Page 16 of A Slipper in the Smoke
“What does he want?”
“No doubt to secretly interrogate you about your father’s health.”
The cloud in Pip’s chest grew larger. “His niece already asked, and she’s a damn sight prettier than he is.”
“What did you tell her?”
“I did not reply.”
Susan sighed. “So they all know, then.”
Pip tightened his jaw. “I don’t suppose we could just tell them, could we?”
“I would advise against it. People will look for any weakness.”
“These people are our friends—”
“Theywereyour friends,” she told him. “When you were a child. Now some will be your allies, if not your enemies, and they may have yet to decide which.”
Pip nodded, hating the truth of her words. He liked people; he hated politics. And he hated not knowing who to trust, and hiding a part of himself, and that the political turmoil was considered so volatile at the moment that they couldn’t release the truth of the king’s ill health.
In typical Toulousian fashion, his father had put on a stiff upper lip, and refused to acknowledge that it was anything more than a cold, even when it was decided that Pip would travel in his stead.
“You’ll be fine, son,” he’d announced, patting his shoulder. “You’ve been training for this your entire life.”
“I don’t want to be king,” Pip had blurted, when what he’d actually meant wasI don’t want to be king right now.
The king’s smile hardened, and he lowered his voice to a whisper. “Neither did I, my boy, but it was my duty. And hopefully I’ve not done too bad a job. I’ve faith that you won’t, either, when it comes to it.”
It was as close as they came to goodbye.
Pip ran his hands through his hair at the memory as Susan helped him dress for dinner, mentally preparing himself to fob off the duke with excuses and divert the conversation to anything else.
“Make sure he has a second whiskey,” Susan advised. “He’s no tolerance for the stuff and will soon forget everything he wanted to ask you.”
“Excellent advice.”
“Have I ever given you another kind?” She smoothed down his clothes. “Off you go.”
Susan’s advice did the trick. Whenever the Duke steered the conversation towards the Toulousian king, Pip merely offered to top up his glass. The audience was over before he knew it, and the two were summoned to dinner.
He was pleased to find himself sat next to Lucia, and the absence of Queen Mira at the table lightened the atmosphere considerably.
Nero was absent, too.
“Do you think there’s any truth to the rumours about him and Mira?” he asked her, when the meal began without them.
Lucia shrugged, somehow making even that look elegant. “I have noticed the way she looks at him, and believe there may be some attraction on her part, but it is unlike Nero not to speak of his conquests. Besides, she doesn’t seem bothered by his other… pursuits.”
Pip was inclined to agree. It must just be a rumour.
And yet, the way Nero had reacted to her summons in the garden… something was going on between them, surely, romantic or otherwise.
“She’s your cousin, isn’t she?” he asked instead. “Distantly.”
The Queen, with her pale, white beauty, like a polished icicle, was as different as could be from the fire and warmth of the Firenzians.
“By marriage, at least,” Lucia responded. “The first one.”
