"It's not necessarily a flaw either."
They stood there for a moment, neither quite ready to end the conversation. The sun was fully up now, the village awake and bustling with fair preparations. Alaric could hearhammering from somewhere, probably another booth being constructed.
"I really do need to start the bread," Marianne said finally.
"And I need to review ledgers."
"Actual ledgers this time, not bakery windows?"
"I make no promises."
"Try not to lurk too obviously."
"I'll work on my subtlety."
"You do that."
She disappeared into the bakery, and Alaric stood there for a moment, still holding the ridiculous apron he was wearing, covered in flour and the remains of his morning's baking adventure.
***
"Your Grace looks cheerful," Grimsby observed, appearing with his usual impeccable timing.
"I look like I've been in a food fight."
"A cheerful food fight, apparently."
"There's no such thing as a cheerful food fight."
"Your expression suggests otherwise."
"My expression is neutral."
"Your expression is what I believe the locals would call 'besotted.'"
"That's absurd."
"That's accurate."
"I am not besotted with anyone."
"Of course not, Your Grace. You simply spent the morning baking pies with a widow while wearing her mother's apron."
"That was... circumstances."
"Romantic circumstances?"
"Accidental circumstances."
"The two are not mutually exclusive."
"They are in this case."
"If Your Grace says so."
"I do say so."
"Then it must be true."
