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“Oh, but indeed, Mr Entner has fallen on some very hard times,” insisted Fenella. “And Oswald himself told me that I might trust Eden Montmayne’s judgement of art.”

“Oswald?” interrupted Hester and arched an eyebrow at her. “Why, I do believe that is the first time I have heard you refer to your husband in such informal terms, Fenella.”

Fen felt herself turning bright red. “Is it?” she faltered.

Hester Schaeffer laughed. “I will not tease you,” she promised. “But you must both come to dine with Andrew and myself one evening this week.”

“Of course,” said Fen pressing her friend’s arm. “Are you going to-” her mind went blank. “Oh dear, some banquet this evening? The Dowager something or other-?”

“The Dowager Duchess of Lessing,” Hester supplied. “We’ve had an invite but Andrew is so stuffy, poor dear, and I really can’t put him through more than one social event per week. He finds it very wearing. Especially after one of the council meetings. They can be quite involved.”

Fen pressed her lips together remembering Oswald’s displeasure at her inquisitiveness that morning. Clearly Lord Schaeffer told his wife more than her own husband did.

“But there, you are not interested in such dry stuff,” said Hester when she made no reply. “And I can’t say I blame you. At your age I had no interest either.”

Fen nodded, reluctant to explain that she had been warned off having any such interest.

“And here we are, your rooms,” exclaimed the older woman. “Do you think you would be able to find your way back down again, my dear? This place is such a rabbit warren.”

“I think so,” said Fen hesitantly. “Although I might take a wrong turn or two as so many of the corridors look the same.”

“You’re doing very well,” her friend assured her. “You should get Lord Vawdrey to give you a full tour of the palace at some point.”

“Yes, I have really only seen parts of it,” Fen admitted. “And I don’t really have a clear idea in my head how it is laid out at all.”

“I can certainly show you some more walking routes around the parks and walkways,” Hester offered. “How about tomorrow morn?”

“Bors and I would like that very much,” replied Fen warmly.

“I’ll take my leave of you then, my dear.” Hester kissed her cheek and left Fen outside her door. “Have a nice time this evening and I will call for you on the morrow,” she called as she disappeared around a corner.

“Goodbye.” Fen paused a moment before entering into the Vawdrey apartment. It occurred to her that she would miss Hester Schaeffer when she went to Vawdrey Keep, but perhaps they could keep up a written correspondence? Masculine voices brought her out of her musings and she looked up to see Roland sat playing cards at the table, with two other young men dressed partly in chainmail. They both sprang to their feet though Roland remained lolling in his chair.

“Oh! Roland, your pardon I did not mean to interrupt-” she began, but her brother-in-law forestalled her.

“This is Bevan and Attley,” he said, nodding to his friends.

“Lady Vawdrey,” said the first executing a creditable bow. “Your servant. Sir Edward Bevan.”

“Sir James Attley,” added the other hastily.

Fenella curtsied. “I am happy to meet you both,” she said brightly. They did not seem hostile at any rate though they both goggled at her as though she were some sort of rare bird before dropping back into their seats. Both were well-built young men and from their apparel she guessed they had been practicing with arms and were part of the competitive tournament faction.

“See you got your pearls back at any rate, eh?” joked Sir Edward feebly. He pointed at his own neck to illustrate his point.

Fenella blushed and darted a look at Roland who rolled his eyes. “Oh – er, yes,” she agreed.

“Did you show them to Lady Thane?” asked Sir Edward with a chortle.

His friend Sir James elbowed him in the ribs.

“Ignore Bev,” Roland advised not looking up from his cards. “We all do.”

“You know, it would serve Thane right if Lord Vawdrey were to challenge him to a duel,” carried on Sir Edward cheerfully.

Roland snorted. “Oswald would never challenge the likes of Thane in combat.”

“Why not?” asked his friend. “Vawdrey was in the King’s army, wasn’t he? Could handle himself in a fight.”