Another Scandal in Bohemia by Carole Nelson Douglas Read Free Book Online Page B

beat the sarcasm from her voice but a particle remained. King Willie had never admitted as much.
    The Queen smiled nostalgically. “I first met him as Crown Prince when I was fourteen. Wilhelm is a man of uncommon height, much like Czar Alexander of Russia, both almost six and a half feet tall. They are distantly related, as many members of various royal houses are. The King is such a massive man, with great blond sideburns and a mustache. Very handsome, I thought, a Viking prince. I was not averse to the marriage, though I would have to leave Sweden and learn German—very large matters to a young girl.”
    “And Bohemian,” Irene put in.
    “What?”
    “You would have to learn Bohemian.”
    “Why on earth would I?”
    “It is the language of Bohemia.”
    “But the von Ormsteins speak German, and Bohemia is part of the Austro-Hungarian Empire, and the Court at Vienna speaks German. As a child, I learned English, French, Italian, and German so I should be able to marry into any acceptable royal house, but from the first I was promised to Bohemia.”
    “Hence why bother to speak Bohemian?” Irene muttered to herself.
    The Queen didn’t notice; her mind had moved again to her unpleasant present lot, and her face reflected its poverty. “We married last spring, a splendid ceremony in Prague,” she said, rallying a bit. “The city is pretty, but Prague castle is vast and gloomy. Little has been done to bring in modern comforts. Yet I was wed to one of the most handsome and eligible Kings of Europe. I... intended to do my duty.”
    “Which was?” Irene prompted.
    Queen Clotilde looked first amazed, then mortified. She eyed her entwined and gloved hands. “My first duty is to extend the royal line.”
    Impatience flashed across Irene’s face. “And you have made no progress in this required enterprise yet? Consult a physician, then. I can recommend Doctors Sturm and Drang,” she added wryly.
    Only I understood the danger the Queen ran in consulting Irene about her domestic disappointments. Sturm and Drang were the mock names Irene had given the Bohemian royal physicians during our disastrous stay in Prague two springs before. I bit my lip in a mirroring gesture as I watched the Queen’s hypersensitive face threaten to collapse.
    “I would, Madame Norton. Save that there is no physical fault. I cannot... breed if I am not... approached.”
    I could not decipher such delicate phrasing, and, for a moment, neither could Irene. She sank back against the down-filled cushions, her flame silk gown setting like a sullen sun against the utter twilight of the black upholstery.
    “You mean that—?” For once, even Irene was lost for words.
    “I mean that my husband, the King of Bohemia, has not consummated the marriage.”
    Or perhaps Irene had wanted to hear that admission from her rival’s lips, without having to put soothing words into her mouth. Yet Irene was not usually cruel.
    “Consummated the marriage,” I repeated in the lengthening silence. I believed that I knew what that meant, in a general sense.
    “Miss Huxleigh is right,” Irene said, clearing her throat. “We must be absolutely clear on your meaning. You say that the King has not... visited your bedchamber.”
    “Oh, he has visited. As far as anyone would suspect the marriage is sealed. But... nothing has happened.”
    “Are you sure?” Irene asked sharply.
    That pale face flushed as the dawn does when the light is thin and all color is only a hint. “I think so. I believe I would know. I have been told little, only that I must obey my husband and do my duty. Surely my duty does not require me to sleep alone, always. Nothing has passed between us but public courtesies. I cannot say that I was eager to solve these mysteries that are kept from maidens, but I expected to have them solved for me, certainly by now. I remain as ignorant as ever, and most puzzled.”
    “Perhaps,” I said stiffly, “you have been granted the better part.”
    “Not