Chapter 412: A Rhetorical Question

Chapter 411: A Rhetorical Question

Lyria’s POV

"Stop l-laughing," I said, though I could not quite keep the smile from my own voice.

He made a genuine attempt.

"I shall try," he said, but the laughter did not stop. It continued to spill out of him, his hand pressed against his stomach as though the effort of containing it were genuinely painful.

There was something particularly infuriating about the fact that he did not even appear ashamed of himself.

I huffed and turned away from him, moving toward the bed where the cat sat regarding the proceedings with its customary air of complete indifference to everything that did not directly concern it. I reached down and gathered it into my arms, and it melted against me at once, its body relaxing as though it had been waiting for precisely this invitation.

I rubbed my hand through its soft black fur, grateful for the fact that it would not laugh at me.

"D-do not mind H-His Grace," I said, my voice small and entirely for the cat. "He is b-being quite d-disrespectful."

The cat gave a soft meow, as though it understood every word and had formed its own opinion on the matter.

I smiled.

"And I w-will give you a p-perfectly suitable name," I promised it. "When I have h-had the time to think of one."

Behind me, Duke Valenridge’s laughter finally subsided into something quiet chuckles.

"So," he said, his voice still carrying the warm remnants of it, "you intend to give it a gender-neutral name?"

I gave him a glare.

It was not a particularly effective. There was no real heat in it, and from the expression on his face, he was perfectly aware of that.

"That is n-not what I m-meant," I said.

"That is precisely what you said."

I chose, with great dignity, to ignore him.

I settled the cat more comfortably against my arm and turned my attention toward the matter of his unexpected presence in my chambers at this hour.

"D-do tell, Your Grace, w-what prompts you t-to visit me t-this morning?" I asked. "S-should you not be on y-your date with Princess J-Jacinta?"

Duke Valenridge looked at me, his brow furrowing with what appeared to be confusion.

"Who?" he asked.

I blinked.

"You d-do not know who P-Princess Jacinta is?"

He shook his head.

"I do not believe I do."

I continued to stare at him for a moment.

"You a-are jesting."

"I am not."

But he was.

I knew perfectly well that he was, because every person in this kingdom knew who Jacinta was. It seemed hardly conceivable that a gentleman of his position could be genuinely unaware of a princess with whom he was supposedly expected to spend some portion of the morning.

Perhaps, like Duke Thorncrest, he simply did not particularly care.

"Y-your Grace is s-supposed to be on a d-date with Her H-Highness at this very moment," I informed him.

"As far as I am concerned," he replied, "I am entirely free for the day. The only date I had arranged has been cancelled. My companion is, I am told, in ill health."

He gave me a pointed look as he said it.

"I am n-not ill."

"I know," he said.

The faint amusement in his eyes suggested he had known perfectly well before he arrived.

"And since the various forces arrayed against us seem quite determined to prevent me from having a proper date with you, even after I conducted myself so admirably during the competition, I have decided to bring the date to you instead."

"I b-beg your pardon?"

"I intend to keep you company throughout the day, Your Highness."

"A-are you quite alright?" I asked immediately.

He tilted his head slightly, and I realised my error almost immediately.

The question had escaped me before I had properly considered whether it was appropriate to direct at a man of his standing, and I was already drawing breath to correct myself when he spoke.

"You are quite observant, Your Highness," he said. "I am actually not alright."

I stared at him.

"W-what?"

"I said I am not alright," he repeated, entirely without drama. "You may confirm this with my guards and my valet if you so wish. They will furnish you with the same answer, and with evidence besides."

"Also," he continued, "you need not apologise for asking, as you were about to do. You may ask me anything you wish, Your Highness."

"B-but I—"

"I should like to stop you there," he said, "for I have a feeling whatever you are about to say will be something that diminishes yourself, and it is a quality I find I do not particularly enjoy in you."

His expression became a degree more serious, though it did not lose its warmth entirely.

"You are a princess, Your Highness. Whatever the circumstances may be, you have every right to enquire after someone in your company. I dare say I quite like it when you do. It affords me the opportunity to demonstrate my charm."

A disbelieving laugh escaped me before I could catch it.

"How does p-proving you are n-not alright d-demonstrate your charm?"

"You tell me," he said with a slight lift of his shoulder. "I suspect you find it rather endearing."

I scoffed.

"That is s-still to be d-determined."

He smiled at that.

"I have time enough. I shall make you admit it before long."

The cat shifted in my arms and butted its head gently against my chin, which was, I decided, considerably more sensible company than the man currently standing in the middle of my chamber looking entirely too comfortable.

"Anyway," Duke Valenridge continued, "I came for something else besides, though it shall not prevent me from remaining as long as I had resolved to."

He looked at me directly.

"But, Your Highness, do tell me what occurred at the arena."

The amusement in his expression had faded considerably now.

"I find it admirable," he said, and there was no question that he meant it. "And yet I must confess it is a condemnable action too."

I paused, my hands still upon the cat, and looked at him.