Èstelle Guide was not the kind of lady who would let a simple snowball, stop her from winning the Prince's favour. She was the perfect candidate, she attended the best public schools, did years abroad, studied, albeit illegally in 4littleEngland politics and cultural studies. But she was not the only one of the elite, no, in those circles, it was an open secret that no one talked about, if it leaked out to the common people, this scandal would amount to a revolution. She had agreed with her parents to snuggle up to the prince, but she had not expected to really like him. He was charming and genuinely honest, she liked that. One might have thought that meeting a man who had servants from front to back would be arrogant and conceited, reserved. On the contrary, he was, his family had also welcomed her with open and warm feeling. She was even allowed to ride with them in their private car, however she had managed to do so. Hoping that Prince Nicolas would run after her to reassure her, she had hurried off like a theatrical figure of Shakespeare. But her plan didn't work, she found herself at the edge of the forest and without Nicolas. He really is an idiot, she thought to herself. In the meantime, the on the surface of her face had melted and was running down her collarbone under her coat. But a lady, she had the gift of not letting an inconvenience show. She strutted up to a group of ladies and listened to their conversation. "Have you seen yet, Maybelle is not here.Does she really think she would be so clever and we wouldn't notice." Lady Eliza rolled her eyes and was startled to see the tall and slender Èstelle standing beside her. Unbeknownst to Èstelle, they were calling her the ice lady behind her back. "What happened to me, you went into the forest with princes, didn't you?" Èstelle didn't make a face, but her eyes spoke volumes. Sissley, who was slightly shorter and wore a reddish sheen in her hair, took her in her arms, stiffening more at that. "He just dumped you, if it makes you feel better, he does that to other ladies too, none of them seem good enough for him, except for Belle, but she obviously doesn't want him." "I agree, why is she still here anyway? I mean, she's obviously just putting up with it. No wonder, a four is not to be trusted either way. On my estate, we have extreme security checks and declarations of secrecy, you don't want to be robbed overnight, after all.", a lady in a green coat and ankle boots interfered in the discussion. Èstelle now also spoke up, "I don't give a damn about this Maybelle or Belle, whatever she calls herself. She has no business here. Prince Nicolas is obviously only so fascinated by her because she comes from the lowest view. She's new, she's rough, she's uneducated. I can well imagine that he would like to sow his wild oats before choosing one of us." The other ladies were silent after her words, whether they agreed with her or not. Èstelle had this such intimidating air about her that no one would dare contradict her, except for one. Martin had approached the ladies after hearing his lady's name come up more often. He felt obliged to defend the honour of Lady Belle Woodstock. Even if he did not want to admit it to himself, he had more feelings for her than he was allowed. Her appearance alone was an apparition to him. But even if he could not suppress these emotions, he knew he never stood a chance. Her heart belonged to the prince, the future ruler of this land. What did he have to offer her? Suddenly jealousy sprouted in him. She would be locked up, in a golden cage to be sure, but always behind her husband. Martin, could give her freedom and a rise in rank, they could move to the United Kingdom of the Teutons and build their future there. All just wishful thinking. He was also much OLDER than her, he was in his thirties and she was in her early twenties, if that. Martin didn't look it on the outside, but thanks to his good genes, he had hardly any wrinkles on his face. By now he was in the vicinity of the blasphemers. As a guard, he had made a habit of standing as discreetly as possible within a suitable radius of his subject without attracting attention. His arms were folded behind him and he bided his time before interjecting with a sigh.
"I would advise you not to judge others before you know the full story. Lady Woodstock may not have grown up in suitable circumstances, yet she had enjoyed a good education," Martin spoke calmly, but loftily. All except Èstelle, lowered their heads. With Lady Guide, Martin realised, it would not be so easy to make her see reason. Inwardly, it gave him hope if the Prince chose her. He had spent a lot of time with his lady since the fatal tea conversation. It had all started when he discovered her in the library and they were, believe it or not, talking politics. The guards of the castle were the only ones who knew about the secret elitist education of the nobility on the part of women. They did not pay a penny, everything was drawn from taxes. Martin moved on and stopped Conner, one of the newest additions to the team. The latter seemed quite distracted, his eyes fixed on a lady. Martin whispered in his ear, "Own your feelings Conner, Holly Larsen, is not meant for you." Martin felt something like fatherly feelings and took on a protective role, this he did with anyone new to the palace. What Martin didn't know was that Conner felt the same way. Although Martin was only 10 years older, he had so much more experience in his field than the freshly dismissed academy student. His motives for choosing this career were not honourable. It was purely selfish. Conner wanted to please the women in his small village, he was a nobody, and he looked weak. Since his academy days, his body defined itself and his self-confidence increased. But even though he put on an iron face, under Martin's presence, the façade crumbled. "How can I, when her mere proximity makes my heart beat." Martin sympathised, knowing full well how draining this kind of love was. "It will pass, write down your feelings and then burn the letter." A sigh ran through him. Martin tried to distract him and asked, "Do you know where the Prince and Lady Woodstock are?" Conner nodded, they were in the forest, Archer had followed them and was guarding them. Archer, an egomaniac, as he was in the book. Suddenly someone cleared their throat behind the two of them. They turned and recognised the queen in front of them. They bowed and spoke onisono, "Your Majesty." She nodded and they rose again, before her hand she carried a handbag and pink. In her fur bonnet the wind pranced through the individual hair fibres. "Martin be so good and fetch my son back, we would like to go on," she made her request. Martin nodded, "Of course, we'll take care of it." She turned and made her way back to her husband, whom she loved dearly despite his faults. Her love had not had it easy in her life. The people still hated her for Mehr divorcing his wife Charlotte-Luise because of her. Then came the unexpected death of the king. Overnight she had gone from mistress, to mother and queen. Her marriage suffered greatly during this time, and it didn't help that Charlotte-Luise tried to push herself back into her relationship, as she was just as tired of this life in the palace. She just wanted to get her status as queen back. Alice was glad that at least her son and his half-siblings were getting along well. She sat back in the car and turned on the heater. Now, thankfully, the cars were no longer dependent on the battery for running the heater, it had a drive of its own, however it worked. Alice had never been afin in technology, very different from her father. Of her family, only her siblings were left. All were scattered all over the world, marrying into royalty or high office. She came from humble beginnings, she knew how hard it was to acquire everything to survive in this aristocracy. Queen Alice Valentina Kantonie, inwardly hoped that Èstelle was no longer riding in her carriage. What did her son see in her? She was arrogant and conceited. But even if Lady Woodstock was quite a bit ahead of her in sympathy, she still couldn't match Lady Guide's knowledge of manners and politics. She would definitely be the better princess, yet definitely the wrong bride for her only son. At that moment the carriage door opened and King More stuck his head in mischievously, "Here you are my darling, aren't you well?"
He added when he saw Alice's face. She shook her head and openly expressed her opinion about Èstelle. The king looked around before closing the door and sliding into the passenger seat: "I still think she is the best candidate for Nicolas than anyone so far and she has connections with Canada. You know, in the event that the Teutons and France wage war against us, we can flee there." Alice raised an eyebrow, her husband was always so pragmatic, "First of all, France is already at war with us, the Stone War has been going on for ages now and the United Empire of the Teutons is spreading further and further. Lucky for us that we are on an island." Mehr was silent and thought about what else he should add. Although his wife had never studied, she usually knew politics better than he did. He loved her for that. He still blamed himself for choosing Charlotte-Luise first and against her. But as Crown Prince at the time, a sense of duty outweighed his heart. That was why he was so eager for his son to take Èstelle as his wife and not Maybelle, the people would accept her more, as would the press. "Honestly Mehr, don't you want your son to find happiness without drama?" she glanced at the steering wheel. "Of course, if he loves this Maybelle so much he can make her his mistress." Alice was stunned at what she had just heard from her king, "You can't be serious!" By now the heating had been turned off and her bonnet rested on her knees. "I don't know what's wrong with you," he said, unbuttoning his jacket, why did Alice always have to be so hot in the car, he was literally sweating. "As you know, that's how it started with us," he added with a shrug. Alice slumped back in her seat and whispered, "You have no idea how awful that was for me, our marriage almost broke up because of it." Mehr fell silent and was about to retort something, but someone yanked open the back car door and squeezed into the back seat. Alice's gaze slid to the rearview mirror and she saw her son. Their eyes met and they smiled at each other. Another person was getting into the car, please not Èstelle, please not Èstelle, she prayed inwardly. But it was neither Èstelle nor Maybelle, it was Holly Larsen. Alice smiled at her and inwardly wondered why Holly Larsen was now riding with them. The Prince supplied the answer, "Lady Guide preferred to ride with the other ladies and there was no room left for Holly, I hope you don't mind that I brought her." His parents replied in the negative and Alice pressed the start stop button on her car. The engine started and they rolled out onto the road with the other sedans in tow. More very much objected to his unexpected passenger. Molly Larsen was an outcast noblewoman and not at all worthy of his son, the future ruler of Little England. But he had better keep quiet, as he had already angered his wife. Fortunately, they soon arrived in Surrey. Alice steered the coach through the gate and stopped in front of the estate. The tyres squealed as they stopped over the gravel with sand. Nicolas and Holly left the car before them, Alice and Mehr lingering in their seats for a while. "I think we should talk about some things..." she whispered. "Yes, I agree," he replied.