She grinned. “It’s very exclusive. Are you brave?”
“I hope so.”
“Can you fight dragons?”
“I’ve not yet been asked to.”
“Then I’ll decide later.” She paused. “Are you very rich?”
August groaned. “April.”
“What?” she said. “It’s a reasonable question.”
Theo, suppressing a smile, said, “I do not want for things.”
She nodded sagely. “Well, that’s good. A poor prince is no good at all. And you’re tall. That helps.”
“Are you a princess?” he asked her, deciding to play her game. Theo rarely admitted things to himself, but she was witty and amusing.
She lifted her chin with all the pride in the world. “I’m my father’s princess.”
August ruffled her hair. “She rules this house with sticky fingers and an iron will.”
“Since you aim to embarrass me before a duke, I shall do the same.” She turned to Theo. “August once ate an entire cakemeant for Mama’s birthday,” she said gravely. “He cried after. I saw it.”
Theo looked at August, who winced. “Is that true?”
“It was a very good cake.”
April giggled, and then as if remembering her purpose, she straightened and stepped forward. Her eyes turned serious again.
“I brought you something.”
“Oh?”
She thrust her gift forward. “This is for you. I embroidered it because I did not know if you had one.”
He took it gently. The stitches were uneven, the flowers slanted, the butterflies too fat or too thin, and his initials were crooked in the corner. It was imperfect, but she made it. And it was for him.
He smiled. For the first time in a while.
She beamed at him, positively radiant, then turned and skipped away, already calling for the cat she meant to dress in ribbons.
Theo looked down at the cloth in his hands and traced the crooked initials with one finger. This was something he had never been given before.
The warmth of that moment clashed violently with the chill gripping him now. He turned toward his desk and braced himself against its edge, his breath shallow.
I cannot afford this. I cannot afford to feel anything toward her. Not if it means I might lose her too.
April pushed back the covers and sat up slowly, the morning sun streaming pale and indifferent through the windows. Her body still ached faintly from the shock of the night before, but she was dry and warm now Still, more than anything, she felt unsettled.
She stepped out of bed and pulled a shawl over her shoulders before ringing the bell. Mrs. Maple and Miss Evans entered shortly after, the housekeeper holding a breakfast tray.
“Good morning, Your Grace,” Mrs. Maple said. “Mr. and Mrs. Roth departed early. Left at dawn, nearly. They asked that we send their warmest regards.”
“So suddenly?” April asked.
Miss Evans stepped forward and handed her a folded note. “Mr. Roth left this for Your Grace.”
