CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER THREE

When Melissa entered Calvin Clement's office it was to find him deep in conversation with another man who, as far as age and demeanour were concerned, could have been his twin. There was something familiar about his face, and she understood why, when he was introduced to her as the Foreign Secretary.

'I didn't realise I was interrupting you, Clemmie,' she apologised, retreating to the door. 'I'll wait outside until you've finished.'

'There's no need, my dear. The Minister is here to see you.'

Melissa came back into the room, wondering why such an illustrious member of the Cabinet should wish to see her. She did not have to wait long for her answer. Motavia, it appeared, was of supreme importance to the safety of the Western world; its land position in Europe enabling it to act as the lynch pin in an elaborate defence system.

'Motavia has always been friendly towards us,' the Foreign Secretary went on, 'but it is equally anxious not to antagonise its Eastern neighbour. For some time we have been urging them to declare themselves our ally, but they have declined to do so. Mainly because they have a strong "opposition" party which is very anti the West.'

'They wouldn't be anti the West if they weren't poor,' Melissa commented.

'We are more than anxious to give them aid,' the Foreign Secretary said, 'but we must be careful not to give the Motavian Opposition Party a chance to say we're trying to take control of their country.'

'No one would believe that,' she expostulated.

'Clever politicians can make a hot-blooded electorate believe anything. And in Motavia at the moment there are a lot of young rebels who need cooling down. A steady job and money in their pocket would do the trick, but we have to make sure that the job and the money are not seen to be coming from the British Government. That is where the Benton Group can help.' He paused as though expecting Melissa to say something, and when she remained silent he spoke again. 'We know why Prince Louis came to see you today.'

Melissa turned angrily to her lawyer, but before she could speak, the Foreign Secretary intervened.

'The agreement your uncle made with the late Prince Piers has been known to Her Majesty's Government for many years. However we didn't anticipate Prince Louis's willingness to carry it out.'

'I wouldn't have called him particularly willing,' Melissa said shortly. 'Still, I wasn't willing to be a sacrifice either. So we've decided to abandon that part of the agreement. If the mineral rights are as valuable as they are assumed to be, we will be more than willing to pay for the entire exploitation. Marriage needn't come into it.'

'I am afraid it must.'

'I beg your pardon?'

A look of discomfort passed over Sir Donald's face. 'If your company financed the entire project, the Motavian Opposition Party would say the British Government was behind the deal.'

'That's preposterous! My company has no links with the Government.'

'Try telling that to an unscrupulous political party.'

'Then what do you suggest we do—sell out?' She looked at her lawyer. 'I suppose we could do that? I mean we haven't done anything with our rights in Motavia since we acquired them.' She turned to the Foreign Secretary again. 'I don't suppose you would like us to sell to the Slovenians?'

Sir Donald almost exploded at the idea. 'That's exactly what we do not want! They'd buy your rights tomorrow if they had the chance—and be delighted to show you a substantial profit.'

'Then what do you want us to do?' Melissa did not hide her exasperation. 'You don't want us to sell out, but you don't want us to go ahead with the investment. I can assure you Prince Louis has no intention of letting those minerals remain in the ground!'

'We don't want that either,' the Foreign Secretary replied. 'We are as anxious to see the Motavian economy improve as they are. But your company must put up the finance in such a way that their Opposition cannot use it as a political weapon.'

'How do we do that?'

'You are known to be the richest woman in the world,' Sir Donald said. 'If you married His Highness, the Motavians wouldn't think it strange if your company did all they could to help him.'

Melissa drew a deep breath but managed to control her temper. 'You aren't serious, are you, Sir Donald?'

'Yes,' he said quietly. 'I regret that I am.'

'And I regret that I cannot do as you ask.' Her voice rose. 'I have no intention of marrying the Prince. And he has no wish to marry me.'

'He flew to England prepared to do so. It was only your alternative suggestion that made him change his mind. We hope you can make him revert to his original thinking.'

'No!' Melissa almost stamped her foot in temper. 'How dare you tell me what to do with my life! You aren't asking for my financial help; you want me to marry a man I don't love—to put my whole future at your command.'

'Only a few years of it.'

'Definitely not!'

'Hear me out, Miss Benton, I beg you.' The Foreign Secretary leaned forward, his thin face grave. 'A great deal is at stake. It is not only the freedom of Motavia but of Europe. If you were Prince Louis's wife, anything your company did there would be accepted by its people as a sign of your love for him. But if the money is put up without marriage, the Opposition will say the British Government were the real financiers. They will whip up such anti-British feeling that they would force Prince Louis to accept financial help from the East.'

'He would never do that.'

'How can you be sure?'

'I asked him.'

'You asked him?'

She half smiled, remembering the Prince's surprise at the bluntness of her question. 'Yes. I wanted to know why he hadn't accepted help from the East before. He said it was because of his grandmother. He gave me the impression she was more against it than he was.'

Sir Donald sighed. 'That only confirms our fears.

Were it not for his grandmother's dislike of Krassky and his country, Prince Louis would have turned to them long ago. If Princess Helene dies, he will become a puppet prince, with the strings pulled from Slovenia or Peking! If that happens, it will be a disaster.'

Melissa raised her brows but remained silent, and Sir Donald leaned back in his chair, looking so old and tired that she was moved to apologise.

'Much as I would like to help you, I can't do as you ask.'

'You wouldn't be helping me, Miss Benton, you would be helping your country.'

'Aren't you being melodramatic?'

'If only I were.' Sir Donald put his fingers together and stared at them as if what he wanted to say was written on the tips. 'If you do as I have asked, the Government will refund to your company the entire amount it invests in Motavia.'

'That's a great deal of money,' she said faintly.

'The peace of Europe is at stake.'

'Can't you get Motavia to turn to the West without my help? Where's all that marvellous British diplomacy we're always hearing about?'

'Diplomacy takes time—and that is running out for us.' He sighed. 'I am an old man, Miss Benton. Never in my life have I asked anyone to make a personal sacrifice of such magnitude. If there was any other course open to us....'

Looking at him, Melissa knew he was speaking the truth. Unwilling to be swayed by his pleading, she walked over to the window and peered through the double glazing to the street below. If she did not agree to do as Sir Donald asked she would be no better than a traitor to her country. Ludicrous though the thought was, she realised it was no exaggeration. Yet how could he expect her to marry a man she did not love? What sort of life would she have?

'It need not be for long,' Sir Donald said behind her. 'In three or four years' time—if things go according to plan—Motavia will be too important for anyone to touch it.'

'I hadn't realised uranium and gold were so important.'

'It's a matter of oil,' said Sir Donald. 'We believe there is enough oil in Motavia to give Europe all the energy it needs for the next hundred years!'

Melissa swung round. At last she could see why the freedom of Motavia was so important., The Slovenians would not dare to take it over if there were a British Princess on the throne; particularly one who came with a coffer of gold.

'Prince Louis said nothing to me about oil.'

'He is not certain it's there,' Sir Donald said.

'But you are?'

'Yes. We have our sources.'

'Better than the Prince's?'

'More reliable. He believes in the loyalty of his advisors. We believe in no one's loyalty.'

'What an unpleasant way to live,' she retorted.

'We live in an unpleasant world. That is why we need your help.'

Melissa caught her breath: as she herself was caught. 'You're making it difficult for me to refuse.'

He shrugged and went on looking at her. Melissa watched him, marvelling that he could appear so urbane and gentle. Fifteen minutes ago she would have laughed if anyone had said he could persuade her to marry a man she did not know. After all, she was not an ordinary girl to be coerced or intimidated. She was a powerful woman with powerful people working for her. Yet the very power she wielded had been the weapon Sir Donald had used for his own ends. Because Benton's dealt with Governments on their own level, they were treated like a Government and, when told of the importance of certain facts, could be relied on not to put their personal motivation first. This was why she had been told the true position in Motavia.

'If I do as you ask, it isn't because the Government will reimburse us for what we expend,' she said slowly, 'but because you have appealed to me as a—as a citizen of the world. I will tell Prince Louis at once.'

Sir Donald looked as though a burden had been lifted from his shoulders. 'It is better for His Highness to think you have changed your mind for personal reasons.'

'Why can't I tell him the truth?'

'Because we aren't sure of his political beliefs. It is safer if he thinks you are marrying him because you yourself wish it. And of course he must never know that our Government is behind the scheme.'

'You can't keep it a secret for ever.'

'Once oil revenue has stabilised the Motavian economy, there will be no need to keep it secret.'

'And after that I will be free to leave the Prince?'

'If you wish. I believe Motavia is a lovely country. Many Europeans who go there find that ‑'

'It could never be my home,' she interrupted, and looked at Calvin Clement. 'Please let me tell the Prince the truth?'

'Not for the moment, Melissa. If he were to tell it to Krassky ‑'

Sir Donald spoke again. 'Prince Louis will no doubt wish the marriage to take place as soon as possible. It will be as well to comply with his wishes.'

Her head lifted sharply. 'Do you have any more orders for me?'

'You have already agreed to do the most difficult one,' he said, moving to the door. 'We will not forget it, Miss Benton.'

Only when she was alone with her lawyer did Melissa speak, anger precipitating her round the room.

'You knew!' she accused. 'You knew all along that I would have to marry him. Why didn't you warn me? At least it would have stopped me making a fool of myself.'

'I was not at liberty to tell you. Anyway, I was hoping it wouldn't be necessary.'

'Don't tell me you thought I'd agree to marry him?'

'Being a princess has its compensations.'

'I have all the power I need.'

'There are different kinds of power, Melissa. Try and look on the positive side. You have always wanted to put your welfare ideas into practice. Now you will have the opportunity. Motavia is a backward country; it needs bringing into the twentieth century and you can do it. Its Royal Family still means a great deal to the Motavians, and as their Princess you will be in a unique position.'

Melissa would not have been human had she not been fired by the lawyer's words. For years she had wanted to do something of value with her personal resources, finding the benevolence of the Benton Charitable Foundation too anonymous to suit her temperament.

'From a business point of view, it is excellent for the Company,' Calvin Clement continued. 'If Sir Donald is right about the oil, it will bring us in billions.'

'So much money is obscene.'

'Poverty and oppression are equally obscene.'

'So is power.' Melissa went to the door. 'I should know that. I'm caught up in the middle of it!'

'Melissa!' With a speed she had not seen from him before, he came to stand beside her, his face full of concern. 'I have known you the best part of your life, my dear, and I am extremely fond of you. I would never want you to do anything that would make you unhappy.'

'Do you think marrying a man I don't know will make for happiness?'

'It shouldn't make you unhappy,' he prevaricated, 'and it needn't be for more than a few years. If you could look on it as a temporary measure.'

'I'm not modern enough for that! I might not have had much of a home life from the time my parents died, but I was brought up to believe in the sanctity of marriage.'

She wrenched the door open and ran out. Calvin Clement did not follow her, as she had known he wouldn't. She had given her word to Sir Donald and he knew she would not break it.

Sitting in her car, she decided to go and see Prince Louis at once. There was no point letting him think she had solved his problem. Instructing her chauffeur to take her to the Motavian Embassy, she nervously rehearsed what she was going to say, and tried to guess the reaction of the tall blond man whose wife she would soon become.

A wife. A princess. It was too incredible to be credible. Yet it was true; an unpleasant reality that had to be faced. And the first—and probably most unpleasant part—lay immediately ahead of her.

The car glided to a stop in a square off Belgravia. Several policemen were on duty and the royal standard fluttered over the front door of a corner mansion. Quickly she ran up the steps and rang the bell.

Almost at once the door opened and two armed guards faced her. It gave her a jolt to see they were holding guns, and for a moment she was too overcome to speak. Then as they continued to look at her, she blurted out:

'I wish to see His Highness. Please tell him it's Miss Benton.'

The guards looked at each other and then beckoned her inside. She stepped forward and the door closed behind her. The hall was large and marble-floored, and from several closed doors came the faint clatter of typewriters and the insistent ringing of telephones.

'Please follow,' one of the guards said, and ushered her into a waiting room. It was beautifully furnished with carved wooden tables inlaid with mother-of-pearl, settees in brightly coloured wool and shaggy rugs on an ebony floor.

'Please to wait here,' the guard added, and went out.

Too tense to relax, Melissa walked round the room, pausing only to stare at the full-length portrait of Prince Louis that hung above the mantelpiece. It was a reproduction of an original and had an unpleasant glossy appearance. Yet not even this could detract from the exceptional looks of the man whose brilliant blue eyes seemed to follow her as she walked from the table to the window and then back again. There was no sound to be heard other than a passing motorcar outside in the square, and she was beginning to wonder how much longer she would have to wait when the door opened and Major Alexi Vernov came in.

'Forgive me for keeping you waiting, Miss Benton, but we were not expecting you so soon.'

'I'm sorry. I should have telephoned, but I—I was in a hurry. I wish to see Prince Louis.'

'Of course.' The Major led the way up the stairs to the first floor and a large drawing room that looked out upon a small patio. Here too the furniture was ornate, but vases of flowers and several magazines and books gave it a more lived-in appearance, and she guessed it to be the Ambassador's personal room.

'His Highness will be with you in a moment,' the Major said, and once again Melissa found herself alone and waiting.

This time her wait was short, for as the door into the hall closed, another door behind her opened and Louis, Prince of Motavia, came in. Gone was the informally dressed young man she had seen a couple of hours earlier. This one wore military uniform: an impeccably cut navy jacket with gold braid and medals that gleamed no less brightly than his hair. The high collar accentuated his powerful shoulders and this, in turn, emphasised his narrow hips and lean thighs. Clemmie was right, she decided. This man would have no difficulty finding a girl to marry him. Even when angry he had exuded an astonishing charm. Now, smiling and at ease, his mobile mouth curved to show perfect white teeth, his eyes luminous with pleasure and blue as cornflowers, he was devastating enough to sweep the most prosaic female off her feet.

'Forgive me for keeping you waiting, Miss Benton.'

'I'm the one who should apologise. It looks as if I have come at an awkward time.' She saw his perplexity and inclined her head to his jacket. 'You were going out?'

'No, no.' He smiled again. 'I was holding an investiture. In our last Honours List several of our London staff were decorated, and the Ambassador decided to make use of my stay here.' A strong but narrow hand pointed to a chair and, as Melissa sat down, he did the same. 'I did not realise you would have news for me so soon. That is why you are here, is it not?'

'Yes.' She clasped her handbag tightly. Its gold clasp dug into her palm and she was glad of the pain, for it stopped her from feeling nervous. 'I have—I have changed my mind,' she said without preamble. 'I am willing to accept your offer.'

'My offer?' Prince Louis looked perplexed.

'Of marriage.' Melissa forced herself to look at him and saw by the sudden flaring of his nostrils that he understood what she meant.

His look of perplexity was replaced by one of such fury that for a moment she feared he would rise from his chair and strike her. But within an instant he was in control of himself, his eyes masked by their lids, his features rigid with disdain. 'You mean you have not spoken to your Board?'

'They won't agree,' she lied. 'They aren't willing to put up your share of the finance as well as ours.'

'Then I will raise it somewhere else.'

'You can't,' she said quickly. 'Under the terms of your grandfather's agreement, you have to offer me marriage first. If I accept, my company is obligated to finance the entire project.'

Violently he stood up, his chair rocking with the movement. 'So you have succumbed to the idea of a title,' he said icily. 'After all your fine talk, you are no better than the rest.'

'It's a woman's prerogative to change her mind.'

'A true woman would never marry without love!'

'What about a man?' she retorted, stung by the remark.

'I have a duty to my country.'

'And I have a duty to my company!'

His laugh was harsh. 'Don't try and make me believe they need more millions.' The anger left his face and it was suddenly pleading. 'The agreement my grandfather made—it is ridiculous. Neither of us will be happy with a marriage that means nothing. If your company do not want to take the entire financial risk in the Motavian mines, give me a chance of finding the money I need from another source.'

'We must stick to the agreement,' she said stonily, and turned away from the contempt in his eyes. If only she could tell him the truth. He would still be bitter at having to make a loveless marriage, but at least he would not despise her. But Sir Donald had demanded her silence and she could not break her word to him.

'Once I am your wife,' she said with difficulty, there will be no problem about money. I will—I will personally guarantee that.'

'You are willing to pay dearly for a title.'

Even though she could not see his face, there was no missing the contempt in his voice. She forced herself not to be hurt by it. Duty had forced him to come to England to offer marriage to a girl he did not know, and duty—in her turn—was making her accept his offer.

'Please try to understand that I—that I...' Once again her promise to Sir Donald kept her tongue in check and her voice trailed away. 'What do we do now?' she whispered.

'Make arrangements for our marriage. It must be done as quickly as possible.'

'Why?'

'Royalty rarely have long engagements and my people have already waited long enough for me to take a bride.'

'It's a pity you didn't take one before,' she said tartly, 'then this whole situation would never have arisen.'

Bitterness lay tangibly on his aquiline features, turning down the corners of the finely cut mouth and giving a pinched look to the flaring nostrils. 'Unfortunately the woman I loved wasn't free. Now that she is, you are making it impossible.'

'I'm sorry.' Melissa was dismayed by the bleakness of his countenance and for the first time knew how much their marriage would hurt him. Though she herself was losing her freedom for several years, at least she was not breaking her heart.

'I really am sorry,' she repeated.

'But not sorry enough to change your mind?' The blue eyes darkened as they saw the answer on her face. 'You use words with the same skill as your company uses its money,' he said bleakly.

She forced herself to answer him. 'Our marriage might not last for ever. In a few years I might get bored with being a princess and decide to end the whole thing!'

'I will be praying for that day, Miss Benton.' He turned his back on her and pressed a bell beside the fireplace. 'Major Vernov will escort you to your car.'

Without another word he walked across to the inner door, opened it and then closed it behind him, leaving her alone in the room, as she knew he would frequently leave her in the future.

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