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Gwendolyn, and he had already eliminated her as a suspect. Had she known, she would have immediately understood why he had to consult with the queen about the alliance. But she hadn’t betrayed so much as a hint of such knowledge. All he remembered seeing in her intriguing blue eyes was the unexpected and beguiling plea with which she’d greeted him, and the quick, damnably annoying way that sapphire blue had frosted over before she’d come to her queen’s defense.
    With a swift frown, he shook off the thoughts. Hedidn’t need to be thinking about the ice maiden—especially while three of the most intelligent, wealthiest and most powerful men in the country were waiting for him to continue.
    “The entire kingdom is waking up to these headlines,” he pointed out, determined to stave off disaster. “Press from all over the world is going to descend like locusts in less than an hour…if the pressroom phone isn’t ringing already.” The thought had him starting to pace. “The good news is that the reporter apparently hadn’t been told how long the king has been ill. As far as anyone will know from that article, King Morgan took ill last evening rather than weeks ago.
    “However,” he continued, pacing behind the men, “now that the public does know the king’s condition, it is imperative that Prince Broderick cease the masquerade as the real king and make a statement to the people that he will be taking his brother’s place in a ceremonial capacity. With those headlines,” he muttered, dismissing the offending wording with the wave of his hand, “we also need to make it very clear to the public and the world that Prince Broderick is a figurehead only. In the absence of an appointed heir, Penwyckian tradition passes power to the queen.”
    Selwyn was inevitably the voice of reason. “I for one am relieved to have this out in the open. Prince Broderick has proven far more amenable than I would have expected, but I don’t know how much longer we could have kept up the charade.”
    Pierce nodded. “I never liked this. I’ve always felt he was too much of a wild card.”
    “We all share that feeling,” Harrison assured them both, “but we had no choice but to play the card we were handed. Our concern now is the effect this newswill have on pending negotiations. Nothing must happen to jeopardize either the alliance with Majorco or the alliance with the U.S.”
    “No question,” muttered Logan.
    Sir Selwyn smoothed his tie. “Absolutely.”
    “Pierce.” Harrison paced the length of the table again, his mind totally focused on a new battle plan. “I think it would be most expeditious if you met with Broderick to advise him of his change in status while Selwyn heads off the press. Are you all right with that?”
    A sharp nod confirmed that he was.
    “Selwyn,” he said to the Royal Secretary, “we need to arrange for the king’s press secretary and staff to meet with Prince Broderick.”
    “Consider it done. Do we want cameras? All the trappings?”
    The king’s twin would love that.
    “Whatever it takes to make it look as if everything is totally under control. As to official statements,” Harrison continued, pacing back the other way, “Prince Broderick needs to assure the kingdom that official business will be conducted as usual. That message needs to be strong enough to assure the citizens of Penwyck that their government is and will remain stable but nonspecific enough to allow us time to track down Prince Owen before his abductors realize the alliance will be signed as planned.” He stopped at the head of the table and turned to face them. “Agreed?”
    “Agreed,” they replied in unison.
    “Good. In the meantime, I will ask the appropriate ministers to meet with the ambassadors of the United States and Majorco, and assure them that nothing will stand in the way of their alliances.”
    “Is that where you’re headed now?” Logan asked.
    “No.” A muscle in Harrison’s jaw jerked.