She didn’t say anything in reply to him. Their food came and still she said nothing.
“Will you see Heather again?” she asked at last.
“I’m going to go out with every woman in the southeastern U.S. And you? You going to marry your little count?”
“Really!” she said, her eyes glaring into his. “Sometimes you can be most infantile. Count Julian is a perfectly suitable man and he will make an excellent prince consort. Better than you could do.”
“Better than I could do? Let me tell you, baby, what this backward place of yours needs is a shot of new blood. You’d be lucky if I stayed with you, but I wouldn’t have this place on a platinum platter. There’s a war going on out there, but these people are so wrapped up in their own petty problems that they don’t even see anyone else’s.”
“We are not involved in a war and that is what is wrong with us?” she seethed. “You aggressive, angry Americans could learn a lot from our peaceful country. We don’t destroy ourselves and other countries with our war machines.”
“Because you don’t fight for anything. You just let the outside world take care of you. You’re willing to profit from the war by selling the vanadium but you aren’t willing to sacrifice your men for soldiers.”
“Are you calling us cowards? Our country was founded by the greatest warriors in the world. In 874 A.D. we—”
“What the hell do I care about your history? Now you’re a bundle of lily-livered extortionists with a petticoat ruler.”
At that she rose and slapped him hard before storming out of the dining room. She ran out of the hotel and into the street, into the cool night air, past people who looked as if they were seeing a ghost, down one street after another. She had no idea where she was going. Her experience of the streets of Escalon was limited to rides in ceremonial carriages. When she was a little girl, she thought the driver merely followed the trail of rose petals to get where he was going.
How could she have considered that man as prince consort? How could she have allowed bed pleasure to influence her rational thinking? He was the pigheaded, intolerant bigot she had first thought he was. She was quite willing to learn American ways and to see thoughts and ideas through American eyes, but he could see no other way than his own. His country was very young, with an adolescent’s energies. America wanted power and was willing to kill for it. Her country was old and had learned the power of peace. At one point her ancestors had ruled a big portion of Europe and Russia. In fact, the reason her family was in power was because they had bred the largest, strongest warriors.
Yet this American had called them cowards! Extortionists!
She walked for a long time, not seeing where she was going, just walking and cursing herself for being such a fool.
She halted when she ran into someone. “Excuse me,” she said, still using the American expression. She looked into the eyes of her Lord High Chamberlain. He was an arrogant man who expected the streets to clear when he walked them. Intelligence burned in his black eyes.
Aria wanted him to see her and to remember her. “Path not wide enough for you, bub?” she said. “You knock ladies into the street here?”
He drew back from her as if she were a bit of fungus.
Aria leaned forward and put her hands on his badge of office. “Hey! Are you royalty or somethin’? What’s that say on there? Is that Latin? We have Latin in America. Do you know the princess? People here say I look like her, but I don’t think I do, but I was thinkin’ maybe I could borrow a crown of hers and have my picture taken. It’ll be real funny back home. How much do you think she’d charge to rent one of her crowns? Or maybe she’d just loan it bein’ as we look alike an’ all. What d’ya think, buster?”
The Lord High Chamberlain flared his nostrils at her and moved away.
“That’s no way to treat an American citizen,” she yelled after him, disturbing the tranquil street. “We own your country, you know. You ought to be nice to us.”
People looked out of their doors and windows at her.
“I’m gonna report you to the American ambassador,” she said loudly, then turned to an openmouthed bystander and demanded directions to the embassy.
It was after midnight when she arrived and she was surprised to see every light in the building on. Someone must have been watching the entrance because the door opened before she reached it.
A large, matronly woman who was desperately trying to hold on to her figure via the use of rigid corsets swooped into the room like a decorated snow shovel and ushered Aria up the
stairs.
“Oh my dear,” the woman said. “I mean, Your Royal Highness, it has been dreadful here. How could the American government do such a thing to you? You poor, poor darling.”
“What has happened?” Aria asked, standing in the big bedroom, surrounded by sumptuous blue silk wall coverings and darker blue silk bed hangings. The Americans didn’t skimp on their embassies.
“My goodness,” the woman gushed. “Everything has happened. We didn’t have much notice that you were coming, and with the war and all it was difficult to get what we needed. But I did manage a nightgown for you. It’s made by French nuns and the sewing is exquisite. I do hope you like it, although I am sure it’s not the quality you’re used to.”
“What has happened?” Aria insisted.
“That man was here, that awful man my own government married you to.”
“Lieutenant Montgomery? Is he here now?”