as Sedona monarchs traditionally never wore spectacles – weak-sighted men being
by definition poorly bred and thereby unfit to rule – Engelbert must stumble through the rest of his public life more or less
unable to see. Monocles were acceptable, apparently, but to Astrid’s secret relief, even Engelbert drew the line at those.
In private, he wore bifocals, but whipped them off whenever a servant entered the room.
‘Do you mind if we go back inside?’ the King grumped. It was unforgivingly hot.
As the Queen did not reply, he drummed his fingers testily against the warm stone. His crested signet ring flashed agitatedly.
‘My dear, our son is going to be King of Sedona. Sooner or later, he needs a suitable queen. Preferably a rich one,’ he added,
thinking of the marina project. While it would be funded mainly by the rejuvenated state, a private fortune would undoubtedly
be useful.
Still the Queen said nothing. Engelbert looked at her crossly. Astrid was wonderful in every possible way, from her even temper
to her never-altering slender figure, clad today, as always, in one of her well-cut sleeveless dresses in flattering shades
of pastel. But there was no doubt she could be difficult to get through to attimes. He leant against the lichened urn beside which his wife was working and tried to shade his glistening head behind a
bulge of Floribunda.
‘We should never have sent him to university in England,’ he complained. ‘That was your idea.’
‘He wanted to be a vet. It’s a very good course,’ the Queen said shortly.
‘Well you should never have encouraged him. Vet! What business has a future King of Sedona got being a vet?’
‘He’s doing brilliantly well,’ Astrid reminded her husband tartly. ‘He gets top marks in every exam.’
Her robust defence of her son masked a growing terror. Engelbert was obviously serious. And Max, she was certain, would refuse
point blank to obey his father. Come back and marry a stranger, when he was doing the course of his dreams in England? There
was no possibility, no chance at all.
‘He should have gone to university in Paris,’ the King was grumbling. ‘We wouldn’t have had to look for anyone then. Paris
is choked with eligible heiresses. Rich, beautiful girls from the very best families. You can hardly avoid them.’ There was
a wistful note in his voice.
‘Is that so?’ The Queen’s secateurs gleamed in the sunlight.
‘Absolutely it is,’ her husband affirmed. ‘When I was at the Sorbonne, I was going out with a
duchesse
, a princess and a
comtesse
all at the same time. At the same time . . .’
It was at this moment, meeting the uncharacteristically icy glare of his wife, that the King realised to whom he was speaking.
‘But of course,’ he added hurriedly, ‘none of them could hold a candle to you, my dear.’
The Queen snipped viciously at her bushes. ‘Max will refuse, and there’s an end to it,’ she said tightly.
‘Well he’d better not,’ Engelbert riposted.
‘He will. It’s out of the question. He’s a good boy,’ the Queen said, ‘but he will not be forced. Please don’t make him,’
she added, impassioned.
The King smacked his forehead. ‘Where,’ he groaned, ‘did I go wrong with Max?’
‘When you put him in military uniform at the age of six?’ the Queen suggested icily.
Her husband rounded on her furiously. ‘All crown princes of Sedona wear military uniform from the age of six. It’s—’
‘Traditional?’ offered the Queen, meeting his gaze boldly.
The King stared irritably at the manicured lawns before him. ‘It’s not a question of forcing.’
‘Isn’t it?’ Astrid fought not to sound shrill.
‘No,’ Engelbert said decisively. ‘We need to
encourage
him. He’ll be twenty-one soon, the age at which all de Sedona princes get married.’
‘Used to get married,’ Astrid corrected. ‘We’ve dropped that particular rule, remember?’
The King looked her
by definition poorly bred and thereby unfit to rule – Engelbert must stumble through the rest of his public life more or less
unable to see. Monocles were acceptable, apparently, but to Astrid’s secret relief, even Engelbert drew the line at those.
In private, he wore bifocals, but whipped them off whenever a servant entered the room.
‘Do you mind if we go back inside?’ the King grumped. It was unforgivingly hot.
As the Queen did not reply, he drummed his fingers testily against the warm stone. His crested signet ring flashed agitatedly.
‘My dear, our son is going to be King of Sedona. Sooner or later, he needs a suitable queen. Preferably a rich one,’ he added,
thinking of the marina project. While it would be funded mainly by the rejuvenated state, a private fortune would undoubtedly
be useful.
Still the Queen said nothing. Engelbert looked at her crossly. Astrid was wonderful in every possible way, from her even temper
to her never-altering slender figure, clad today, as always, in one of her well-cut sleeveless dresses in flattering shades
of pastel. But there was no doubt she could be difficult to get through to attimes. He leant against the lichened urn beside which his wife was working and tried to shade his glistening head behind a
bulge of Floribunda.
‘We should never have sent him to university in England,’ he complained. ‘That was your idea.’
‘He wanted to be a vet. It’s a very good course,’ the Queen said shortly.
‘Well you should never have encouraged him. Vet! What business has a future King of Sedona got being a vet?’
‘He’s doing brilliantly well,’ Astrid reminded her husband tartly. ‘He gets top marks in every exam.’
Her robust defence of her son masked a growing terror. Engelbert was obviously serious. And Max, she was certain, would refuse
point blank to obey his father. Come back and marry a stranger, when he was doing the course of his dreams in England? There
was no possibility, no chance at all.
‘He should have gone to university in Paris,’ the King was grumbling. ‘We wouldn’t have had to look for anyone then. Paris
is choked with eligible heiresses. Rich, beautiful girls from the very best families. You can hardly avoid them.’ There was
a wistful note in his voice.
‘Is that so?’ The Queen’s secateurs gleamed in the sunlight.
‘Absolutely it is,’ her husband affirmed. ‘When I was at the Sorbonne, I was going out with a
duchesse
, a princess and a
comtesse
all at the same time. At the same time . . .’
It was at this moment, meeting the uncharacteristically icy glare of his wife, that the King realised to whom he was speaking.
‘But of course,’ he added hurriedly, ‘none of them could hold a candle to you, my dear.’
The Queen snipped viciously at her bushes. ‘Max will refuse, and there’s an end to it,’ she said tightly.
‘Well he’d better not,’ Engelbert riposted.
‘He will. It’s out of the question. He’s a good boy,’ the Queen said, ‘but he will not be forced. Please don’t make him,’
she added, impassioned.
The King smacked his forehead. ‘Where,’ he groaned, ‘did I go wrong with Max?’
‘When you put him in military uniform at the age of six?’ the Queen suggested icily.
Her husband rounded on her furiously. ‘All crown princes of Sedona wear military uniform from the age of six. It’s—’
‘Traditional?’ offered the Queen, meeting his gaze boldly.
The King stared irritably at the manicured lawns before him. ‘It’s not a question of forcing.’
‘Isn’t it?’ Astrid fought not to sound shrill.
‘No,’ Engelbert said decisively. ‘We need to
encourage
him. He’ll be twenty-one soon, the age at which all de Sedona princes get married.’
‘Used to get married,’ Astrid corrected. ‘We’ve dropped that particular rule, remember?’
The King looked her
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