close to her, Christian handed the yelping dog to the princess without a word. Their hands touched beneath the furry body, and then their eyes met.
Christian felt as if he'd downed a fast couple of glasses of the Château Mutton de Rothschild '47 that he'd just been pouring for the banquet guests.
"Oh my," Princess Marigold whispered. Then, cradling the whimpering dog, she turned and called, "Flopsy! Mopsy!" The remaining two dogs ran to her, and together, the little retinue swept out of the dining room.
Queen Olympia rose from her seat. "Marigold!" she shouted. "You come back here!" Fenleigh raised his head and bared his teeth, approximating Olympia's look.
Marigold, her back straight and stiff, kept going. She attempted to slam the tall dining hall doors behind her, but two burly footmen caught them before they could crash shut. Marigold hurried on, rushing up the sweeping staircase with her dogs.
Christian had to admire the arm on her, shoving those heavy doors so hard while holding on to her distressed pet.
"What?" King Swithbert said. "What happened to Marigold?" Nobody paid any attention to him.
"I say, old chap," Prince Cyprian said smugly to Sir Magnus, "do you think that furthered your suit with the princess?"
"It was an accident," Sir Magnus muttered unhappily. "The little devil scared me. I never liked dogs, anyway."
"Well, it's done now," Prince Cyprian gloated. "Accident or not, I wonder what you can do to atone. I'm quite sure she took note of the way I generously fed the little ... devils, as you so colorfully call them. Did you know she raised them after their mother died? Fed them with a baby bottle every four hours around the clock, I'm told. She couldn't love them more if they were her own children."
"I didn't know that," Sir Magnus said, stricken. Then he straightened his shoulders and affected a more manly demeanor, though Christian could see that his knees were shaking under the table. "I'm sure I'll be able to explain to the princess what happened."
Christian no longer favored the smug and crafty Prince Cyprian. But he wasn't so much in favor of Magnus, either, who seemed harmless enough but not even close to Marigold in spirit, brains, and grit. To be honest, he didn't like thinking about Marigold marrying
anybody.
It gave him a pang right in the center of his chest.
Marigold never came back to the table, even though Queen Olympia sent several volleys of servants to fetch her. King Swithbert kept asking what was going on, but nobody ever answered him. Cyprian and Magnus gave each other suspicious glances for the rest of the dinner, and the other guests got so rowdy that by the time the dessert arrived, there had been five fights, three threatened duels, and one broken engagement. Christian wondered whether five kinds of wine at dinner was really such a good idea. And he wondered where Marigold had gone and what she was doing. He bet she could use a best friend right about now.
It was very late when the dinner was over, the en-tertainers had finished their juggling and dancing and madrigal singing, and the guests had staggered off to their beds.
Christian and the other servants were left to tidy up the mess that had been made of the dining hallâspilled wine, scattered nutshells, dropped utensils, and various forgotten handkerchiefs, veils, shawls, and, inexplicably, a set of wooden false teeth. Christian knew that if these people had to pick up after themselves for just one week, they'd learn to be a lot tidier. Even he had learned to clean up the messes he made with his inventions. Being waited on hand and foot was not good for one's personal development.
When he finally made it to his sleeping place in the straw of the stable loft, he was so exhausted, physically and emotionally, that he was out like a log, as Ed would have said. His last thought as he plunged into sleep was of his hand touching Marigold's under the distressed dogâand remembering that with that touch, she
Christian felt as if he'd downed a fast couple of glasses of the Château Mutton de Rothschild '47 that he'd just been pouring for the banquet guests.
"Oh my," Princess Marigold whispered. Then, cradling the whimpering dog, she turned and called, "Flopsy! Mopsy!" The remaining two dogs ran to her, and together, the little retinue swept out of the dining room.
Queen Olympia rose from her seat. "Marigold!" she shouted. "You come back here!" Fenleigh raised his head and bared his teeth, approximating Olympia's look.
Marigold, her back straight and stiff, kept going. She attempted to slam the tall dining hall doors behind her, but two burly footmen caught them before they could crash shut. Marigold hurried on, rushing up the sweeping staircase with her dogs.
Christian had to admire the arm on her, shoving those heavy doors so hard while holding on to her distressed pet.
"What?" King Swithbert said. "What happened to Marigold?" Nobody paid any attention to him.
"I say, old chap," Prince Cyprian said smugly to Sir Magnus, "do you think that furthered your suit with the princess?"
"It was an accident," Sir Magnus muttered unhappily. "The little devil scared me. I never liked dogs, anyway."
"Well, it's done now," Prince Cyprian gloated. "Accident or not, I wonder what you can do to atone. I'm quite sure she took note of the way I generously fed the little ... devils, as you so colorfully call them. Did you know she raised them after their mother died? Fed them with a baby bottle every four hours around the clock, I'm told. She couldn't love them more if they were her own children."
"I didn't know that," Sir Magnus said, stricken. Then he straightened his shoulders and affected a more manly demeanor, though Christian could see that his knees were shaking under the table. "I'm sure I'll be able to explain to the princess what happened."
Christian no longer favored the smug and crafty Prince Cyprian. But he wasn't so much in favor of Magnus, either, who seemed harmless enough but not even close to Marigold in spirit, brains, and grit. To be honest, he didn't like thinking about Marigold marrying
anybody.
It gave him a pang right in the center of his chest.
Marigold never came back to the table, even though Queen Olympia sent several volleys of servants to fetch her. King Swithbert kept asking what was going on, but nobody ever answered him. Cyprian and Magnus gave each other suspicious glances for the rest of the dinner, and the other guests got so rowdy that by the time the dessert arrived, there had been five fights, three threatened duels, and one broken engagement. Christian wondered whether five kinds of wine at dinner was really such a good idea. And he wondered where Marigold had gone and what she was doing. He bet she could use a best friend right about now.
It was very late when the dinner was over, the en-tertainers had finished their juggling and dancing and madrigal singing, and the guests had staggered off to their beds.
Christian and the other servants were left to tidy up the mess that had been made of the dining hallâspilled wine, scattered nutshells, dropped utensils, and various forgotten handkerchiefs, veils, shawls, and, inexplicably, a set of wooden false teeth. Christian knew that if these people had to pick up after themselves for just one week, they'd learn to be a lot tidier. Even he had learned to clean up the messes he made with his inventions. Being waited on hand and foot was not good for one's personal development.
When he finally made it to his sleeping place in the straw of the stable loft, he was so exhausted, physically and emotionally, that he was out like a log, as Ed would have said. His last thought as he plunged into sleep was of his hand touching Marigold's under the distressed dogâand remembering that with that touch, she
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