He chortles. “Silly me. I just meant that this is my first masque with a partner. At home, I frequently arrange my dolls in dances of delight. We are quite an energetic crowd.”
“That sounds so fun,” I reply, keeping my voice friendly. I turn and give Bessie a protective shove in the opposite direction.
Bachelor number two could be promising. He may be the youngest man here, in his early twenties, though his eyes appear older. He sort of reminds me of a basset hound. But who doesn’t love a basset hound?
“Lovely weather we’re having lately,” I comment.
He glances over at me, seeming tired as he stiffly bows. “Indeed.” Okay. Maybe he needs some time to warm up.
“Out of curiosity, are you married?”
He shakes his head. “I am yet to marry, though my father is keen that I find a bride within the month.”
“How interesting,” I say, my voice rising a note or two.
“My mother, however, insists that I take my time in selecting a wife. She will miss me quite dearly when I wed.”
“That’s nice.” I give Bessie a nudge with my shoulder. “It’s always a positive attribute when a man is close with his mother.”
Bachelor number two sighs. “Yes, I fear the bed will be quite cold without her.”
“Pardon?” I ask, hoping I heard misheard him.
“We still share a chamber, you see, but that will obviously have to end once I marry. As will the breastfeeding.”
I’m losing steam when we reach bachelor number three, a skinny man in his early thirties with a very eager countenance.
“And what are you mainly looking for in a wife?” I ask.
“Your Majesty,” he says, bowing down low. “I would love to find one who has all her teeth.”
“Anything else?” I ask.
He seems perplexed. “Not particularly, no.”
Bessie smiles a big toothy grin to show off the goods, and I quickly take her hand. “Don’t do that.”
Five minutes later, I’m wondering if convent life is the safest choice for my friend when we approach bachelor number four.
“What do you like to do in your spare time?” I ask, speaking to him without so much as a hello.
His eyes startle to find us standing beside him, but he clears his throat and straightens out the front of his gray doublet. He bows politely before standing up straight. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Your Majesty. I like to read. And I go out riding when the weather is fine.”
“Really?” I ask with cautious interest. “That sounds very pleasant. And are you close with your family?”
He shrugs. “As much as the next person is, I suppose. My father, Baron Dorford, is quite scholarly and prefers to stay away from court. My mother spends her days caring for my sisters.”
Bessie locks my hand in a hopeful death grip. Bachelor number four—do not break our hearts.
“And everyone has... their own rooms?”
“Of course,” he says, noticeably confused. “Why wouldn’t we?”
“No reason at all! Forget what I said. What’s your name?”
“Richard Lumley,” he replies with another bow.
“That is a great name. Richard, may I present my dearest friend, Bessie Stanley.”
