4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

"They both distrust the advice of heaven; but what harm will it do to try?"Ovid, MetamorphosesThe Ajuda Palace’s courtyard soaked up dawn’s first sun rays. Outside the gates, the crowd awaited to see their princess off. Musicians entertained with mouth organs and concertinas. Hawkers sang of their fresh fruit, their voices rising above the swallows’ excited chirps.

"Diomedes Da Veiga, I hate to keep my subjects waiting." Isabel tapped her boot on the graveled ground.

His eyes rounded in feigned innocence. "Why, Viscount Penafiel must have had an emergency, I assure you. His philanthropy knows no bounds. If you had lived here in the past four years, you would have known how people come from far and wide to ask for his help. I’m sure he is solving one of the world’s greatest problems right now."

She eyed him askance. Could it be true? With Diomedes, one couldn’t be certain. Still, she loved science, and a dutiful subject was an asset to his country.

"Perhaps I’m lucky Luis found me this paragon." She chanced a peek at Viscount Penafiel’s entourage—a black lacquered Landau and three Lusitano horses.

The chestnut stallion stomped his hooves, no doubt more impatient to start the trip than Isabel. Why had she not thought to bring her mare from Mafra Palace? Riding would undoubtedly make the carriage portion of the journey to Comillas livelier.

"Indeed, you are, your Highness." Diomedes bowed, and a smile lifted the corner of his lips.

"Do you know him personally or just his fame as a scientist?" She grew up with Diomedes, but that didn’t change the fact he was a rake. If Viscount Penafiel frequented the same fast set, he must be cut from the same cloth. Nothing would be worse than spending her summer with a dissolute escort, no matter his scientific accomplishments.

Diomedes sighed. "Hardly. Viscount Penafiel wouldn’t deign to frequent the same shady places I do."

Her shoulders came down a notch. "Is it true he is a polymath?"

"Gospel truth, my dear."

"What type of scientist?"

"Exactly the one you are thinking of."

Isabel smiled. "With a lumpy beard, thick glasses, and hair sticking out from his head?"

"You bet he is. Funny chemical smells adore him, and he doesn’t survive outside the lab without his case of experiments and potions."

"And is he old?"

"Definitively. A cantankerous old man, he is. Likes to grumble and has bouts of moodiness…" Dio eyed the gate, furrowing his blond brow. "And sleeps late in his dotage, it seems."

Isabel nodded, relieved.

Another thirty minutes passed, and no one arrived.

Isabel could no longer wait. "Tell the Viscount he can meet me midway."

Diomedes frowned. "Why the haste? What if you forgot a bauble or two?"

"I’ve all I need," she said pointedly. For the past week, she had prepared herself for this mission. She studied history, from the rise of the Spanish Empire and the death of the last Habsburg monarch to the first Bourbon to assume the throne, the Napoleonic invasion, and Queen Isabela’s forced abdication two years before. She went to sleep early and woke before dawn to ensure everything would be done correctly.

Clicking her tongue, she called for Sophie and Dolly to enter the coach. Dio caught her hand in his. Isabel lifted her brows. Lean, with tight blond curls and soulful black eyes, he was a very handsome man. Still, while all of society looked at him as prime groom material, she only saw the gangly youth who had pulled her braids when she was ten.

"He will arrive, I assure you."

"The time for reassurances ended fifteen minutes ago."

"What about your brother? Won’t he object if you take off by yourself?"

Luis valued punctuality, too. And she didn’t mean to pull rank, but a viscount shouldn’t leave a princess of the realm waiting. Not even an old scientist. It was not done.

She had placed her feet on the stool to climb atop the carriage when a honking made her pause. The crowd lining the palace gate parted, their cheers obliterated by a blaring horn.

A dreadful roaring came next. The horse flanking her coach pranced and reared, almost toppling the cavalry guard.

Isabel craned her neck to see the motive of such a ruckus. An automobile sped through the driveway, lifting pebbles in its wake. She had seen the fanciful model once, in possession of a railroad magnate in London.

A gentleman occupied the burgundy bench. He drove, eyes protected by green-tinted glasses, a red scarf flying behind him like a castle’s pennant, his gloved hand gripping the wheel, a wicked smile on his lips.

Isabel clutched her parasol as a fuzzy feeling invaded her stomach.

The coupé vehicle came to a screeching halt, blocking the exit.

Dolly gaped at the man, her fair cheeks turning crimson. “Oh, my. I think this is my cue to swoon...”

Sophie’s eyes rounded, and a little sigh escaped her mouth. “If all aristos are beau gosse like this, the Republican cause is hopeless. Totalement désespérée.”

The stranger approached their small group. His dinner jacket and wine-colored silk vest were mussed. No doubt the same clothes he had worn the night before.

He took off his glasses and hat. Isabel blinked several times.

It was the garden rake!

Her back went straight as a rod, and Isabel gasped. "What is he doing here?"

Diomedes laughed. "And this, my lovely Isabel, is your stuffy old escort."