Outside, Wenthelen had offered hot coffee. Otto waited empty-handed and the footmen stood frozen like statues, but Simeon had sprawled onto the front steps, holding a steaming cup, boots thrust forward into the gravel. I had never invited him indoors, but my solecism appeared to have gone unnoticed, for he was content, picking at a bit of lichen on the stonework. Nearby, Otto peered about the property with predatory focus.
“Elin will be right down,” I informed them. “And if you’d like to wait inside, I—” I was about to make apologies, but Otto interrupted me.
“We’ll stay outside,” he insisted. “And won’t put you out long.”
Not suitable.I nodded, curtly. To Simeon, I said: “The ball appeared a great success.”
“We ran out of punch,” he confirmed. “Did you try the hot chocolate? It was imported. The chocolate, that is. We heated it ourselves.”
I was saved from answering, for Elin appeared behind me in the doorway. Simeon scrambled to his feet, leaving his porcelain cup on a stone plinth.
“Prince Simeon,” she breathed, dropping into a curtsy. In the few minutes since I had left her, she had fastened her hair and added color to her cheeks. When she rose, she added: “This is quite a surprise.”
The prince returned her obeisance with a short bow. “A happy one.”
She donned a sweet smile. “If our existence is a play, the unscripted scenes add depth and spontaneity. I’ll savor this unexpected visit for a long time to come.”
“Quite!” Simeon turned to Otto, a look of mirth on his face, and then back to Elin. “Shall we take a stroll? You can give me a tour of the…” He nodded off into the orchard. “Trees.”
I did not believe that the prince cared for the trees a whit. But the overcrowded grove might offer a bit more privacy than a drawing room with two chaperones. Otto and I followed a few lengths behind them as Elin and Simeon took the path along the side of the house, toward the apple trees. Ahead of us, Elin’s uncovered hair looked bright and clean against the many gnarled trunks and wet grass and a sky that threatened unpleasant weather.
We walked in uncomfortable silence. I wished we could hurry. I was eager to finish this strange stroll, for the day was cold and I did not like journeys that had unclear endings. But, ahead, Elin was picking her way with dainty steps, taking advantage of the prince’s proffered hand at every shift in the uneven terrain.
After a moment, Otto cleared his throat and nodded ahead to Lucy’s mews. “That’s where you keep the bird?”
I nodded. “She’s weathered over there on that block.” I pointed to the stump and circle of gravel.
He looked up at the sky and back over at the small structure as if making conversation pained him. “Why not just hunt here? The property is big enough and you have the open skies.”
I stiffened at the reminder of our encounter in the woods. “There’s nothing left to hunt here.” Lucy had been trawling our grounds since we’d first arrived.
Otto narrowed his eyes at the laurel hedge—the same one I had hurried through the first day I had met him—in the direction of the little path that led to the stream. “A goshawk would be better for the woods. No need for all that land. It would hunt from your arm.”
I glanced over, annoyed that he was explaining hawks to me—but more annoyed by the suggestion of a gos. Goshawks were not birds kept by the gentry. “What do you know of falcons?”
“Not very much,” he acknowledged. “I used to know an austringer. To ride with him.”
I did not want to discuss hawks or falconry with Otto. Not after he’d seen me covered in mud, holding a dead rabbit. Not after he’d deemed the very activity unsuitable. So I didn’t respond until the quiet became uncomfortable, and only then to change the subject.
“It is a long journey from the palace.” I turned to face the many apple trees.
“Aye.” Otto’s voice was gruff. “The prince was determined.”
“To see Elin?”
“To see Elin.” He nodded.
“You must not have slept.”
“We slept in the carriage.” He shook his head. “We shall not disturb your peace for much longer.”
I wanted to be rid of Otto, but his desire to be rid of me, too, was irritating. I could not help myself. I narrowed my eyes and held his. “No,” I said. “The prince need not spend any further time at the home of women who arenot suitable.”
Otto’s eyebrows rose, surprised, I think, at first by my tone, but a subtle realization soon crossed his face. He stopped walking and Ipaused beside him. I felt the briefest pleasure—the certainty of a final tug after tying the loops of a knot. But as it cinched, I wondered if I had not gone too far.
He nodded. “The prince has… infatuations.” He was carefully choosing his words in a way that focused my attention. “They do not last long. They are fleeting and… best left alone.”
I sucked in some of the cold air. I was not clear if he was talking about whatever had been intimated with Rosie, or what was happening ahead of us in the apple orchard.
