the bedroom, Perrette groomed back to her usual perfection, Gus ordered them coffee and sat at the table on the balcony overlooking the city. He wondered why he felt so unsettled.
He should feel good. He was in the city he loved, sipping coffee with the girl he was going to spend the rest of his life with. But he just couldn’t shake the feeling of uncertainty.
What was Cinda doing? Was she by the pool? Painting? In bed with Ludo? That last thought came with a stab to the chest.
‘I have an idea,’ said Perrette as she sipped her coffee and ignored the delicate pastries arranged on the marble-topped table.
His willpower was nothing compared to Perrette’s. She could say no to anything, no matter how much she wanted it. Even her body didn’t dare disobey her. Perrette never gave into whims, except when it came to fashion.
‘Yes?’ he asked, watching the traffic below.
‘Your trip to Africa. In a few weeks?’
‘It’s in two weeks,’ he said. ‘What of it?’
He was supposed to travel with a delegate of young European royals through southern and central Africa. It was to highlight the need for more aid, but also to see the philanthropic work the families were already doing. Perrette had said she couldn’t go with Gus; she was too busy, as usual. They both knew that, really, she didn’t like the way Africa made her hair frizzy.
‘Send Ludo instead,’ she said. ‘Get him away from this backpacker.’
Gus thought for a moment. ‘But Mamma expects me to go.’
‘She’ll understand once you talk her through it. And it’ll be good for Ludo. It’ll show that there’s more to the next generation than just you.’
Gus sat in thought. In theory it was a good idea. But Ludo, alone in Africa? With other young royals to corrupt? The fallout could be dire.
But then, what option did he have? ‘It might work,’ he said slowly.
‘It will work,’ said Perrette. She was always confident in her decisions.
‘ Ciao , Augustus,’ he heard his mother’s voice behind him. He stood and turned, bowing to his mother, who then kissed him on each cheek.
‘Perrette,’ she said, and Perrette curtsied to Queen Sofia, then kissed her on both cheeks as well.
Gus was never sure whether his mother actually liked Perrette. Their mutual interests extended only to fashion and Gus’s reputation. They expected both to be flawless.
‘Why are you here, darling?’ asked Sofia as she led them into the reception room and sat on an ornately carved sofa. ‘I thought you were at the Riviera del Corallo for the rest of the summer.’
‘It’s about Ludo,’ he said, noticing how the queen rolled her eyes a little in response. ‘I think we need to send him to Africa instead of me.’
‘What’s he done now?’
‘It’s what he might do,’ said Gus, deciding not to go into detail about the backpackers. ‘He’s made . . . some new friends,’ he said carefully. ‘I don’t think they’re very good for him.’
‘Ludovic’s friends are rarely any good,’ Sofia sighed, looking over to Perrette, who nodded in agreement. ‘Africa, you say?’ the queen asked as she rang the small silver bell that was on the Louis XIV wooden table next to the couch.
‘Yes, I think it’s best.’
‘It is a good thing your father isn’t here to see what a disaster his younger son is,’ she said with a shake of her head, and Gus saw a look of sadness cross her face.
The death of their father five years ago had thrown the nation into mourning. Queen Sofia had been stoic in public, but behind closed doors, Gus had seen her loss. Whenever her mask slipped, the pain of losing her beloved husband was etched on her face.
She was nearly sixty, and privately she had always said she would hand over the throne to Gus when she was sixty-five. Gus had to be prepared in every way to take over the role by then.
The queen considered Gus’s suggestion a little longer. ‘Much as I’m sure you’re right, I feel we owe it to Ludo to prove
He should feel good. He was in the city he loved, sipping coffee with the girl he was going to spend the rest of his life with. But he just couldn’t shake the feeling of uncertainty.
What was Cinda doing? Was she by the pool? Painting? In bed with Ludo? That last thought came with a stab to the chest.
‘I have an idea,’ said Perrette as she sipped her coffee and ignored the delicate pastries arranged on the marble-topped table.
His willpower was nothing compared to Perrette’s. She could say no to anything, no matter how much she wanted it. Even her body didn’t dare disobey her. Perrette never gave into whims, except when it came to fashion.
‘Yes?’ he asked, watching the traffic below.
‘Your trip to Africa. In a few weeks?’
‘It’s in two weeks,’ he said. ‘What of it?’
He was supposed to travel with a delegate of young European royals through southern and central Africa. It was to highlight the need for more aid, but also to see the philanthropic work the families were already doing. Perrette had said she couldn’t go with Gus; she was too busy, as usual. They both knew that, really, she didn’t like the way Africa made her hair frizzy.
‘Send Ludo instead,’ she said. ‘Get him away from this backpacker.’
Gus thought for a moment. ‘But Mamma expects me to go.’
‘She’ll understand once you talk her through it. And it’ll be good for Ludo. It’ll show that there’s more to the next generation than just you.’
Gus sat in thought. In theory it was a good idea. But Ludo, alone in Africa? With other young royals to corrupt? The fallout could be dire.
But then, what option did he have? ‘It might work,’ he said slowly.
‘It will work,’ said Perrette. She was always confident in her decisions.
‘ Ciao , Augustus,’ he heard his mother’s voice behind him. He stood and turned, bowing to his mother, who then kissed him on each cheek.
‘Perrette,’ she said, and Perrette curtsied to Queen Sofia, then kissed her on both cheeks as well.
Gus was never sure whether his mother actually liked Perrette. Their mutual interests extended only to fashion and Gus’s reputation. They expected both to be flawless.
‘Why are you here, darling?’ asked Sofia as she led them into the reception room and sat on an ornately carved sofa. ‘I thought you were at the Riviera del Corallo for the rest of the summer.’
‘It’s about Ludo,’ he said, noticing how the queen rolled her eyes a little in response. ‘I think we need to send him to Africa instead of me.’
‘What’s he done now?’
‘It’s what he might do,’ said Gus, deciding not to go into detail about the backpackers. ‘He’s made . . . some new friends,’ he said carefully. ‘I don’t think they’re very good for him.’
‘Ludovic’s friends are rarely any good,’ Sofia sighed, looking over to Perrette, who nodded in agreement. ‘Africa, you say?’ the queen asked as she rang the small silver bell that was on the Louis XIV wooden table next to the couch.
‘Yes, I think it’s best.’
‘It is a good thing your father isn’t here to see what a disaster his younger son is,’ she said with a shake of her head, and Gus saw a look of sadness cross her face.
The death of their father five years ago had thrown the nation into mourning. Queen Sofia had been stoic in public, but behind closed doors, Gus had seen her loss. Whenever her mask slipped, the pain of losing her beloved husband was etched on her face.
She was nearly sixty, and privately she had always said she would hand over the throne to Gus when she was sixty-five. Gus had to be prepared in every way to take over the role by then.
The queen considered Gus’s suggestion a little longer. ‘Much as I’m sure you’re right, I feel we owe it to Ludo to prove
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