Aunt Mary gave big eyes to Mom.Mom stretched her lips downat Aunt Mary.
I struggled to think what to say while standing on a busysidewalk outside a museum.
“Can we go inside?”Maxine asked excitedly.
“Of course, poppet,” Loren murmured.
Maxine broke from Mom, came to Loren’s other side, hookedher arm in his, and guided us both toward the museum in a way that seemed,oddly, like she was saving him from Aunt Mary.
Beyond that, although in the last few days there had been amarked change in her—it was evident she was getting used to all of us and herreticence was quickly disappearing—that was in our zone of home and walks tothe shops and trips to the park.
We were now out in public, at a large, bustling museum, andalthough she expressed her desire to come with us, and she was very animatedabout that, we had all planned to keep a close eye on her to make sure she wasgood with it.
From the way she charged forth, she was more than good withit.
Which, I had to admit, was a relief, but it was also asurprise.
The place was busy, but of course, there was VIP treatmentthere too, and Loren availed us all of it.
Therefore, in no time, and with no bothering with the longlines, we were in the thick of the exhibition that included terrifying swords,bows and arrows that were obviously not mass-produced, but they looked far fromprimitive, and bejeweled daggers.There were also intricately woven rugs,exceptionally crafted silver chalices, extraordinary jewelry, startling mosaicsand even an enormous silk tent erected so you could go inside.And the interiorwas so sumptuously appointed, I was rethinking Loren taking an ambassadorship.Because if that was how they lived in Firenze, I was all in for the adventure.
It took a while, and me fielding a variety ofsee tothat!looks from my mother to get Loren to myself, away from the crowd(which, not incidentally, but we were gamely ignoring it, were almost asfascinated with us as they were with the exhibit), as well as away from Mom,Aunt Mary and Maxie.
He and I were standing off to the side when I asked, “Areyou all right?”
He didn’t seem upset anymore.In fact, his face wore a fondexpression (yes, almost to the point of doting) as he watched Maxine’sfascination with a painting on the back of a large hide that depicted amountain range and a huge, beautiful lake.
“Yes, of course, why?”he answered, but he didn’t take hisgaze from Maxine.
“Nothing,” I mumbled.
That earned me his attention.
“Why did you ask?”he pressed.
“Aunt Mary can be…”
He cut me off.
“They lived.People knew them.She’s not the only one tospeak of them.”
He was talking offhandedly, not to mention somewhat tersely,about his mother and sister.
“She didn’t mean to sound insulting,” I assured.“She givesbackhanded compliments like no one I’ve ever met, because they’re completelybackhanded, but she actually means them as compliments.”
“I’m not angry at your aunt,” he stated firmly.
“Okay,” I whispered.
His lips twitched.“I do spoil you, though.”
“You do not,” I returned.
He looked around us, pointing out that it was the middle ofthe day, and I had learned in finally getting to know my betrothed that hewasn’t the idle rich.Although he was considering a future endeavor of servinghis king (again) in one manner or another—along with his side pursuits of beinga vigilante—he, and his father, had a variety of things they needed to attendto in order to remain wealthy as sin.
I knew this because at dinner (another one we had alone,just two nights ago, outside a delightful brasserie at the edge of a largecobblestone courtyard, surrounded by trees, glass-fronted shops and othereateries—it was noLe Cirque Magique, but it was me and Loren alone,so it was its own version ofeverything), he had talked to me aboutthem.
However, I’d glazed over somewhere between his shippinginterests, some partnership he had with a rich guy named Apollo up inLunwyn, and the string of printing presses he and his dadowned acrossHawkvaleand down intoFleuridia.
