Page 7 of The Duke's Price
“I have in mind to pack instead,” Perry explained. “Rather than watch you succeed with both governess and pupil, I shall take up my travels again.” This time, he tried for mournful, and succeeded in so far as Carlos laughed out loud.
“If you must,” he said. None of the polite remonstrances Perry had expected to have to deflect. Undoubtedly, Carlo wanted a potential rival out of the principality before Miss Henwood had second thoughts.
“Pack, then, my friend,” Carlos said. “I shall go out with the hunters for a few hours. I will not be going far. It is the weekly audience this afternoon. I would not wish to disappoint my people.”
Carlos did not want to disappoint himself. The weekly audience was an opportunity for him to dress in his fanciest uniform and sit on a throne-like chair dispensing justice and favours in the castle’s grand hall.
“I’ll come to the audience and watch, shall I?” Perry suggested, and Carlos invited him to please himself.
Perry returned to his chambers and spent some time making plans with his valet and writing notes. He then sent out two of his couriers. There. Once he was out of Las Estrellas, all would be ready for him and for his people.
A walk around the castle failed to satisfy, as he saw neither Miss Henwood nor the princess. He repaired to the castle’s excellent library, chose a book to take back to his chambers, and spent a couple of pleasant hours reading.
The hunt returned triumphant. From his window, Perry could see that they’d caught and killed two of the wolves that were apparently haunting the near slopes of the mountains, poor foolish creatures. Carlos might be a cad and a potential tyrant, but he was an excellent leader of men, as successful in the huntas he had been in the mountain war of attrition against the French.
And he had the loyalty of the Spanish guerillas who had survived the war in Spain and followed him home. It would not do to underestimate the hunt that would certainly start as soon as the princess was missed.
When it was nearly time for the audience, Perry went down to the grand hall, and congratulated Carlos on the success of the hunt.
Carlos waved him to the row of chairs set for the duque’s advisors, but Perry laughed and took up a position leaning against the wall near the windows. Not coincidentally, that part of the room had the best view of the door through to the private residence section of the castle, and he was not disappointed. He saw Miss Henwood and Princess Isabella, pausing in the hall outside the door, waiting for Carlos to take his chair and ask for the first supplicant.
It was only then that they entered the audience chamber.
Of course, every seated person in the room stood and bowed or curtseyed when the princess appeared, Carlos and his closest aide, Iago Rodriguez Garcia, a second or two behind the rest. Princess Isabella responded with a smile and a curtsey of her own, took the seat that had been placed just below Carlos’s dais, and said, “Please be seated, everyone. Good day, uncle. My apologies for my lateness. Please, carry on.”
Miss Henwood was sitting with the advisors. Interesting. Would Carlos challenge her?
He didn’t. He just waved a hand at the petitioner who had been about to step forward. “Continue.”
Probably wise. Rebuking Miss Henwood would make him look petty, and he never liked people to witness his petty moments. Carlos’s definition of people did not include women, servants, or anyone else whose opinion he didn’t care about.
To be fair to the bastard, he did a good job of the audience. With his supporters watching, he carefully considered each matter brought before him, occasionally consulting the advisers. As far as Perry could tell, his judgements made sense, and if he was a little harsher with farmers than with merchants and with merchants than with nobles, no one appeared to think anything of it.
“If that is all,” Carlos said, at last.
The princess stood. “Honoured sir. I have a favour to ask.”
Once again, every seated person in the room stood, and the princess glided to stand in the petitioner’s position before Carlos.
“You have?” Carlos glanced at the advisers, and his lips spread in a smile that did not reach his eyes. “What might I do for you, my dear Isabella?”
“Sir,” said the princess, lowering her eyelids demurely. “As you know, I face a great change in my life. I wish to spend the weekend in the monastery with the nuns, praying that I will be a good wife and mother. I wrote to Madre Katerina, and have received her approval for myself and Miss Henwood, and now I would like yours, sir.”
There was a murmur of approval through the room, and one adviser went so far as to say, “Very proper.”
“You will return home on Sunday?” said Carlos.
“After Mass, Don Carlos,” said the princess.
“You shall take your maid with you,” Carlos insisted.
“Prayer is always good for the soul, and I would not deny my maid the opportunity.”
“I think only of your consequence, my dear Isabella,” said Carlos, one eye on his audience to assess their response.
He should have watched Miss Henwood instead. It would be exaggerating to say her lips curled, but they pressed together and her nostrils twitched as she suppressed a flare of disgust.
“You will not need Miss Henwood if you have your maid,” Carlos pointed out. “She belongs to the English religion does she not? What place has she in a Catholic convent?”
