“Then what am Isupposed to do?”
“Whatever else is left.” He leaned forward with an impish glint. “Like tending to me.”
“For that you have a valet. Besides, maids may not appear in the presence of Your Imperial Highnesses. It is strictly prohibited. It is the protocol.”
He waved an airy hand. “Then I shall change the protocol. Remember that in my chambers, only my own protocol applies.”
He was really in a quixotic, unreasonable mood. But because he was ill, Pippa could not bear to scold him. It was best to humour him for the time being, and to see whether one could reach a compromise.
“Very well. Seeing that you are still ill, I shall remain here, but only if you remain in bed.”
“But it is so infernally boring!”
“I could read you a book.”
He considered her offer. “Very well. Which book will you choose? It should be entertaining.”
She went to his study and looked at the books on the shelf. They were mostly classics and works on natural sciences and mathematics. Euclid. Aristoteles. Her fingers trailed the leather spines. There were German works and English ones. Her finger paused at a slim volume. Aha! Byron.The Corsair. She’d heard of this. It was a newly published narrative poem by a highly intriguing English poet and a sensation. She pulled out the slim volume and returned to the bedroom.
“I’ve already read it,” Klemens promptly informed her.
“But I haven’t.” Pippa sat on the chair and opened the volume.
“It’s brooding, dramatic, and the hero is a pirate. The entire story is emotion-driven and departs entirely from logic.”
“Nonetheless, it might be amusing. Let’s try it.”
Pippa read. After half an hour, she pulled a face and closed the book. “You’re right. The hero is becoming somewhat tiresome with his unpredictable passions. His actions seem to be irrational, motivated by self-destruction rather than strategy.”
“Told you so,” Klemens mumbled. He appeared to be half asleep.
Pippa set the book aside. “Why don’t you sleep now? It would do you good.”
She leaned forward to arrange his blanket.
He reached out and touched the necklace that dangled from her neck.
A satisfied smile crossed his face. “There it is. I feared you’d lost it, or worse, removed it.”
It was the little golden ring he’d given her.
Pippa clutched it. She hadn’t been able to bring it over herself to take it off.
“Keep it safe, Pippa. I will find a way. I promise.”
She should have taken it off there and then. Returned it to him. Told him that there was no way, and that he should not make promises he could not keep.
But she kept clutching the ring in her hand, as a whisper of an irrational hope stirred in her heart.
No doubt Lord Byron was to blame, she thought as she slipped out of the chamber.
All this romantic nonsense led to pain and heartache.
She shouldn’t indulge in it.
Chapter Nineteen
She wasin somewhat of a dilemma, Pippa mused, as she readied the washstand the next morning. It was a crushing moral dilemma with no resolution in sight.
