Vasily felt like he’d missed something important, but his attention was taken up by Mother’s comment. “What princes have you had in your stables?”
Mother grinned, and it suited him much better than the scowl he’d been wearing a minute ago. “Well, do you mean the one who’s a prince now because he married the king, or the other one?”
“There wasanother one?”
Mother nodded, taking the time to finish his mouthful of pottage before he spoke. “Aye. Prince Davin worked as a stable boy. Well,” he said, eyes sparkling with amusement, “Isayworked. But he was fair useless for a good long while. Spent all his time skiving off to spoon the maids.”
Vasily’s brow furrowed. He’d heard odds and ends about King Leopold’s heir from the wrong side of the sheets, but he hadn’t known he’d worked for Mother. “Why, though?”
Mother raised his eyebrows. “Why was he spooning the maids? Because he’s his father’s son, lad.”
“No, why was he a stable hand?”
“Oh! That was because, according to his mother, he was turning into an entitled little tit, so she sent him to be taken in hand. The chancellor decided the stables was as good a place as any for him to learn the value of a solid day’s work.” Mother grinned widely. “He got there in the end, though. Turns out, finding out he was heir to the throne was the kick up the arse he needed, and he wasn’t useless after all.”
“You’d think it would go the other way, though,” Ollie said from where he was sitting on Vasily’s other side. “If I found out I was a prince, you wouldn’t catch me shovelling shit. I’d be spending my days reclining on a couch and having someone bring me trays of cakes.”
“I don’t think that’s how being a prince works,” Vasily said, fighting the urge to tell Ollie about the hours of lessons in etiquette and languages and diplomacy he’d sat through.
“Aye,” Mother chimed in. “You wouldn’t catch me getting involved with royalty.”
Vasily ducked his head and concentrated on his food, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in his gut. Even if he hadn’t been a prince, Mother wouldn’t be interested in him.
And Vasily wasn’t interested in Mother that way either. He was interested inJeremy.
Wasn’t he?
He chewed and swallowed mindlessly, the conversation flowing around him, and as he ate, it dawned on him that he didn’t actually care all that much about Jeremy. He looked very fine in his uniform, to be sure, and he had a handsome enough countenance and was pleasant to talk to, but there was nothing that made him special and nothing that inclined Vasily to court him—except for the fact that he’d indicated he found Vasily appealing.
Mother, though? He wasintriguing.
Vasily was drawn from his thoughts by Mother standing and taking his bowl. His dinner was gone, but he didn’t remember eating it. “I’ll bring you back some pudding, lad,” Mother said, and then he was gone, walking over to the serving table before Vasily could blink.
He came back with two servings of custard, and Vasily got a swooping sensation in his stomach. Mother was taking care of him—and he wasn’t doing it because Vasily was a prince but because he wanted to.
Because helikedVasily.
Mother sat across from him and slid the bowl his way, and Vasily took it with a smile of thanks and started eating. The custard was delicious and was gone far too soon. Vasily licked his lips to catch the last traces of sweetness there, and when he glanced up, it was to find Mother staring at him, his own custard untouched and his gaze fixed on Vasily’s mouth for some reason. He licked his lips again reflexively, and Mother’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed.
Vasily nodded at his full plate. “Not hungry?”
Mother cleared his throat. “Aye,” he said gruffly, ducking his head as he ate, the tops of his ears pink.
Vasily glanced around to find that the others at the table had gone, leaving them alone. It was the perfect opportunity to practice his wooing skills. His fingertips drummed against the wooden surface of the table as he tried to think of something to say. It was all very well Mother promising to make a smooth talker of him, but he wasn’t there yet. Still, he wasn’t going to get any better if he didn’t try, was he?
“I, um. The custard was delicious.”
Mother glanced up.
Vasily, heart hammering against his ribs for reasons he couldn’t quite define, leaned forward so their heads were barely an inch apart and, in what he hoped was a sultry manner, said, “Of course, the custard isn’t the only delicious thing around here.”
Mother’s brow creased. “Did you want some of the cake? I can fetch you a slice if you want.”
“No, Mother.” Vasily huffed in frustration. Why was this so difficult? He let his head drop to the table with a thunk and mumbled, “I meantyou.”
Mother sputtered around his spoon. “Me?”
Vasily flapped a hand, his head still resting on the table. “Never mind. I’ll never be good at this.”
