Well, that was not precisely true. He glanced at Clementine. She must have felt his regard, for she swung her gaze around to meet his and smiled—unreservedly. He had to duck his head to hide an answering grin and settled back into his happy repose, letting the voices of his beloved friends weave a cozy cocoon around him. The only barb in his satisfaction was that sense of an ever-ticking clock. Of the end of their holiday growing near. It was day twelve.
“What do you think, Archie?” Simon asked.
Archie looked up. He had no idea what the question had been. “I beg your pardon. I was woolgathering.”
“We were discussing the coronation,” Simon said.
“Particularly the queen’s exclusion from it,” Olive said archly. “Did you know they met her with armed guards?”
“That seems extreme,” said Archie, who hadn’t known that.
“She was never in any danger,” Simon said.
“Still,” Archie said.
“Archie’s a very pacifistic sort,” Effie said.
“Except when it comes to killing animals,” Clementine said tartly, and everyone laughed, including Archie, though to be honest, his mirth was somewhat spurious. He didn’t like Clementine thinking of him as akiller.
“Or defending people he loves,” Effie added. “I can’t tell you how many times he made a boy named Nigel Nettlefell pay for being cruel to me when we were in school.”
“Oh, yes,” Simon agreed. “He did that quite a few times. Archie can be quite combative in defense of his loved ones.”
“Come now,” Archie said, wanting to get back to listening to them talk idly about things other than their overinflated impressions of his character.
He got his wish, but not for long. It wasn’t twenty minutes before Clementine suddenly announced that she was going to bed early. “The turtle races are tomorrow, and I need to get a good night’s sleep.”
“Yes, but Clemmie, all you need do is place Hermes at the starting line and cross your fingers,” Olive said.
“Nevertheless, I find myself quite tired.” Clementine yawned in a way Archie recognized as false. He hoped the others were not paying such close attention.
Clementine bobbed a curtsy to the assembled, a formality that was patently out of character, and took her leave. He could only consider himself fortunate that she did not shoot him a look as she departed.
16
The Lady’s (Continued) Delight
When Archie opened his door to Clementine’s knock around ten o’clock—he, too, had begged off early, though not as early as she had; someone had to be responsible for keeping up appearances—she began talking the moment she entered the room.
“I may not have a great deal of practical experience, but as we have discussed, I have always been a great observer of nature.”
“And a good evening to you, too.” Her hair was down, and she wore the same yellow shawl he’d seen on her several times. She looked exceedingly . . . relaxed. She wasn’t wearing her shift, though, so that was something.
“I know for a fact that what we are doing is meant to involve the both of us.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Perhaps I should speak plainly.”
“Please do.”
“I want you to lie with me.”
“I did.”
“You did not.”
He sighed fondly. “Must you be so literal-minded?”
