Queen Isabelle sat back in her chair after the phone call ended. She entered a state of deep introspection. For the first time since she met Karl-Franz, she was beginning to suspect she had overestimated how well she knew him.
Her personal disdain towards Germans aside. She could not deny that the man was deeply in love with a woman other than her daughter. A woman her daughter had brought to court out of a failed gesture of humiliation.
And she had poured gasoline on that fire by making veiled threats in a poor attempt to intimidate Karl-Franz into forgetting about Claire and moving on.
The effects had been disastrous for her and her house. Or at least had the potential to move in that direction. No matter how much she may dislike the upcoming marriage between her daughter, Princess Isabelle, and Prince Karl-Franz von Zehntner, Queen Isabelle had to admit it was necessary.
She was not so foolish as to misunderstand France's position, and the House of Orleans with it.
