Truth about Leo Read Free

‘misanthrope’?”
    â€œI would feel better if you did assess the situation for yourself.”
    â€œWhy?” Dagmar looked up from where she had been adding a word or two to the letter.
    More vague hand gestures followed. “Well…he might not meet with your satisfaction.”
    Dagmar tried very hard not to laugh. “I assure you most sincerely that I will have no undue expectations of this poor soul.”
    â€œAnd then there’s the fact that he’s just lying out in the garden. He might hurt himself in his stupor. Or someone might trip over him. Or wolves might devour him while he is without his senses. I would feel much better if you were to view the situation.”
    Dagmar set down the quill. “You’re not going to let me finish until I do, are you?”
    â€œI would never presume—”
    Dagmar stood, knowing the sooner she went out and viewed the man, the sooner she could return to pleading with her cousin. “Very well, let us view this new addition to the garden.”
    â€œPerhaps the crown prince might send a guard or two to relieve us of his presence,” Julia said, trotting beside Dagmar as the latter strode out to the garden. Back behind the roses, at the very edge of the cultivated land, a low hedge marked the boundary of the property. A small shack sat in the corner, ostensibly used for gardening implements, but Dagmar knew well that Julia kept a small bottle of brandy inside it. She’d never let on that she knew her companion used the excuse of a nightly stroll around the garden to have a wee nip since Julia would likely die of mortification should her secret be discovered.
    The man lay on his back near the shed, a long, woolen driving coat covering most of his body. He was hatless, his dark hair filthy with dirt, leaves, and a small snail, but he didn’t appear to be in harm’s way. Dagmar leaned over him and caught a whiff of brandy.
    â€œI doubt if we have anything to worry about,” she said a moment later, noting that the man had no weapons on him. “I don’t believe he’s in any condition to do harm to the garden or anything else to be honest. He’ll likely be gone by nightfall.”
    Dagmar turned and hurried back toward the house. The morning air still held a chill, and although the house wasn’t much warmer, at least she could wrap a blanket around herself while she wrote.
    â€œDo you not think we might bring him indoors?”
    â€œWhy would we want to do that?”
    â€œIf he does not go away by nightfall, he might catch cold.”
    Dagmar settled herself at the rough table that served as a desk and dismissed the man from her mind. “He’s fine where he is. Now, I shall finish this letter and then take it to Frederick.”
    Julia fussed around the room for a few minutes. “My dear princess, do you not think that we should be packing rather than writing?”
    â€œNo, I do not think that in the least.” The quill’s scratching on the paper was oddly soothing as Dagmar gave vent to her fears and frustrations of the last thirteen months, since that terrible day when Dearest Papa had succumbed to scarlet fever. “Does ‘excrescence’ have one r or two? Never mind, I’ll give it two. It looks better that way.”
    â€œMight I be so bold as to inquire to whom you are writing?” Julia asked, rising to peek over Dagmar’s shoulder. She gasped when she read the name at the top. “Dagmar! My very dear princess! You cannot speak to your cousin in such a…bold…manner. He is the prince regent, after all.”
    â€œHe’s also a heartless rotter who thinks nothing of throwing you and me out of our home without so much as a warning.”
    Julia hesitated, then pointed out softly, “I believe that he has spoken of you going to live with your other relatives since shortly after your father’s untimely death over a year