The Serenade: The Prince and the Siren [Daughters of the Empire 2] (BookStrand Publishing Romance) (32 page)

“You see, Your Highness, everything in our home has a special meaning for us,” Lady Ravensdale added softly. “And do you enjoy your home, Your Highness?”

“M–my
home
?” he stuttered. Was he destined to lose speech with this family?

“The palace,” encouraged Lady Ravensdale.

“Ah, the Palacio Real
,
” repeated Alejandro. “It serves its purpose.” There was the general hum of laughter, though it was a fact that almost nothing in the palace had any meaning to him.

“
It serves its purpose
?” Nicolette giggled. “Your Highness, you jest! The Palacio Real
is the largest palace in all of Europe!”

“Have you seen it, Lady Nicolette?” he asked with interest.

“No, I have not had the pleasure.”

“
It is magnificent
,” Alejandro stated.

“Since you have expressed an interest, would you like Nicolette to give you a tour of our home after dinner, Your Highness?” asked Lady Ravensdale.

Alejandro was not so sure that he wanted to be with the hoyden unsupervised. Should he take Esteban along as his bodyguard?

Ah, well, Esteban was never far behind anyway. He was probably safe. Between the two of them, they could likely deflect any damage she would no doubt inflict. And he did have a doctor on his staff for minor cuts and abrasions. He rubbed the side of his leg involuntarily.

“That would be most enjoyable, Lady Ravensdale,” he replied stiffly.

Nicolette cast a dazzling smile upon him, but he knew very well it sprang more from self-satisfaction than from any real warmth. He looked forward to giving her a much-deserved set down, something that was clearly overlooked in her upbringing to her own detriment and to his. He longed to turn that breathtakingly beautiful smile into thoughtful reflection.

The soup was removed, and the next course was brought, a turbotin au champagne, followed by a filet de boeuf La Vallière, then a light and delicious soufflé. Nicolette conversed easily with everyone, he noted with irritation. She reserved her most meaningless and formulaic remarks for him—he supposed he should be grateful—but he found that it aggravated rather than pleased him.

“Your Highness, what do you reply when you are asked if Spain sunk the
Maine
?” Hamilton Bromberg, a lawyer from the Americas, interjected into his thoughts of complacency. “I would truly like to hear the definitive answer and abandon all hearsay. One acquires so much misinformation. It is marvelous to be able to go to the source for the truth.”

This question had been put to him in many forms over the past six years, with almost as much insincerity. A hush fell over the dining room, and all eyes turned to him. There was a tension in the atmosphere that could have been cut with a knife.

“Possibly this is not an appropriate venue for that conversation, Your Highness,” stated
Théophile Delcassé flatly, clearly annoyed with Bromberg.

Alejandro felt the muscles in his hand tightening. He had to prepare himself for these implied attacks and reply cordially if he were to be king, though he would have very well liked to have taken Bromberg by the throat and choked that smug expression off his face.

“The Spanish Government and the sovereign ruler denied sinking the
Maine
.” He waved his hand to
Delcassé
. “There is your answer, Mr. Bromberg. Spaniards value their honor above all else and would never deface it with lies.”

“Interesting. President Roosevelt said—quite forcefully, in fact—that the Spaniards sunk the
Maine
,” Bromberg replied, his manner now more blatantly challenging.

“We will die to protect our honor, Señor Bromberg,” Esteban added softly. “You therefore can well imagine how insulting it is to a Spaniard to question his word.” Alejandro was surprised to see the muscles in Esteban’s face twitching.

“Americans care about their honor as well, Prince,” Bromberg retorted.

“Of course,” intonated Alejandro with a polite nod.

Alejandro noted that Lady Ravensdale frowned. He turned back to Bromberg, who appeared pleased with himself. Six years ago, no one would have dared or wished to speak thus to Spanish royalty. But no doubt Bromberg would later boast of his rudeness with pride. Since Spain had lost the war of 1898, and thereafter lost Cuba and the Philippines, the once-great imperial power was transformed overnight into a second-ranking nation-state. He did not personally care if people sneered at Spain—all he cared about was the people of Spain and their welfare—but every contact was potentially important.

“How could President Roosevelt have known?” inquired Alejandro politely, though this interchange tested all of his control.

“Excuse me?” demanded Bromberg.

“Theodore Roosevelt is a brave and honest man who lives by his convictions, an impulsive and energetic man, but he is not omniscient. How could he have known, Mr. Bromberg?” Alejandro shrugged. “The truth of the matter is that, between 1895 and 1898, the United States Navy
itself
experienced thirteen ship fires caused by spontaneous combustion. Numerous
American
personnel, including naval officers, explosive experts, nautical engineers, and ship architects, testified to reporters the very unpopular opinion in opposition to their own president that it was their belief that a spontaneous combustion in the coal bunkers—an accident—had very likely destroyed the
Maine
.”

“Coal-bunker fires are notoriously treacherous,” Dr. Stanton agreed. “An undetected fire could have heated the bulkhead, which separates the coal from the powder. The result would be an explosion. Alternatively, the explanation that Spain set an underwater mine beneath the
Maine
is far less plausible. It is scientifically unlikely that an underwater mine could have set off the
Maine’s
munitions in the shallow water which moored the
Maine
.”

“I know that you wish to believe your American hero, Mr. Bromberg—and I respect him myself—but, if my word is not good enough for you, do not these facts at least raise the
possibility
of Spanish innocence in this matter?” Alejandro smiled.

“And yet it is an undisputed fact that the United States Navy sunk the Spanish fleet at Cavite and Santiago de Cuba, a deliberate retaliation for a probable accident,” remarked Lady Elaina with unabashed clarity. Alejandro could well see why she was a renowned political hostess. He glanced at Nicolette, wondering what she was thinking. His sudden concern for her opinion struck him as odd.

“And yet,” noted Prime Minister Combes, “I do not support the Spanish position either. Forgive me, Your Highness, but to go to war against one of the world’s leading naval powers, without the backing of a single ally, was unwise.”

Alejandro thought so as well, but he could not very well be expected to criticize his king and father. His composure remained unchanged.

“No doubt those in power knew they could not win before they went to war with the Americans,” remarked Nicolette matter-of-factly, moving a piece of beef onto her fork.

Alejandro turned and stared at her, red flowers peeking out from behind her ear. He was astonished at her observation. The truth was that the politicians and the monarchy had well known that it was a war that could not be won and had yet used every tool at their disposal to incite the general population to support the war with patriotic fervor.

But how could Lady Nicolette have an inkling of this?

There were mutterings with some light laughter, but he noted that Nicolette was nonplussed.

“You intrigue me, Lady Nicolette,” Alejandro remarked sardonically. “You think that Spain went to war with the Americans knowing that She would lose?” Again there was a murmur of disbelief. He bestowed his haughtiest look upon her. He wanted to see if she would wilt under his stare.

She did not.

“How could the government not have known?” Nicolette asked rhetorically, directing her eyes unabashedly to him. “I knew. Everyone here knew.”

“The conditions were not favorable,” agreed President Loubet, “and Spain’s military was not on par with the Americans’.”

“Those in power were well aware of that fact, I have no doubt.” Nicolette nodded.

“Then why did Spain go to war, Lady Nicolette?” asked Alejandro without expression.

“You answered that question yourself, Your Highness.” A slow smile came to her lips.

“Did I?”

“
Honor
.”

“I see.”

“Why does anyone go to war?” she quizzed him.

“Pride, revenge, acquisition. On rare occasion, defense,” stated Lord Ravensdale.

“I see your point, Nicolette. In this case, Spain could not concede defeat to the Americans without a fight,” added Lady Elaina. “To turn and run with one’s tail between one’s legs—or so it appeared to Spain’s politicians—was unacceptable.”

“The politicians’ reputations and their honor, and more importantly their paid governmental positions, might thus be salvaged. And at no personal cost to themselves.” Nicolette shrugged, taking another bite of
filet de boeuf La Vallière.

“An interesting theory, Lady Nicolette,” he remarked in his most flippant tones. “You think that the political elite knowingly sacrificed the lives of brave soldiers to save face?”

“And for personal gain,” Lord Ravensdale added.

“And yet, I hold the Spanish people accountable as well,” Nicolette added thoughtfully.

“How good of you to relegate the blame.”

“For allowing their elected officials to fan their vainglory,” Nicolette continued as if he had agreed wholeheartedly with her in the regal manner he had grown to expect from her. “How can it ever be right to kill in order to heighten national pride?”

“To take a life in order that one might elevate one’s mood for a moment or two,” reflected Lord Ravensdale.

“This is precisely the instance when a monarch can rule better than a politician,”
Théophile Delcassé
interjected, nodding to Alejandro. “There is no future election to be won. A monarch can choose the right course of action according to his conscience.”

Émile Combes raised his eyebrows in perceivable discomfort.

“I realize that you were not the king, Prince Alejandro.” Nicolette studied him intently. “…but I wonder how you might have proceeded.”

“You cannot expect me to second-guess my king, Lady Nicolette. In addition, there were many players outside of the monarchy, not least of all the Americans, who are likewise characterized by nationalism, an antagonistic foreign policy, and separatism. We have that in common with the Americans.” He nodded to Mr. Bromberg. “I know that you will forgive my plain speaking, Mr. Bromberg, in light of your own.”

“I stand behind President Roosevelt,” Bromberg grunted as he stroked his moustache.

“And I my king. I understand your feeling and commend your loyalty, Mr. Bromberg. We Spaniards are a fiercely loyal people as well,” Alejandro replied, dabbing his mouth with his handkerchief. “On the other hand, I, personally, can admire a great man without viewing him as a god. It is always a mistake to make one’s heroes divine.”

“Mr. Woodford, the American diplomat to Spain during the crisis, was equally naive,” added
Théophile Delcassé
. “Woodford never comprehended the extent of Spanish patriotism or understood its implications.”

“Woodford had no knowledge of Spanish and was inexperienced in diplomacy. He was wholly unqualified for the job,” muttered Lord Ravensdale nonchalantly. He was clearly accustomed to speaking the truth as he saw it, a strange quality in a diplomat, Alejandro observed with interest. The entire family interested him and had from the instant of seeing Nicolette, he had to admit to himself.