Lola Montez Conquers the Spaniards by Kit Brennan

candidates.” She began on the other hand. “Two Spanish, one French, and one German. Don Carlos’s son is my first choice, though he is Bella’s first cousin and they say that can cause problems. However, it would settle the unrest and that’s what’simportant. The other Spanish one is also a first cousin, same style of merchandise, not very interesting. The son of Louis-Philippe the First, who is my uncle, is the French possibility. I don’t know about him, and I need to know.” I was feeling increasingly shocked: They’re all rogering their relatives, I thought, with each others’ blessing! “Leopold of Saxe-Coburg, a cousin of your Queen Victoria’s Prince Consort, is the German. They will all be milling about at court, no doubt, and—with Isabel’s courses set to start at any time,” she placed all ten fingers upon my arm, “you must be there to smell them out.”
    Oh lord. Smelling out newly pubescent royalty and its hangers-on? But on the other hand, why not? Bright side, I reminded myself: get out from under the Grimaldi thumbscrews, get to Spain at last. Seduce this radical tutor, and after that’s accomplished and he’s in disgrace, I can flit home with my success in La pata da cabra as a calling card. Mulling these contradictory things, I was suddenly woozy again.
    Cristina made a kissing face at Grimaldi. “This one is just right, Juan—smoky eyes, a whiff of innocence masking youthful greed and hope. You know how to make them jump for the grapes.”
    What had she said?
    She reached for a small bell that sat upon the table to her left and rang it vigorously. “We must ensure, Juan, that this little mademoiselle has everything she needs. She must be seen to be an influential, wellconnected young lady. What is her cover?”
    â€œAn English actress, travelling and invited to take a turn upon our stage. Her aim, the reason for her travel, is to learn traditional Spanish dance.”
    I was definitely feeling peculiar.
    â€œWhat about her gowns? Shoes? Does she have sufficient numbers and styles, or will it become clear that she is not who she seems simply from scanning her wardrobe? There are servants in the employ of my enemies who would be able to discover such a thing at a glance.”
    Grimaldi frowned mightily. “Majesty, she has—”
    Cristina decreed, “A new frock for each day of the week. Finest materials, spare no expense. English fabrics and designs. You may use my dressmaker, she is very fast.” Grimaldi choked as she added, “Thismustn’t come out of her own money, mind. This must be a gift from your household. And I want her to receive a good salary at La Príncipe, Juan—none of this carping and miserliness you’re famous for. My spies must cut a good figure—and you must admit, this one has the figure to do it!”
    My head cleared enough to take this news in, and I rejoiced in surprise: new gowns! If I were to strive and fall into danger for my country—their country—at least I’d be gorgeous.
    â€œWhat role have you in mind for her?” asked the ex-queen.
    â€œDay Smakiña,” he grumbled, decidedly put out. I recall thinking this was a very odd name for a character.
    â€œLovely! For the infantas! That is sure to do the trick!” Cristina clapped her hands in delight. A maidservant entered and was told, “The best port, and figs.” The maid scurried off to obey as the royal personage leaned back and thrust her exquisitely clad feet out with a sigh of pleasure, her belly round as a ball and proclaiming its condition. “Oh Juan, when shall we be able to return to our kingdoms, you to your theatres, and me and mine to our rightful place in the firmament? It is too, too hard.” She looked over at me and sighed, “You must do your best for us, pretty agent. Promise me.”
    â€œOh, I do, Your Majesty,” I said,