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“Your...” He looked momentarily confused. “No. I’ve no’ had the pleasure of her acquaintance. What I want to tell you is that my father has had some...difficulties.”
Difficulties. She didn’t know what that meant, but she didn’t like the sound of it. She waited for him to continue.
“Of his own making.”
She nodded.
“Financial.”
She had no call to feel so disappointed in this revelation, but strangely, she did. Financial difficulties were often the cause behind people doing terrible things.
“It was he who arranged this with Robuchard,” he said, making a gesture to the two of them. “Some time ago, he found himself in significant debt and has entered into some business dealings in Wesloria, at the behest of your prime minister. But I was coerced into this role by him—no’ as a favor to Robuchard.”
“I knew it!” she cried. “Ha.You are a spy, and for once,Iwas right.” But just as quickly as she’d declared triumph, she sobered. He hadn’t been entirely truthful with her, after all.
“Aye, you were right.”
What else had he been less than truthful about? Justine swallowed hard. “Does that mean that your companionship these last few—”
“God, no,” he said quickly and reached for her hand. “No, Justine.No.I’ve cherished every moment, more than I can say. More than I can fathom, really.”
She desperately wanted to believe him because the same was true for her. “Why didn’t you tell me the truth in the beginning? I asked you.”
“I didna expect to be long at the task. And...shame, I suppose. Will you allow me to explain?”
She nodded. He let go of her hand and settled in to tell her about his father’s money troubles and bad spending decisions. How the choices he’d made to add to the palace had cost them dearly, and could mean an impoverished Hamilton duchy down the road. He told her about the questionable business ventures his father had entered into over the years for no other reason than he was friendly with the person proposing it. He told her what the losses had meant for the Hamilton estate, and how he’d tried, as best he could, to keep the estate from hemorrhaging everything.
Justine grew increasingly anxious as he spoke, as if these matters of the Hamilton finances were somehow hers. “Are you...are youpoor?”
William looked startled. “No. Personally, I’m solvent, thanks in part to an inheritance of my own from my grandfather. My father, however, has engaged in a troubling pattern over the years. It’s no’ well-known outside our family and our duchy’s closest agents. Most people assume what they know of me, when really, they know very little.”
She nodded. “The same is true for me. Once, I heard that I was an imbecile, and the palace kept me out of sight of the public, lest anyone discover the truth about me.”
“Good God.” He laughed with disbelief. “It will be the greatest surprise for them all to discover you are clever and astute, aye?” He gazed at her a moment. “If you could have your people know anything about you at all, what would it be?”
“Besides the fact that I need eyeglasses to read?”
“Besides that.”
She thought about it a moment. “That I’m afraid.”
Her answer clearly surprised him—his eyes moved curiously over her face. Then he slowly leaned forward to put his hand on her knee and give it a light squeeze. “Donna be afraid, Justine. You will make an excellent queen. One who will be written about in decades to come.”
She smiled sheepishly. “I can hardly imagine that is true.”
“I can and I do. I’ve no doubt of it. None.”
Her smile turned grateful. “You really are a good friend, William. How I misjudged you.”
Curiously, he pressed his lips together and glanced down, and she wondered if that had displeased him in some way.
“Why do they no’ trust you?” he asked.
She didn’t have to ask what he meant. That was the thing about the two of them—they seemed to understand each other in many ways. “My parents?”
He nodded. “And the way the Bardalines watch you, and Robuchard’s desire to know what you’re about...it all suggests an uncertainty.”
It did. She would never be forgiven her transgression. “It’s a long story.” She moved the soup aside, having lost any interest in eating. A footman was there at once to remove her bowl and William’s, even though he was clearly still eating. Once the sovereign or heir had finished, the course was considered over. “No, wait—”
