Kuni herself had parried interest from two lords and a prince.
Graham and Jacob exchanged amazed glances.
Nobility was not the life Kuni was looking for. She did not expect them to understand.
“Did you ever meet Baron Vanderbean?” Marjorie asked eagerly.
“Of course not,” Elizabeth said before Kuni could respond. “How old do you think she is?”
“Bean brought us together and made us a family twenty years ago this summer,” Graham explained.
“Well before my come-out,” Kuni said. “I would have been five years old at the time.”
Marjorie perched on the edge of her chair, her hands clasped together. “What fabric did you wear? What were the colors? Tell me everything!”
“We all wore Balcovian amaranth,” Kuni said with a grin. “It is the official royal color. You can keep my hat ribbon, if you like it.”
Marjorie clutched her pink-stained hands to her chest and gurgled incoherently with joy.
“Marjorie feels about colors the way Graham feels about princesses,” Elizabeth stage-whispered to Kuni.
“Speaking of which,” Graham said pointedly. “Shall we allow ours to see her rooms and have a moment to herself? I can arrange a lady’s maid to your specifications while you settle in.”
Kuni had no intention of unpacking her valise. She wasn’t here to stay. A soldier should always be ready to march. But she wouldn’t mind spending a few days with Graham and his wonderful family.
He smiled at her. “Are you peckish? I can ring for a repast or have tea sent up to your chamber. Or if you’re feeling up to it, we’ll dineen famillein about two hours. Though I must warn you, our meals are not a formal affair.”
Kuni didn’t doubt that in the least.
“I will wait to dine with you,” she said, feeling suddenly shy.
Compared to stilted royal functions with all their pomp and rules, the Wynchesters were overwhelming in the best kind of way. Instead of being forced to make small talk with whoever was seated on her right, she suspected she could sit and watch them for hours without ever knowing what they might say or do next.
Graham rose to his feet and offered her his arm.
She took her leave of his siblings before accepting his arm and allowing him to lead her out of the salon.
“This way, my princess,” he said grandly. “Allow me to direct you to the foreign dignitaries wing.”
“You have a foreign dignitaries wing?”
“No.” His eyes laughed at her as they neared the entryway. “But we have several connecting guest rooms, if you want to combine two of them into one.”
“You are incorrigible,” she muttered. “I am not that spoilt.”
“You said the Pulteney was a hovel,” he protested.
“I did not say ‘hovel’! I said ‘barely tolerable.’” She gave him her haughtiest look, but could not hold it for long.
He burst out laughing. “You liked it?”
“I adored it,” she confessed. “It restored my faith in the notion that Balcovia is not the only nation with some degree of good taste.”
“I hope you like your guest chamber here half as much.” His soft gaze warmed her. “If there’s anything you need…or desire…”
They had stopped moving. This section of the corridor was out of sight from both the butler in the entryway and the siblings in the salon behind them.
He was not flirting with her, Kuni told herself.
