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When the tea was poured, the footmen returned to their posts around the room. William slid them a look from the corner of his eye. “Can you no’ dismiss them?”
She sniffed and leaned forward to examine the food, and in doing so, afforded William a view of her bosom that most definitely confirmed she was entirely grown now. “Lord Bardaline prefers I be attended at all times. Unfortunately, some things are quite beyond my control.” She selected a teacake and put it on a small plate painted with bluebirds.
“You have me fooled,Your Royal Highness, for you looked very much in control earlier today.”
She slid him a suspicious look. “Pardon?”
“I saw you toss your fencing opponent onto his arse. Very nearly impaled him with your épée by the look of it.”
She nibbled the cake and then lowered it to her plate. “You know nothing, my lord. For one, I was wielding a foil, not an épée, and two, the mere suggestion I wouldimpalehim would run contrary to the sport. The fact of the matter is he tripped, because he is not very good with his footwork, and then he fell as a lark, pretending to be felled, and I merely played along.”
“Your instructor has poor footwork? I should think a princess could retain the best.”
“A princesscanretain the best. My instructor is the captain of the palace guard and is currently guarding the palace in St. Edys. My fencing partner was not my instructor.”
“Ah. Who was your friend, then?”
“I didn’t say he was a friend. And why do you want to know?” she asked, looking curiously at the contents of her teacup.
“No reason. Perhaps I know him.”
“You don’t.”
“I know many people in London.”
She sipped her tea. “His name is Lord Mawbley and he kindly offered to be my fencing partner.”
Mawbley.A smile slowly spread across William’s lips. A reprobate always recognized a fellow reprobate, and William and Mawbley had recognized each other years ago. In the not too distant past, a rumor had gone round that Mawbley had impregnated one of his chambermaids and had been disinherited for it. Whether or not that was true, William certainly didn’t know or really care, but it would explain Mawbley’s sudden interest in this particular princess’s hobby sport. “I was no’ aware that Mawbley’s talents extended to fencing.”
Princess Justine smiled wryly. “I assure you they do not.”
William laughed. She seemed to relax a bit when he did.
“You look very well, Your Royal Highness. In all regards.”
“Thank you.” Her response was perfunctory—and she didn’t bother to spare him as much as a glance with it. She pretended to examine the food again and William stubbornly waited a beat or two, thinking she might return the favor and comment on his appearance.
When she offered no such compliment, it vexed him to realize that it vexed him.
At last, she looked up, and he smiled at her so that she would know he understood she had deliberately remained silent. She may be a princess, but he’d flirted and teased many women in more sitting rooms than she would ever know, and he knew how to play this game.
“Will you not try the tea?” She nodded at his untouched cup.
He picked up the cup and saucer before him, then brought the cup to his lips. He locked his eyes with hers. She held his gaze. Ah, but she was willful...and he liked it. He decided to try a different tack.
“How did you find the journey from Wesloria, then?”
Princess Justine gave a half-suppressed laugh and picked up her teacup again. “Do you really care?”
He did not. But he left her in suspense for a moment and allowed his eyes to wander over her. Slowly. Appreciatively. And then said, “No. But I thought it polite to inquire.”
She could not completely suppress her smile. “Still honest to a fault, I see. You first—how did you find your drive to Prescott Hall?”
“Aggravating.” Another deadly honest answer.
“Oh? I thought the roads were quite good.”
“It was no’ the roads that have me aggrieved, aye?”
