Truth about Leo Read Free Page B

very word choked her.
    Dagmar made a little face and addressed the letter. “I’ve never really seen that as the most heinous profession of all. I mean, most of Frederick’s mistresses are quite well off. His children—the baseborn ones—even have titles, and he’s given them some lovely houses…” One thought led to another. Dagmar considered the idea of becoming a mistress to a wealthy and generous man, but after a few minutes’ thought, gave up the idea. “It’s not that I’m morally opposed to such a thing,” she said aloud.
    â€œOpposed to what?” Julia, who had picked up her needlework while Dagmar had sat in thought, looked up again.
    â€œBecoming a courtesan.”
    â€œDagmar!”
    â€œAlthough I do admit that it would probably be nicer to be married to the man to whom one was intimately involved, what with marriage settlements and such. But I suppose if you were very smart, you could work out all of those business details up front, yes?”
    Julia looked as if she was about to fall over. “Do not tell me…you cannot be thinking…dearest Princess! Reassure me that you are not contemplating such a Fatal Step!”
    â€œI’ve never heard of anyone dying from being a courtesan,” Dagmar said phlegmatically but added, “although Mama always said that the French Pox could kill if you had it bad enough. But the point is moot, so you can start breathing again, Julia. You’re turning quite blue. I have no intention of becoming a courtesan.”
    Julia slumped into the one remaining sofa that sat in the nearly empty house. Dagmar knew all too well just how empty it was, since it was she who had sold all but the most essential of furniture. “I thank the Lord for you coming to your senses.”
    Dagmar picked up a ratty reticule and reached for the rattier-still straw bonnet, plopping it unceremoniously upon her head. “It has nothing to do with sense and everything to do with the fact that there’s not one man in Copenhagen who I could imagine doing intimate things with. I’m going to the palace now. Wish me luck. If Frederick refuses to see me—which I suspect he will—I shall leave off the letter and stop by the kitchen to see what I can bring home for us.”
    â€œWill the crown prince allow you to bring victuals from the palace? He seemed disinclined to have you doing so, even going so far as threatening to have you jailed for sticky bun theft.”
    Instantly, Dagmar’s mouth watered, and her stomach growled. They had been very good sticky buns, well worth both the effort it took to liberate them and the subsequent scolding she received two days past from Frederick. “There’s more than one way to raid a kitchen,” she said with an enigmatic smile.
    â€œShall I accompany you?” Julia immediately rose to her feet. “I feel that I should go with you. What your mother would say if she knew I let you go out unescorted…”
    â€œI’ll be fine. You stay here and…and…” Dagmar searched her mind for something to keep Julia occupied. Left alone, she’d just fret and worry herself—and ultimately Dagmar. It was far kinder to give her a task to keep her mind busy. “Ah! I know. You shall stay here and watch over the drunkard to make sure he doesn’t harm the garden.”
    Julia blinked. “But you just said that it wasn’t likely he would do any damage.”
    â€œI have absolutely no memory of saying that,” Dagmar lied. “Wrap up well and go watch the man for signs of movement. If he regains his senses, lock yourself in the house.”
    Catching up a heavy shawl, Dagmar left the dark confines of the run-down mansion that sat on the unfashionable side of town, content to stride along the pitted cobblestones enjoying the weak sunshine and sights of a busy port town.
    Copenhagen had been in uproar the last few days