Page 21 of The Society (Spy Girl 3)
"May tenth. Six years ago," I say.
"Who tried to kill my father?" Lorenzo asks.
"His brother," the admiral clarifies.
"The brother who died in a suspicious hunting accident just six months ago?" I ask.
"Wait," Lorenzo says, looking quite shocked, "are you saying my uncle Alessandro tried to kill my father?"
"Yes. He wanted to be king."
"But that makes no sense. Why would he want to kill him? It couldn't have been to be king. I would have been next in line. Granted, I was only seventeen at the time," Lorenzo argues, "but there have been younger kings throughout Montrovian history."
"I'm pretty sure you were next on the hit list," the admiral says. "Your father and I had been friends since we were kids. And Alessandro always had a chip on his shoulder because your father was lauded as the heir to the throne while he was just a spare. He rebelled against your grandparents often and created scandals whenever he possibly could. They finally sent him to a boarding school in Switzerland. When he came back, he seemed less bitter, but he still didn't want to be paraded around town, doing what he called 'royal bullshit.' But things seemed to settle down, the longer your grandfather lived. Giovanni was thirty-two before he became king. Alessandro refused to go to the coronation with the rest of the family and left town. Ten years later, he suddenly came home, demanding to be treated like the royalty that he was. He started making appearances and was actually behaving. Your father was thrilled that he had finally grown up."
"It was about that time when we caught wind of a plot," Gabriel says. "I was sent by my country to monitor the situation. Throughout its history, the country of Montrovia has always been watched closely because of the Strait and its importance." He pauses briefly to take a drink of water from the glass in front of him. "It was race weekend. Your father was on the royal yacht, hosting a party. He and his brother were on the top deck, arguing about making Montrovia a better place. Alessandro, who kept a suite at the Casino from the time he was sixteen so that he wouldn't have to bring girls back to the palace, had decided they were setting a bad example to the world and wanted to outlaw gambling. Giovanni told him he was crazy. That it would destroy their economy. That's when Alessandro tried to push him overboard. In the process of me saving the king's life, his brother went over the railing and fell to his death."
"I never knew that," Lorenzo says, looking quite disturbed. "Everyone was told it was an accident."
"We didn't want the world to know the King's own brother had tried to kill him," the admiral says. "We had to cover it up."
"And you didn't think to bring this up when I told you about Ophelia? She wanted to do the same thing." I'm pissed. I turn to Lorenzo. "We shouldn't have trusted them."
Gabriel holds up his hands. "You're wrong. You never told me that Ophelia wanted to outlaw gambling. You said she wanted to sell the Strait and rename the country." He runs over to a notepad, flips back through the pages, and then holds it out for me to see. "I'm not lying. You can trust me. You both need to trust me."
"I'm sorry then," I say, feeling bad I yelled at him. "Let me clarify what she said. This is a direct quote. 'I want to systematically dismantle this farce of a monarchy, starting by selling the Strait of Montrovia to the highest bidder. Once that's done, we'll close down our borders to these wretched tourists, shut down our port, sink all the yachts, and abolish gambling.'"
"That's quite the coincidence," Gabriel says.
"What it sounds like is, the same person whispered those words in both Alessandro's and Ophelia's ears in an attempt to control the country."
"Now, we just need to figure out who they are and their intentions," the admiral says.
I stop in Chauncey's room to wake him up for school. The second he opens his eyes, the smile on his little face makes me happy. It gives me hope that, in all this mess, I might find some answers. And that those answers will both help me understand my past as well as maybe save all our futures. I'm having a hard time understanding why Black X--or anyone for that matter--would entrust the future of our world to a nineteen-year-old girl, regardless of how well trained she is. Why aren't they shouting all this from the rooftops?
Then I realize it's so that the bad guys, whoever they are, don't know that we know something is going to happen.
I have breakfast with Chauncey and Lorenzo, send a large wheeled table full of food down to the admiral and Gabriel, and then go to get dressed for the Royal Ascot.
Dr. Kate had clothing delivered here, and Lorenzo's staff hung and steamed them. Since the Royal Ascot is a five-day event, I also received numerous hats from Anna Remaldi, the royal milliner for the queen of Montrovia.
I read the note Dr. Kate included and learn that, since we will be in what's called the Royal Enclosure, we have to follow a strict dress code that includes morning attire for the gentlemen and modest formal day dresses and hats for the ladies.
She also goes on to explain that hats are allowed, as are headpieces with a four-inch base, but that fascinators are against the dress code--unless they have the proper base size. I didn't really understand before what the difference between them was, but now, I do.
I carefully open each hatbox and look at Anna's beautiful creations. Since I don't know when I will be pulled away to go after the money man, I decide to wear my favorite today. The bell-shaped black hat with a large bow is classic in an Audrey Hepburn sort of way and not quite as crazy as some of the statement hats I saw when I looked them up online. It will pair beautifully with the fun Dolce & Gabbana gelato print dress I'm wearing.
I check the clock and see it's time to leave. I grab the coordinating raffia heels and handbag I'm supposed to wear with it and run out to the kitchen.
Chauncey looks freaking adorable. He's wearing his school uniform, which consists of a gray blazer outlined in burgundy, gray slacks, white shirt, and a striped tie. The big, expressive eyes and darling grin don't hurt either.
Lorenzo spins me around to look at my dress, causing Chauncey to giggle and my breath to catch. Lorenzo is wearing a traditional English morning suit with a black morning coat, deep blue waistcoat, and subtle gray-and-black-striped slacks. His shirt is white, and his tie is a deep gray. He looks utterly scrumptious.
"Let's drop Chauncey off at school today," I suggest quietly while he goes to get his backpack from his room. "If we are in the limo, no one will see us with him, and he'll love it."
"He is quite precocious."
"And those eyes."
"And his perfected pout. He has the staff wrapped around his little finger," Lorenzo says. "Let's do it."
We get loaded into the limo and drop Chauncey off at school.
Then Lorenzo pulls me as close as my hat will allow and says, "You know, every man at the Royal Ascot is going to be thinking the same thing I did when I first saw you in that dress."
"And what's that?" I ask, suddenly feelin
g self-conscious and wondering if my dress is appropriate for the occasion.
"That they would like to attempt to lick all that gelato straight off you," he says with a sexy smirk.
My eyes get big, and I find myself blushing. "Lorenzo," I chastise.
He runs a finger under my jawline, pushing my chin up and bringing me face-to-face with him. He leans in for the kind of kiss that tells me he means it.
Once at the race, we're led to a private box with a bar and full wait staff. Although the box is quite big and would probably hold nearly a hundred people, there is simply a table set for two.
"Are we not meeting up with anyone?" I ask.
"We have been invited to numerous private parties over the course of the event, and I'd love to show you off, but I thought we could come back here and dine in private. As much as I enjoy events like these, now that I am king, I must constantly consider my actions and my words. Sometimes, that can be tiresome."
"I think you are brilliant." I give him a kiss on the cheek. "Plus, I love spending time alone with you."
He pulls my hand to his lips and kisses it. "I am not going to be able to stall my mother for much longer. She plans on announcing my betrothment to Lizzie next week."
I lower my eyes, the thought of him marrying someone else deeply disturbing me.
"But, if you would agree to a courtship, I think I could hold her off for a bit."
"What does a courtship mean in your country?"
"It's a more formal and serious form of dating."
"And just how many women have you had courtships with in the past?"
He chuckles. "None. As I mentioned, it is considered serious. And, for someone in my position, it means that the courtship is approved by the royal family, which basically means my mother."
"But she wants you to marry Lizzie, so why would she approve?"
"She wants me to marry someone, so I can keep my crown."
"And what does it mean for me? Like what would I have to do?"
He pulls me into his arms. "During our courtship, you will have to decide if you love me enough."
"And, if at some time, I decide I don't want to be courted?"
"We have a more public breakup than we would if we were simply dating--as in a formal announcement would be made."
