Chapter 825: Palace Intrigue
Meeting Veronique’s suggestive gaze, Camelia’s cheeks instantly flushed crimson. She lowered her head and whispered, "What... what are you talking about?"
Veronique took her arm and said softly, "My dear, I know you love His Highness deeply. I hate to see you suffering because of that love."
"No, actually, I..."
"Isn't that the case?"
"I, I..."
"It seems I've misunderstood." Veronique made a move to leave. "I'm truly sorry. I only wanted to help you. Please, forget what I just said..."
Camelia bit her lip and suddenly pulled her back, whispering, "Do you... do you really have a way?"
Veronique winked at her. "A method my aunt used when she was young. It should work."
Camelia gripped her hand even tighter. "That... that would be wonderful. I mean, thank you so much. You helped me back on the Pyroscaphe, and now you’re going to so much trouble again."
"Yes!" Camelia nodded vigorously. "You are my best friend too!" Then, full of hope, she asked, "What is this method you mentioned?"
"I heard that the Crown Prince is accustomed to..."
As Veronique explained her plan, Camelia’s beautiful eyes widened, her face growing even redder. "You’re so clever, this will definitely..."
She lowered her head shyly, suddenly remembering the methods Madame Celeste had taught her. Compared to Veronique’s plan, those were like a peasant's shack next to the Palace of Versailles. Back then, she had even paid Madame Celeste several thousand francs...
Then, she asked tentatively, "But how do you know the door lock will fail 'at exactly the right moment'?"
Veronique smiled. "Don't worry, my little darling. I can find a locksmith. You just need to keep him at the door for two minutes, and the lock will become whatever you want it to be. Of course, I might need some time to prepare."
"Thank you so much, dear Veronique."
A moment later, Veronique stepped out of the room, closing the door behind her. Her expression instantly turned sinister, and she hissed a low, hysterical mutter to herself: "I am the future mistress of Versailles. You fools... not one of you will stand in my way to the throne!"
She hurried upstairs to her room and took out a set of movable type she always kept with her. She pressed a row of words onto a piece of paper: "To the honorable Miss Perna Lamarck..."
Yes, through her connections in aristocratic circles, she had learned that Perna would soon arrive in Brussels to preside over the induction ceremony for the first batch of interns from the Royal Military Medical University.
She intended to seize this opportunity to give the woman a massive "surprise."
A triumphant, cold sneer curled on Veronique’s lips. She could already see the scene: Perna, the "chief" mistress, and Camelia screaming insults and tearing at each other's hair.
She knew very well that men of high status hated nothing more than the women around them creating constant unrest.
When that happened, she would have the chance to provide a "peaceful harbor" for the Crown Prince, capturing his heart and rising to power in one fell swoop.
She was confident. With her beauty and her skill at handling men, she could easily defeat the current "chief" once the woman had made a mess of things.
After that, she would use the time before the Crown Prince’s official engagement to consolidate her position. Even when a future Crown Princess eventually arrived at Versailles, she would still have to show Veronique some respect!
Early the next morning, Veronique handed the letter to a trusted servant, instructing him to deliver it to her cousin serving in the Rethel Legion. She emphasized repeatedly, "It’s a six or seven-hour drive from the front lines to here. Make sure your cousin calculates the timing perfectly. Remember, it must be after 10:30 PM, but not too late..."
Two more days passed.
Under the lamplight, Joseph finished reading the summary reports on France’s finances and industry for the first half of the year sent from Paris. Only when he looked up did he notice that the sky outside was already pitch black.
He stood up, rubbing his aching arms, and asked Eman at the door, "What time is it?"
"Ten minutes to ten-thirty, Your Highness," Eman replied, adding a reminder. "You have the 'first patrol ceremony' for the Brussels Police Bureau tomorrow morning."
Brussels had established a new police force modeled after France's. After a period of training, the first group of officers would take over city security tomorrow, and a ceremony had been organized to mark the occasion.
Joseph nodded. "Very well, let’s get some rest then."
Just as he spoke, a tall, curvaceous figure approached and curtsied. "Your Highness, the bath is ready."
Joseph then remembered it was Friday, his "big wash day."
In this Catholic country, he could only sneak a bath once a week.
He suddenly noticed the maid before him was Veronique. Confused, he asked, "You? Where is Miss Camelia?"
Eman interjected from the side, "Your Highness, she was feeling a bit unwell and asked for the evening off."
"Is she ill?"
Veronique quickly said, "She’s fine, Your Highness. She said she was just a little tired from the day's work.
"Oh, shall we go to the bath now?"
"Yes, the bath."
Joseph followed Veronique to the south side of the second floor. She gestured toward the end of the hallway. "Your Highness, your bath is in Room 202.
"Would you like things as usual, or do you need someone to attend to you..."
Joseph waved her off. "No need, I can manage myself."
Having been the Crown Prince for several years, he had accepted others helping him dress and put on shoes, but he still wasn't used to maids bathing him.
The hallway was hazy with mist, likely from the water being heated for the baths.
Joseph glanced up at the plate on the door, vaguely seeing the number "202." He turned the handle and pushed the door open.
After he entered, Veronique immediately followed with light footsteps. The Crown Prince’s personal guards at either end of the corridor only spared her a glance. Seeing it was the Crown Prince’s personal maid, they didn't pay her much mind.
Veronique pretended to wipe water spots off the floor. Once she confirmed the guards' backs were turned, she swiftly plucked the "202" plate and swapped it with the one for Room 203.
Inside Room 202—which was actually Room 203—Joseph looked at the flickering pale red candlelight and caught a whiff of a heavy fragrance. He shook his head inwardly, assuming Veronique wasn't familiar with his bathing habits and had taken it upon herself to arrange this.
He shed his clothes, donned a bathrobe, and walked toward the large bathtub in the inner room.
Just as he came within six paces of the tub, the water erupted with a loud splash, and a pair of snowy-white, tender curves suddenly bounced into view as a figure rose from the depths.
Comments