Oliver
The apartment within a long wing of the third floor of the Molave palace made my condo in Hollywood look like a tenement house. For the last three weeks-plus, I had been living the life of a crown prince. There was a small entourage who were aware of my presence. Those people bowed and curtsied. They addressed me by titles such as your highness, duke, or prince. They were omnipresent in my preparation by immersion.
Within the palace, I was hidden and treated like a king, or a king to be.
My assistants and servants taught me how to stand, what to say, and how to respond.
In the last three and a half weeks, I'd read volumes on the Duke of Monovia. I'd already had one outing where I didn't speak but was driven to a location where I waved to the crowd as I entered the building. A
