"An 'old goat' you are fortunate to have, young lady," a female voice came from the threshold. "And you will not even have that much, if you are heard speaking in such an outrageous fashion."
Eddie turned to see Anne Cathrine's governess, Mistress Sehested, standing in the doorway. Still in her late twenties, she was regarded as a handsome woman throughout the court, though her expression was perpetually severe. Today, she was dressed in turquoise satin, and the cut was fine as any he'd seen in the palace. Her face was tight with anger.
"How can you even think of letting that man paw Anne Cathrine?" he demanded.
"She will do her duty," Mistress Sehested said, "as do we all. But I expect a commoner like you would know nothing about that."
Eddie's hand went to his stump, concealed in a baggy fold of hose. "Now, there you are wrong," he said, holding his head high. "I do know a bit about doing one's duty, however hard it gets."
The woman followed Eddie's gaze down to his truncated leg. "Any peasant can get in the way of a cannon ball. There's nothing noble about that." She stared at Eddie coldly. "Anne Cathrine, your presence is requested by your father." Then she left with a sweep of her full skirts.
"You should not anger her like that." Anne Cathrine's voice was only a whisper. Her fingers wrung the wet lace of her handkerchief. "She never forgets a slight, nor fails to remedy such."
"Neither do I," Eddie said, and was surprised at the steel in his own voice.
Three weeks later, the answer to the king's latest missive arrived from Grantville. Christian summoned him to the royal study.
Anne Cathrine was already present, head bowed, very subdued since the king had accepted Dinesen's petition for her hand in marriage. Her half-brothers, Princes Christian and Frederick, stood at the back of the room.
The King pulled the single sheet of creamy paper out of the envelope and read:
"Most gracious King Christian IV,
"We send you greeting, with renewed good wishes for your health and that of your family.
"Again, we are glad for word of Lieutenant Cantrell's continuing recovery. We hope to see him safe in Grantville in the near future.
"Upon receipt of your letter, we dispatched Herr Presley along with a long-range rifle, complete with telescopic sights, to Denmark, but word has reached us that he fell prey to bandits and the gun was lost. We have sent troops to recover the weapon, and rest assured that when it is found, we will send it promptly to you.
"In the meantime, please accept our regrets for the delay and tell Lieutenant Cantrell that his betrothed, Miss Marilyn Monroe, remains in good health.
"Respectfully,
"Michael Stearns, Prime Minister, United States of Europe"
An involuntary snort escaped Eddie. He tried to muffle it with a faked sneeze. Marilyn Monroe? Mike was really getting into the spirit of things.
"You are betrothed?" King Christian motioned him forward, so Eddie hobbled with his crutch across the inlaid wood floor. He was steadier now than he'd been even a week ago and moved with more assurance. The monarch's cold blue eyes studied him. "She is very beautiful, this Monroe woman?"
Eddie looked at his boot. "Some people think so," he said.
"Then We wish you joy," the king said, "when you return home."
"Uh, thanks," Eddie said.
Anne Cathrine gave him a strange look, then left in a flurry of rustling silk. Eddie's heart gave a lurch. She seemed upset.
"It is unfortunate about the rifle," Christian said, appearing not to notice. "I was looking forward to having it duplicated."
Balanced on his single foot, Eddie sighed. "Bandits have been a problem since we came here from the future." He moved several steps closer. "Have your craftsmen been able to reproduce the lenses from the binoculars yet?"
Christian scowled. "No. I have summoned a lens grinder from Amsterdam. Once he arrives, then We will see."
Mike Stearns had taken a calculated risk in sending the binoculars, Eddie thought. Just because the technology to make such things didn't exist here yet, that didn't mean people of this era weren't smart. With a good example of what could be accomplished, they would figure the process out.
As for himself, he wasn't fooled by that letter. No high-power rifle had been sent to Denmark. There were no bandits. Stearns was stalling. He had something in mind, some plan, even if it was just to put off Christian indefinitely while Gustavus Adolphus built up his forces and moved men and resources into place.
All Eddie could do to help was play along. He would never see Grantville again, never go home, but, so far, it seemed he was the only person in Denmark who knew it.
Anne Cathrine did not come for her language lesson the next day or the next. Finally Eddie sought her out in the apartments she shared with her sisters.
A young maid opened the door, then stared at Eddie, her mouth frozen in an "O."
"Please say that Lieutenant Edward Cantrell is here to see Anne Cathrine," he said in Danish, the words awkward on his tongue.
The door closed in his face and he was left teetering on his one foot and feeling stupid. Voices sounded from within, muffled and unintelligible. Finally, the door opened again. Anne Cathrine stood before him, stiff and proper, as though they hadn't spent hours and hours together.
She inclined her head. As always, her red-gold hair was beautifully braided, but her cheeks were pale, almost as though she'd been sick. Her gown was dark green and very formal with tons of laces and gold and velvet trim. "What's up, dude?" she said carefully in English.
Eddie had to stifle a laugh. "I was worried," he said in Danish. "You did not come for your lessons."
Mistress Sehested's voice spoke sharply behind her in the royal apartments. Anne Cathrine glanced over her shoulder, then edged out into the hallway and closed the heavy oak door. "I am very busy at the moment," she said. "I have fittings for my wedding dress and…" Her voice trailed off and she bit her lip.
"He's really going to make you do it, then," he said, "marry that old goat?"
"Dinesen is quite… zealous on the subject of our union." A tear trailed down her wan cheek. "He asked Papa to move up the wedding date, so I am afraid I have no more time for American lessons."
"You can't marry him!" Eddie said in English. "It just isn't right!"
"But you are to be married too," the girl said and brushed away her tears with the back of her hand. "To this Marilyn Monroe."
"Oh, that." Eddie glanced around, but they were alone in the shadowy hallway. He could hear the wind howling outside. "Prime Minister Stearns doesn't know it yet, but Marilyn and I are calling that off."
Her blue eyes widened. "You are breaking your betrothal?"
"She's, um, in love with someone else," Eddie said, "this guy named John Kennedy. I'm not going to stand in their way. We just haven't announced it yet. In Grantville, we consider it immoral to marry someone you don't love."
"But," she said softly, "what about duty?"
"The pursuit of happiness is a duty," he said. "Marriages made without love and respect don't last. Just look at your mother and father."
"But Papa did love her," Anne Cathrine said. "He was so unhappy when she turned away from him."
Eddie remembered his own mother, who had stayed with an alcoholic husband when good sense would have dictated otherwise. "I will never marry anyone I don't love, and who doesn't love me back," he said. "And neither should you."
"But I have to do as I am bid."
"Not if you lived in Grantville," he said. He thought of Sharon Nichols, Julie Mackay, and Melissa Mailey. They could all explain this so much better than he ever could. "I wish I could take you there."
"As do I." Her blue eyes shone with unshed tears.
Eddie thought for a moment. "Isn't there anything about this Dinesen that would make your father change his mind, some secret, perhaps?"
"He and Papa have been drinking companions for a long time," Anne Cathrine said. "His wife died in childbirth two years ago, and, when we are in the same room, he looks at me as though he could consume me like a hot apple pastry." She shuddered. "I barely know the man, and never wanted to."