a/n: I've decided I like "Romero" as Joseph's last name. Thank you to whichever author out there originated that!

"Better. It's coming along," Clarisse complimented Mia. "Now you may go home."

"Thank you!" the girl exclaimed, running from the room. "See you tomorrow!"

"Thank you, Joseph." The Queen stood up, closed the file folder she had been perusing, and removed her reading glasses, relieved that Mia's lesson was over for the day. She was a dear girl, but Clarisse had a great deal to do and she was sure Joseph must be busy as well. She was lucky that he had acceded to her request that he help her with Mia's dancing; it was certainly not in his job description.

Joseph approached her from behind and leaned over her shoulder to turn the music back on. Clarisse felt his breath on the back of her neck and was a little unnerved by his closeness, but after a few seconds she turned her head so she could see him.

"You've been wearing black… too long," he said in an undertone and she smiled. He was a man who noticed everything.

She almost asked him why he had turned on the music, but his intention became clear when he took her hand and led her smoothly away from the table. The melody was sedate, yet seductive, and before long Clarisse's cares had all fallen away as she and Joseph moved together in perfect synchronization. They had danced together before, so she knew how graceful he was, but there was something different about this dance they were performing to an empty room in the middle of a Tuesday afternoon. Her steps were agile and steady, but inside Clarisse trembled as Joseph led her through the pattern with one hand holding hers and the other resting at her waist. Had she always been so aware of his every movement when they danced? Had she always felt giddy in his arms? They each spun around and moved into the next part of the dance, now even closer than before. She felt warmth radiating from him as they moved together to the music. She returned his intense gaze and found she couldn't look away. She didn't know what he was thinking, but she couldn't make out her own feelings, either. She moved with practiced elegance, but internally she was unusually flustered.

Clarisse was more than disappointed when the song ended, but Joseph didn't let her go immediately and they stood clasped together in silence. After several seconds, by tacit agreement, they slowly separated, though Joseph retained his hold on one of her hands.

"Clarisse," he whispered and she drew a quick breath. He had called her that before, but never while he stared at her as though he wanted to… well, she wasn't sure what he wanted, but she had an inkling.

"Joseph," she replied, not moving away, mesmerized by his marvelous eyes. His glance flicked down to her lips and then she knew what he was thinking. He was going to kiss her, and she wasn't going to stop him. He leaned in ever so slowly and she closed her eyes.

The sound of heels on tile was a rude awakening from this reverie and they parted hurriedly. Charlotte bustled into the room. She looked from Clarisse to Joseph and winced inwardly. She had waited in the hallway until the music ended, thinking to allow them some privacy while they danced, but it was plain to see that she had still interrupted something, in spite of her good intentions.

"Your Majesty, the Spanish ambassador is here for your four-thirty meeting," she informed Clarisse.

The Queen had regained her equanimity and she answered calmly that she would be along in a few minutes. Charlotte left the room and she turned to Joseph. He was still looking at her as though she were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Clarisse felt a combination of relief and regret. She had almost done something foolish and it was a relief that her assistant had prevented it. She was the Queen and she couldn't deal with the complication of her life that a single kiss could cause. But, oh, how she had wanted to do something foolish for once.

She gave Joseph a rueful smile and left him standing there. He watched her go. He would have kissed her if Charlotte had come looking for her one minute later than she did. What terrible timing. He wondered if Clarisse would bring it up or if she would pretend nothing had happened. He really wasn't sure what she was thinking, though the certainty that she had wanted to kiss him back was some consolation. Perhaps she was within his reach, after all.

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Clarisse escaped the consulate and into the solitude of the nearly completed garden. So far it appeared that Charlotte had done an excellent job carrying out the Queen's order for a garden in time for the Independence Day ball. Clarisse had spent all day in meetings and was looking for some peace and quiet. It was getting dark, so all the gardeners had gone. Joseph was trailing her, of course, but she didn't mind his company. A chat with him when she was troubled often improved her mood. He knew her well and had a way of saying just what she needed to hear. Clarisse wended her way through the shrubberies and flowers by herself, but Joseph caught up with her in a quiet nook where they were hidden from view by two large trees.

"Hello, Joseph," she greeted him.

He nodded. "Your Majesty."

She smiled. "So it's Your Majesty today?"

He chuckled. "I can make it Clarisse, if you like."

"Yes, please. I've been the Queen all day. I'd like to be just Clarisse for now."

"Very well," he replied. "But I would argue that there is no such thing as just Clarisse."

"Oh?" She eyed him curiously.

"The Queen is all the things a queen should be, but Clarisse is everything a woman should be."

She blushed, but was unconvinced. "I'm not so sure."

"Well, if that's how you feel, I doubt I can convince you otherwise, but I hope it consoles you that I think so."

She looked him in the eye. "It does, Joseph. Thank you."

Joseph returned her gaze, his expression very serious. He stepped a little closer to her. "It's a lovely evening."

Clarisse couldn't look away from him. "Yes, lovely."

He advanced a little further in her direction; their toes were almost touching. She knew what was coming and retreated a few steps.

"What's wrong, my dear?" he asked, stepping toward her again.

"Please don't call me that," she requested gently. "Someone could hear you."

Joseph retreated now. "I'm sorry if I've caused you distress."

She smiled slightly. "You never could."

Joseph frowned. "I don't understand you, Clarisse."

"You don't have to."

"But don't you feel something?" he wanted to know. "Don't you think there's something special here?"

"What use would it be for me to answer those questions?" she returned. "As long as I'm Queen it doesn't matter what I feel."

"It matters to me."

Clarisse couldn't speak right away; his words had stolen her breath. He had never talked to her so frankly on such a subject and his comments were affecting her more than she would have expected. She couldn't help feeling gloomy. The affection of a man like Joseph could not be dismissed lightly, but she could not accept it, either. Was there a third option, a middle ground? A way forward that would not be hurtful to one or both of them?

After some hesitation, she reached for his hand and held it for a while. Then she squeezed and released it, gave him a melancholy smile, and turned and walked back toward the consulate. Joseph followed her, but this time he kept his distance. For once, she was glad. She didn't think it would make her feel better to ruminate over the sorrows of her life, but she was suddenly exhausted beyond words and keen to return to her room where she could be alone.

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Their conversation over the next few days was subdued, but eventually Clarisse and Joseph somehow fell back into their old habits. They were friends again, and Clarisse could almost imagine that the exchange in the garden had not happened. However, she occasionally caught Joseph looking at her with an unfathomable expression on his face and she was sorry that she was the likely cause of his occasional wistfulness. He supported her as he always had, and she confided her worries about Mia, but there was no way to believe or even pretend that things were the same as they had been before.

The day of the Independence Day ball arrived. Clarisse sat at her vanity table as Susannah dressed her hair, but she was deep in thought. Tonight Mia would announce that she would not take on the life of a Princess of Genovia, but Clarisse had had her own first tiara brought to San Francisco for her, in spite of everything, just in case. Still she worried. She couldn't put her finger on it, but something hadn't seemed right the last time she saw her granddaughter. She hoped that things would turn out differently, that Mia would change her mind and accept the Genovian throne, but after all that had happened it seemed unlikely.

Once she was dressed and coiffured, Clarisse made her appearance. Mia had not arrived yet, but there was still time, and the Queen spoke to some of the guests. After a while, however, the passage of time and a quiet conference with Charlotte told her what was wrong. "She's going to run," Joseph had said to Charlotte as he left the ballroom. Clarisse's heart sank when she heard this. She had faith in Joseph to accomplish what most people could not, but if Mia had really run away, this particular miracle might be beyond even his capabilities.

The media's restlessness reached a fever pitch and Clarisse could stall no longer. Her heart was heavy as she made her way to the dais to speak to the crowd gathered in the consulate. She was about to announce that Princess Amelia would not be accepting the crown of Genovia when a glance to her right stopped her midsentence. It was Mia, soaking wet, but smiling. Joseph stood in the background, raindrops sparkling on his overcoat. Clarisse breathed a sigh of relief and beckoned for Mia to come out and speak to the crowd.

The Princess's speech was not polished or eloquent, but it was sincere and Clarisse was proud of her. After she spoke and received her grandmother's tiara, she was whisked away by Charlotte to get dry and dressed for the ball. When Mia was ready, she entered the ballroom with her grandmother. Sebastian Motaz led the Queen into the first dance as Mia found a partner from the crowd. Clarisse liked the Prime Minister and he danced well, so this was no trial, but he was soon supplanted by the only partner she preferred. Joseph, his tuxedo immaculate in spite of his earlier mad dash into a very wet San Francisco, cut in on Motaz, who gave way with good grace and made his way off of the floor. Clarisse was shocked at Joseph's boldness, but she kept her composure.

Joseph gestured to Mia and Michael, who were leaving the floor. "He had the same idea I did, but now the garden is ocupado."

They both chuckled and Clarisse studied his face carefully. She saw none of the melancholy that had plagued him recently. He seemed happy, truly happy, and his mood was infectious. "You seem very pleased, Joseph."

"Aren't you pleased?" he asked. "Mia did very well."

"She did," she agreed with an impish grin. "If you ask the Queen, the Princess's performance could have used a little more finesse, but Clarisse will tell you that her granddaughter was wonderful."

Joseph's eyes twinkled. "Well, Clarisse, I don't think the Queen has anything to worry about. Before long, Mia will be almost as elegant as her grandmother."

"Almost?"

"Almost." He nodded. "After all, she's only fifteen and it's quite a lofty goal."

Clarisse smiled. An evening that had started out inauspiciously was now turning out to be the best evening she had enjoyed in a long time. She was still coming out of the fog of mourning and had naturally been concerned about Mia's progress, but for the first time since Philippe's death she felt some relief from the burdens she carried.

Later, she and Joseph walked together out of the ballroom. After he had shooed his men from the area, he took her hand. She turned to him and they walked a little closer together as he pulled her gloved fingers up to kiss. Clarisse's heart was full. Meeting Mia had brought something wonderful into her life and Joseph, looking strikingly handsome, smiled at her in a way that made her heart stutter. It seemed he had forgiven her and accepted her answer. She must be sure not to break his heart, if that were still possible, but for tonight she enjoyed being sought out by the man of her choice. She could admit that much at least - that she preferred his company to that of every other man she knew - but beyond that she refused to engage in profitless speculation. This night was special. She would cherish it for a long time.

To be continued…

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