George. Mind you don’t tell anyone!”
Annie took Phaedra by the arm and pulled her into the privacy of her bedchamber. “Are you mad?” she demanded furiously. “You could have been killed, pulling a stunt like that!”
Phaedra gave her friend a wry look. “You’re a fine one to talk, Annie Trevarren. Last night—at just about this time, I believe—you were dangling from a tower by a rope!”
Temporarily stumped, Annie didn’t say anything, but she continued to glare at her friend in disapproval.
“Sorry for the intrusion,” Phaedra said brightly, gesturing toward the terrace. “I wanted my own balcony, of course, but I got yours by accident.” With that, she waltzed over to the door that linked their two rooms, opened it and vanished, leaving Annie to bluster and pace.
A few minutes later, Phaedra returned by the same door, wearing a nightgown and wrapper and carrying Annie’s breeches and shirt, now neatly folded. “I hope you don’t mind my borrowing them,” she said. “They’re quite handy for mounting ladders.”
“Where were you tonight?” Annie demanded, unable to contain the question for another moment.
Phaedra shrugged. “I was out riding, that’s all. I needed to think.”
“Were you alone?”
The slightest hesitation preceded Phaedra’s reply. “No,” she said. “Of course not. These are dangerous times, even when one stays within the walls of St. James Keep. I was accompanied by one of Rafael’s guards.”
Annie was still troubled, although she wasn’t sure why. She reached out and snatched her clothes from Phaedra’s hands. “You lied to me,” she fussed. “You said you had a headache!”
“I did have a headache” Phaedra replied smoothly. “It’s marvelous, isn’t it, what a little fresh air can do?” She gave a delicate yawn. “Well, good night,” she said, walking off again.
“What about Mr. Haslett?” Annie called after her. “Sooner or later, you’ll have to face him and tell him you wish to be released from your betrothal.”
Phaedra stood very still, and she did not turn to face her friend. “I’m hoping Rafael will do that for me, once you’ve spoken to him,” she said. There was nothing of her former blithe attitude in her tone or manner; instead, her shoulders slumped with despair and her head was bowed.
Annie felt a keen stab of pity. “I’ll go to him tomorrow,” she assured her friend.
Annie didn’t sleep any better that night than she had the one before. She kept rehearsing what she would say to Rafael, and how she would say it, over and over again.
Rising at dawn, she was at once wide-awake and exhausted. She groomed herself and then put on a black riding skirt, a white shirtwaist with ruffles on the bodice, and a dark blue fitted jacket. She forced her unruly hair into a loose knot at her nape and left her room, striding along the passageway with a confidence she didn’t feel, rehearsing again as she descended the staircase and crossed the great hall.
After her talk with Rafael, Annie thought, she would reward herself with a horseback ride to Crystal Lake. It was still too cool for a swim, but she might be able to kick off her boots and wade comfortably.
Lost in her varied and jumbled reflections, Annie was taken by surprise when she collided with the prince himself, just at the edge of the courtyard.
He had been fencing again, and the front of his shirt was stained with sweat from the intensity of his exercise. He carried a rapier in his right hand, and behind him was Edmund Barrett, who had obviously been his opponent.
With a circumspect nod, Barrett went on, disappearing into the great hall, but Rafael remained, gazing quizzically at Annie’s face, as though she’d come out of a lamp, like a genie.
“Good morning, Your Highness,” she finally blurted out, awkward and flushed. Annie clung valiantly to her objective, afraid that if she let it out of her thoughts for a moment, she’d forget it entirely.
The corner
Annie took Phaedra by the arm and pulled her into the privacy of her bedchamber. “Are you mad?” she demanded furiously. “You could have been killed, pulling a stunt like that!”
Phaedra gave her friend a wry look. “You’re a fine one to talk, Annie Trevarren. Last night—at just about this time, I believe—you were dangling from a tower by a rope!”
Temporarily stumped, Annie didn’t say anything, but she continued to glare at her friend in disapproval.
“Sorry for the intrusion,” Phaedra said brightly, gesturing toward the terrace. “I wanted my own balcony, of course, but I got yours by accident.” With that, she waltzed over to the door that linked their two rooms, opened it and vanished, leaving Annie to bluster and pace.
A few minutes later, Phaedra returned by the same door, wearing a nightgown and wrapper and carrying Annie’s breeches and shirt, now neatly folded. “I hope you don’t mind my borrowing them,” she said. “They’re quite handy for mounting ladders.”
“Where were you tonight?” Annie demanded, unable to contain the question for another moment.
Phaedra shrugged. “I was out riding, that’s all. I needed to think.”
“Were you alone?”
The slightest hesitation preceded Phaedra’s reply. “No,” she said. “Of course not. These are dangerous times, even when one stays within the walls of St. James Keep. I was accompanied by one of Rafael’s guards.”
Annie was still troubled, although she wasn’t sure why. She reached out and snatched her clothes from Phaedra’s hands. “You lied to me,” she fussed. “You said you had a headache!”
“I did have a headache” Phaedra replied smoothly. “It’s marvelous, isn’t it, what a little fresh air can do?” She gave a delicate yawn. “Well, good night,” she said, walking off again.
“What about Mr. Haslett?” Annie called after her. “Sooner or later, you’ll have to face him and tell him you wish to be released from your betrothal.”
Phaedra stood very still, and she did not turn to face her friend. “I’m hoping Rafael will do that for me, once you’ve spoken to him,” she said. There was nothing of her former blithe attitude in her tone or manner; instead, her shoulders slumped with despair and her head was bowed.
Annie felt a keen stab of pity. “I’ll go to him tomorrow,” she assured her friend.
Annie didn’t sleep any better that night than she had the one before. She kept rehearsing what she would say to Rafael, and how she would say it, over and over again.
Rising at dawn, she was at once wide-awake and exhausted. She groomed herself and then put on a black riding skirt, a white shirtwaist with ruffles on the bodice, and a dark blue fitted jacket. She forced her unruly hair into a loose knot at her nape and left her room, striding along the passageway with a confidence she didn’t feel, rehearsing again as she descended the staircase and crossed the great hall.
After her talk with Rafael, Annie thought, she would reward herself with a horseback ride to Crystal Lake. It was still too cool for a swim, but she might be able to kick off her boots and wade comfortably.
Lost in her varied and jumbled reflections, Annie was taken by surprise when she collided with the prince himself, just at the edge of the courtyard.
He had been fencing again, and the front of his shirt was stained with sweat from the intensity of his exercise. He carried a rapier in his right hand, and behind him was Edmund Barrett, who had obviously been his opponent.
With a circumspect nod, Barrett went on, disappearing into the great hall, but Rafael remained, gazing quizzically at Annie’s face, as though she’d come out of a lamp, like a genie.
“Good morning, Your Highness,” she finally blurted out, awkward and flushed. Annie clung valiantly to her objective, afraid that if she let it out of her thoughts for a moment, she’d forget it entirely.
The corner
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