It was his skin tone that bothered her. At first, she’d thought he was simply tanned by the sun, but on closer inspection, she noticed he appeared very jaundiced. Probably from his failing liver. She cleared her throat, thinking it might be polite to inquire of his health. But he spoke first.
“Adelaide Katelin.” He spoke her name, with tenderness, in a German accent. “You know, that was my mother’s name.”
“I just learned that from Anton—I mean, Herr Balazs.”
He waved a hand. “Is all right. You call him Anton. He is good boy, no?”
She nodded with a nervous smile.
“You look like your mother.” His voice sounded husky. He fumbled for his jacket pocket and extracted a linen handkerchief, which he used to dab the corners of his eyes. “I know she is gone . . . too soon. I am sorry for your loss, mein lieber.”
“Thank you.” She knew mein lieber meant “my dear,” and she was touched to be called such a sweet term of endearment. “I loved my mother very much. And I miss her still.”
“Ja.” He sighed. “I still miss my mutter, and I am old.”
She wasn’t sure how old he was but suspected he looked older than his years.
“She never married?” His emerald eyes probed into hers. “Is that true?”
“That’s true.”
“And she never spoke of me?” His head tilted toward her in a way that suggested vulnerability. “You never knew of me?”
Adelaide pursed her lips, realizing how much she suddenly wanted to protect him. Didn’t want to hurt him. “It was her secret.”
He nodded slowly. “Ja. Her secret.” He gazed past her now, toward the window, but she sensed he was looking much farther away, beyond the landscape out there. For another long moment neither of them spoke.
“I am glad you came, Adelaide.” He smiled and, like the sun breaking through the clouds, his face lit up as he held his hands up at arm’s length. “I welcome you to Montovia. What do you think of our small principality?”
“It’s beautiful! The mountains, the rolling hills, the little farms with meadows full of sheep and cows—it’s all so picturesque. And the village looks perfectly charming. I can’t wait to explore the shops. And this palace is like . . .” She trailed off, searching for more sophisticated words. “It’s like a fairy tale.”
He clapped his hands happily. “That is exactly what your mother say when she come here.” His smile faded. “If only she stayed.”
Adelaide didn’t know what to say. How could her mother have possibly remained in a country where the king had wanted her out?
“I begged her to stay.”
She felt confused. “But your father . . . I thought he disapproved.”
“He did disapprove. But I told Susan we would marry anyway.”
“What about your—”
“I have a brother. Prince Farcus could rule. He was only a boy then, but by the time our father passed, Farcus was a man. He could’ve taken the crown in my stead.”
“You would have given up the crown for my mother?”
He nodded solemnly. “I loved her.”
“Did my mother know this?”
“I told her.” He held his palms upward. “Susan said I would come to regret it. She left without a word. Nothing. My mother confessed, much later, that my father helped her to go.”
“Do you think he told her to be quiet about her relationship with you? Perhaps even paid her off? Is that why she kept it a secret?”
“It is possible.” He leaned back in his chair with a weary sigh.
“Or perhaps she kept quiet out of her love for you.” Adelaide preferred to believe this. After all, as far as she knew, her mother had never had money.
He brightened slightly, but his eyes looked sad, or maybe just tired.
“I know you’ve been ill. I don’t want to wear you out with too much—”
“You do not wear me out,” he said, cutting her off. “You are fresh air and sunshine. Good food and excellent wine. You make me feel well. I am so very glad you are here.”
She smiled. “I’m very glad I’m here too.”
“Tell me about yourself, Adelaide. Your life, your interests.”
Without painting too pitiful a picture of her somewhat deprived childhood, she gave him a brief biography of her life and accomplishments. “And I’m nearly finished with law school.”
“My daughter a lawyer?” Pride shone in his eyes.
“I hope.”
“You do not speak of your love life. Such a beautiful young woman . . . is there no man?”
She shrugged. “Oh, I was involved with a guy for a few years, but his plans were different than mine. We went our separate ways.” She didn’t care to go into details over Brent’s insistence that they move in together . . . or that she’d been holding out for an engagement ring. It was all water under the bridge now.
“You spoke of Anton Balazs.” His brows arched and his eyes twinkled. “He is a handsome fellow—a very good man. Just a little older than you.”
Using her poker face, she simply nodded. “A valuable and helpful friend, no doubt.”
“Anton is the youngest member of Parliament.”
“He told me he works with his uncle, but he didn’t mention Parliament.” She couldn’t help but feel impressed.
“He is a humble man who represents a humble province.”
“He spoke fondly of his province.”
“His uncle is a good man too. I trust Albert Kovacs like a brother.”
“Speaking of brothers . . .” She instantly regretted her words, because his eyes grew very sad, and he reached for his handkerchief.
“I do not know what has become of Farcus,” he told her. “Albert has hired investigators, but no one is able to find him. I fear he is dead.”
She leaned forward, peering curiously at him. “But if he died on the fishing trip in Scotland, wouldn’t you have been notified?”
He slowly shook his head. “I do not know. Some are certain he has drowned. Maybe in a boating accident.”
“With no witnesses, no evidence, no body? That doesn’t make sense.”
“Prince Georg blames the Loch Ness Monster.” He scowled.
“You don’t believe that, do you?”
“No.” He looked more tired than ever, and Adelaide got out of her chair so she could kneel by his side. She took his hand.
“I’m sorry to have troubled you. Please, don’t worry. Perhaps your brother is simply enjoying an extended vacation. Maybe he met someone and plans to bring home a new wife. Wouldn’t that be nice?”
King Max smiled, clasping her hand with both of his. “You are good medicine, mein lieber. But you are right in your assessment. I am tired. Let me rest. You come back to dine with me . . . at six? I keep da hours of der Greis—a very old man. You come back then, ja?”
“Ja. I will see you at six.” She leaned over to kiss his cheek, which probably surprised her more than him, because he simply leaned back, closed his eyes, and smiled.
She stood and quietly slipped out to see both the king’s aide and a uniformed nurse waiting with anxious expressions. She was barely out the door before they hurried past her to check on the king. She went back down the dimly lit hallway, hoping that Anton had stuck around like he’d promised. The youngest member of Parliament and he’d never said a word.