Page 76 of The Truth About Myths
Upon seeing her, they dropped the dead weight on the Aubusson carpet. Placing a hand over their hearts, they shouted, "Viva la Reyna!" Long live the queen.
So shocked was Isabel by their salute, it took her several seconds to recover her wits.
Her gaze trailed from the Guardia's impassive expressions to the man crumpled on the floor. It was Charles Whitaker. If he was alone, where was Dolly? Had he tired of her already? Left her for another woman?
Isabel fisted her hands by her sides. "Where is she? Where did you leave Lady Dolores?"
Charles lifted his face as if waking up from a bad dream. Tears coursed through his cheeks, wetting his red beard. She had never seen a man crying, and it constricted her chest. Her gaze flew to the Guardia and then to Alfonso.
Alfonso raised his palms. "For my honor, he was not touched in violence. When sober, though, he will have to pay for the slight to Lady Dolores."
At the mention of Dolly's name, a pitiful keening sound escaped from Charles' mouth.
"Please! Have you left her in some inn? She loved you, and—"
"Love? My dove doesn't love me."
"Don't place the blame on her. She—"
"She used me." Charles sighed and dropped his chin. "She told me if we didn't elope, she would leave me. We went to the station. I wanted to take her to her father to ask for her hand. Behind my back, she boarded a train to Paris."
Isabel gasped. "I don't believe you."
The Guardia advanced over to Charles.
Charles mumbled, oblivious to the threat. Trembling, he reached inside his coat and removed a paper. "See for yourself."
Isabel took the message from him. He gazed up at her, his eyes brimmed with raw hurt. Charles was heartbroken. She had judged him unfairly. Heart pain, it seemed, chose not gender. She had been wrong about that as well. Throat swollen with sorrow, she placed her hand above his shoulder. She owed him an apology.
Charles’ face turned green, and Alfonso signaled the Guardia to remove him from the room before he could vomit.
Isabel's hand fell limply to her side. "Wait, I—"
Alfonso closed the door after the Guardia left. "They won't harm him unless I say so."
Was the Guardia supporting Alfonso? They must have because the prince's eyes showed a new light, and he had grown an inch. Still, Isabel couldn't process it now and slumped on the couch.
She read Dolly's note, and it all made sense at last.
Alfonso took it from her numb fingers. After scanning the lines, he crumpled the paper. "What an unnatural thing to do. Abandon her duties as a maid of honor to a royal princess. All to become an actress? A woman without morals?"
Alfonso must have believed her silence was due to shock because he knelt at her feet and held her hand. "It is better this way. My dear, you wouldn't want a corrupt sheep in your household."
The old Isabel would feel the same. This Isabel, this other version of her, was not so sure. Dolly dreamed of taking Paris by storm. Why should she bury herself inside her carapace and conform to a life of rigidity?
A tiny smile crossed her lips, and she hid it under her handkerchief. Lady Dolores had fooled everyone. Where did she hide such cunning? Lady Dolores, too, had chanced to fly. Isabel only hoped it wouldn't hurt Dolly as much.
Isabel looked at the heirloom ring crowning her finger and at Alfonso's austere expression, and an ache invaded her chest.
"Did you finish the flag?" Alfonso bent over the cloth. Frowning, he traced her precise stitches.
Isabel nodded. "As we agreed. And then you will—"
"I havepundonor, Isabel, and once I'm king, as promised, I will renounce any right to the Portuguese throne."
Isabel's smile was perhaps sadder than Charles'. Alfonso would be a qualified king for Spain. He wouldn't make her skin tingle or her heart pound, but he vowed fidelity. It would have to be enough.
Chapter 30
