here?”
“Just resting. I got tired standing up.”
She gazed at him with an eye like Aunt Clotilda in her bad moments. “What did you do with Rupe?”
“He’s gone for more champagne.”
“He’s had enough champagne. And so have you.” She darted a quick one over her shoulder. No one was there. Her voice dropped. “Here. Take this. Don’t give it to anyone but me and don’t tell anyone you have it.”
She’d pulled ‘this’ out of her gold evening bag. It was an envelope, done up with blobs of red sealing wax. It was too heavy for its size. Something besides paper in it. The jewels?
She pushed it into his hand. “Take it. Put it in your pocket, your inside pocket, stupid! Quick.”
He made it quick. He was almost scared sober she was so jumpy. If anyone had come out of the door they couldn’t have seen what he was doing. She was shielding him. He got it tucked inside.
She fixed her eyes on him. “Remember. Don’t tell anyone, not anyone, that I gave you anything.”
“Sure nuff,” he nodded.
“If you do—” It was funny but he hadn’t ever noticed before that her eyes weren’t pure blue. Around the pupils were flecks as green as Magda’s. “If you do,” she repeated, and her voice was colder than the marble bench, “I don’t think you’ll live very long.”
Three
F OR A MOMENT, BUT only for a moment, Johnnie observed Trudy through pinwheels. He wasn’t that drunk. He had heard what she said. She was still standing there making sure he took it in. And he was right, her eyes weren’t any softer than marble.
His voice gulped back into his throat. “I won’t forget,” he assured her quickly. All the pleasant glow had evaporated. The only warm place about him was his inner coat pocket. That was too hot.
She seemed satisfied. She looked human when she asked sharply, “Just what were you doing in the library?”
“Reading. Trying to read. I wanted to find out about those countries. Then I was interrupted. But Rupe told me about them. Magda’s queen of this Trudamia—”
“Indeed she is not!” Trudy flashed. “My mother’s queen of Trudamia. And I’ll be queen some day. Trudamia is a matriarchy. Magda comes from a very minor branch of the family, a sixth cousin. Her father was a commoner.”
Even if she had just scared him out of a year’s growth, she really was cute as a bug. And she was a blonde. Johnnie took her hand. “Sit down and tell me about it,” he urged. He began to feel warm again. “You don’t want to hear any more of that guff, do you?” He sort of half-pulled her down beside him. She wasn’t exactly reluctant. Maybe her feet hurt too. “If Magda isn’t queen why is she going to marry Rudolph?”
“You don’t think I want to marry him, do you?” She was indignant. “It’s a perfect solution. Gets rid of Magda and Rudo both—if it comes off.”
“He actually is a king?”
“He will be. If he gets back in time after the war. Of course the people would rather have Ruprecht but Rudolph is nine months older so he gets to reign. Uncle Ruffeni—their father—died this year.”
“The Nazis?” he asked somberly.
“The Nazis had nothing to do with it,” she retorted promptly. “He had apoplexy because some fool in Nairobi watered his cognac. That was Uncle Ruffeni. Personally I think Rupe’s a bastard.”
“He is not,” Johnnie contradicted. “He’s a good Joe.”
“I don’t mean a bastard that way. I mean the other way. He couldn’t be Uncle Ruff’s son.”
He wished she’d stop talking so much. He felt like working up to a little cuddling. He moved a little closer. “You know who you remind me of?”
“Sonja Henie,” she snapped. “If all the men I’ve reminded of Sonja Henie were laid end to end I’d drive a tank over them with pleasure.” She sighed. “But he is too.”
Johnnie sighed with her. “Is what?”
“A bastard that way too.” She gave him a gimlet glare. “Who kissed whom?”
“Who kissed
“Just resting. I got tired standing up.”
She gazed at him with an eye like Aunt Clotilda in her bad moments. “What did you do with Rupe?”
“He’s gone for more champagne.”
“He’s had enough champagne. And so have you.” She darted a quick one over her shoulder. No one was there. Her voice dropped. “Here. Take this. Don’t give it to anyone but me and don’t tell anyone you have it.”
She’d pulled ‘this’ out of her gold evening bag. It was an envelope, done up with blobs of red sealing wax. It was too heavy for its size. Something besides paper in it. The jewels?
She pushed it into his hand. “Take it. Put it in your pocket, your inside pocket, stupid! Quick.”
He made it quick. He was almost scared sober she was so jumpy. If anyone had come out of the door they couldn’t have seen what he was doing. She was shielding him. He got it tucked inside.
She fixed her eyes on him. “Remember. Don’t tell anyone, not anyone, that I gave you anything.”
“Sure nuff,” he nodded.
“If you do—” It was funny but he hadn’t ever noticed before that her eyes weren’t pure blue. Around the pupils were flecks as green as Magda’s. “If you do,” she repeated, and her voice was colder than the marble bench, “I don’t think you’ll live very long.”
Three
F OR A MOMENT, BUT only for a moment, Johnnie observed Trudy through pinwheels. He wasn’t that drunk. He had heard what she said. She was still standing there making sure he took it in. And he was right, her eyes weren’t any softer than marble.
His voice gulped back into his throat. “I won’t forget,” he assured her quickly. All the pleasant glow had evaporated. The only warm place about him was his inner coat pocket. That was too hot.
She seemed satisfied. She looked human when she asked sharply, “Just what were you doing in the library?”
“Reading. Trying to read. I wanted to find out about those countries. Then I was interrupted. But Rupe told me about them. Magda’s queen of this Trudamia—”
“Indeed she is not!” Trudy flashed. “My mother’s queen of Trudamia. And I’ll be queen some day. Trudamia is a matriarchy. Magda comes from a very minor branch of the family, a sixth cousin. Her father was a commoner.”
Even if she had just scared him out of a year’s growth, she really was cute as a bug. And she was a blonde. Johnnie took her hand. “Sit down and tell me about it,” he urged. He began to feel warm again. “You don’t want to hear any more of that guff, do you?” He sort of half-pulled her down beside him. She wasn’t exactly reluctant. Maybe her feet hurt too. “If Magda isn’t queen why is she going to marry Rudolph?”
“You don’t think I want to marry him, do you?” She was indignant. “It’s a perfect solution. Gets rid of Magda and Rudo both—if it comes off.”
“He actually is a king?”
“He will be. If he gets back in time after the war. Of course the people would rather have Ruprecht but Rudolph is nine months older so he gets to reign. Uncle Ruffeni—their father—died this year.”
“The Nazis?” he asked somberly.
“The Nazis had nothing to do with it,” she retorted promptly. “He had apoplexy because some fool in Nairobi watered his cognac. That was Uncle Ruffeni. Personally I think Rupe’s a bastard.”
“He is not,” Johnnie contradicted. “He’s a good Joe.”
“I don’t mean a bastard that way. I mean the other way. He couldn’t be Uncle Ruff’s son.”
He wished she’d stop talking so much. He felt like working up to a little cuddling. He moved a little closer. “You know who you remind me of?”
“Sonja Henie,” she snapped. “If all the men I’ve reminded of Sonja Henie were laid end to end I’d drive a tank over them with pleasure.” She sighed. “But he is too.”
Johnnie sighed with her. “Is what?”
“A bastard that way too.” She gave him a gimlet glare. “Who kissed whom?”
“Who kissed
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