"What a magnificent piece of art," she offered, her voice strained. “Is it perchance a Goya?”
The duke clasped his hands behind his back, still facing the carnage. "The Dos de Mayo. It represents the Spanish fight against Napoleon's tyranny."
Napoleon's deranged passions ravaged the country during the Peninsular Wars. Isabel hugged herself. "Past feuds are a waste of a country's resources, don't you think?"
He eyed her askance. "Napoleon is gone, but the Spanish people have an Italian usurper on the throne."
Well, then, he seemed quite happy to nurture past feuds. Isabel sipped her tea to swallow her misgivings and pasted on expression number fifteen, a raised eye brow softened by a diplomatic smile. "Isn't usurper a harsh word? I'm sure the Duke of Aosta is a dedicated ruler."
Canastra inhaled sharply, his olive skin turning red. "Dedicated to whom?"
"To the Spanish people, of course. I always say it's best to look at the future. Better unite with a less ideal king than have no king at all, don't you think?" And no king at all, to the aristocracy, meant only one thing—a republic. None present tilted toward a republican regime, so the Spanish aristocracy would have to accept him.
"Have you met the Prince of Asturias?" Canastra spoke casually, but his eyes roamed over her face, and she had the impression he studied her, noticing her minute reactions.
Of course, she knew of him. Royal circles were tight. Alfonso de Bourbon, the eldest son of Queen Isabela, had been exiled along with the rest of his family.
"Only his sisters. They are wonderful girls." She felt the need to add. Otherwise, he might take offense. She'd met them when visiting Paris last year. Alfonso had been studying in Switzerland. They lived well enough in the Rue de Rivoli. Still, she had sensed in the family a deep sorrow and fear. After all, a dethroned monarch led a risky life.
"He became a striking young gentleman. Honorable to a fault, bright, honest. Your views would match with his on many subjects," Canastra said.
An aura of expectancy descended upon the room. Several aristocrats nodded, leaning forward. Canastra exchanged a glance with the others, and she had the distinct impression they were up to something.
"What a shame he cannot return to Spain." Isabel paused. She must tread carefully. "Perhaps I can write to him."
"You won't have to."
"No?" She lowered her tea and lifted her brows.
"You will meet him in person." The duke placed his right hand atop his chest. "Alfonso de Bourbon arrives tomorrow."
Chapter 10
"Society is now one polish'd horde, Form'd of two mighty tribes, the Bores and Bored."Lord Byron
Henriqueenteredthepalace,directing the footman to accommodate the box with his experiments and microscope. Isabel's maid paced the corridor, her expression bothered. Henrique could not blame her and glared at the door. Isabel had been locked inside it with Canastra for two hours. The princess should have stayed in Lisbon if she wished to bury herself in smoky rooms and drudging company.
He was about to return to the party when he heard a gasp.
Isabel stumbled out of the room. The maid hurried to her and grabbed her arm.
Heart speeding, Henrique strode to them.
Isabel seemed troubled, her skin pale. What the hell had they discussed? If they had been mean to her—Henrique pushed the thought away. Isabel could hold herself better than most people he knew.
Green eyes settled on him for a second, and then she fainted.
Henrique folded Isabel's weight close to his chest just as her legs melted beneath her.
"What is wrong with her, Sophie?"
"I don't know. She was fine when she entered with the Duke."
"Lead the way to her bedroom."
Henrique strode through dark corridors, his footsteps clattering over the checkered marble, Isabel's long skirts tangling with his thighs. Her head lolled with each step, her lips white as the Greek statues lining the gallery. Henrique cursed the palace's gigantic proportions, counting six turns before Sophie threw open the door to the princess' chambers.
Brocade curtains hung from the windows, curtailing the light. As with everything else in the castle, the room was overdecorated.
