness. She’d been here before, back before she knew what sadness and loneliness were. Before she knew what it was like to lose someone, or to be afraid.
This was home.
Suddenly she knew it. This was home. She’d looked out this very window twenty-five years before, her mother’s warm breath on her neck, pointing a slender finger to the hills and saying…Amy concentrated. What had her mother said to her? Words she didn’t understand floated around in her head. Mein herz…
Mein herz ist immer hier mit Ihnen.
It rang, as clear as a bell, in her mind.
But what did it mean?
She made a mental note to ask someone tomorrow and returned her thoughts to the situation at hand.
She was Princess Amelia Louisa Gretchen May. It didn’t matter that she didn’t feel as if she was, the medical evidence had proved it.
And the facts bore it out. Had it not been for the princess element, she could have believed Will’s story much sooner. The puzzle pieces fit together—a couple, leaving their war-torn country with a baby in tow, trying to keep their anonymity so that no one knew who they were. There could not be worse circumstances under which to have a fatal accident, but they had, and it had resulted in the very strange predicament of a princess being raised in a small-town American family, with no idea of who she was or where she came from.
It was hard to believe, but truth was, as they said, stranger than fiction.
Amy’s truth was just stranger than any fiction she’d ever read.
But none of that mattered. She knew where she came from now, and she knew what she had to do about it. Her family had loved her, she was certain of it. And they had loved this country. It was her moral duty to carry on as they would have, if they could have. It was her duty to take the throne back, in honor of her mother and her father and her grandparents, and in honor of everyone who had loved them and sworn allegiance to them.
Not that she thought she could offer what her family before her could have. She couldn’t. But maybe, just by the fact of her being, the fact of her surviving, she could give some people hope.
Plus she could help Will do what he felt the country needed. Amy trusted Will. She trusted his opinion and judgment. If he thought he could make a positive change for the people of Lufthania, but only if Amy took over his position as monarch, she would do it.
After all, it didn’t mean abandoning her old life. She could bring her parents here. Her friends. Heck, she could even continue to conduct her business from the computer if she wanted to.
A cold, hard look at her life told her that there really wasn’t that much to miss if she moved. And it wasn’t as if she was moving to another planet, anyway. If she wanted to go back to Maryland she could do so at any time. Maybe not to live, not once the announcement was made that she was Princess Amelia, but she could visit as often as she wanted. If she wanted.
Although she’d enjoyed her business tremendously, it wasn’t as if it had made her feel truly worthwhile in the grand scheme of things. Being self-sufficient was a good feeling, but it didn’t make a difference in other peoples’ lives. Now she had that opportunity.
She was going to take it. And she was going to take it with gusto. She would give it her all, as she had never done before. If she didn’t succeed, in the end no one would be able to accuse her of not trying her best.
Life had given her a brilliant opportunity and she’d hung back like a whiny child, afraid to touch it for fear it would disappear.
Well, it wasn’t disappearing.
And neither was she.