Her Highness, My Wife by Victoria Alexander Page B

served this year has been aged for nearly a century. There is only enough made each season by the monks who live in the monastery midway up Avalonia’s highest mountain to meet the needs of the royal family.”
    “Just the royal family? The ordinary folk have to drink ordinary brandy?”
    She nodded. “Ordinary Avalonian brandy is still quite good, or so I have been told. And even for the royal family, Royal Amber is only used on occasions of great celebration and ceremony. The Feast of St. Stanislaus, Christmas and welcoming the new year, Easter, of course, baptisms, weddings, coronations.
    That sort of thing.” She raised her wine glass to him. “It is tradition.”
    “I see.” He returned the toast, then sipped casually. “I assume, then, it was drunk at your wedding.”
    She hesitated, and there was a flash of something in her eyes. Regret? Anger? No, more than likely pain. She had buried her first husband, after all, not left him, and she had probably cared for him.
    “I shouldn’t have asked,” he said slowly.
    “Nonsense.” She smiled lightly and her chin raised a fraction of an inch. “You were at my second wedding. It is only fair you know about the first. The occasion most certainly required the benediction of Royal Amber brandy. It was as much a joining of two countries as two people.”
    “You never told me about your husband. There’s no need—”
    “Perhaps not. Perhaps there is every need.” She leaned back in her chair and studied him for a long, silent moment. “Do you know anything of my country, Matthew?”
    “Not really. I have managed to locate it on a map, but beyond that”—he smiled to lighten the mood—“I know only of its people’s traditions regarding brandy while traveling.”
    She laughed. “There is little more to know. We are strategically located, in that part of the world shared by Russia, Prussia and Austria. While my family has ruled for centuries, they are also prone to fighting amongst themselves. This past year my father was quite ill and my cousin tried to wrest power for her own branch of the House of Pruzinsky. Thankfully, she failed. She isn’t at all nice and I cannot imagine what dire consequences would result from her rule.”
    She took a drink and considered him over the rim of her glass. “But you were asking about my first husband.”
    “I wasn’t really asking.” It seemed somewhat petty to abruptly delve into her past. Still, if he had no other claim as her second husband, perhaps he at least had the right to know something of her first. “But I do admit to some curiosity.”
    “Phillipe Andre Augustus de Bernadotte was the son of the monarch of a small principality allied with Avalonia. My father and his decreed we should wed when I was but four years of age. Even though Phillipe’s country was… well, absorbed is the polite, civilized term… by Austria before he came of age, it was decided it would still be of political benefit for the marriage to take place. So I did my duty, fulfilled my responsibilities and I married him.”
    “I see.” He did, but only to a certain extent. Tatiana had given no clue as to how she had felt about this Phillipe. If she had cared for him. Mourned him. Loved him. Not that it was the least bit important. He was curious, nothing more.
    “You might well have liked Phillipe. He was the kind of man other men tend to admire. An expert in everything he turned his hand to—riding and shooting, gaming and drinking and all those odd things men seem to enjoy. He was exceedingly charming and quite handsome. Other gentlemen liked him, but women”—she sipped at her wine—“women adored him. And he adored them.”
    “I see.” This time he did indeed understand. “Did you?”
    She stared into her glass and long moments passed by. He wasn’t sure why he wanted to hear her answer, but he did even as he told himself, here and now, it scarcely mattered.
    “I can’t imagine in your entire life you have ever done