Rissa tried to put such thoughts from her head. It was ridiculous to feel such an attraction and attachment to a man she’d only met yesterday.
But that’s not true—you met him ages ago, in your dreams, the voice reminded her.
Indeed, she had dreamed about the big Kindred again last night, Rissa remembered now. She had dreamed she was watching him while he held her. It was almost as though she was hovering over her own body, watching herself sleep as James held her close.
He had touched her so tenderly in her dream—stroking a tendril of hair out of her eyes and caressing her heated face with his big, cool hand. And the look on his usually stoic features as he watched her sleep had been…well, it had been extraordinary.
He looked like he was having emotions—emotions about me, Rissa thought, as she waited nervously before the throne. Tenderness and caring had been written on the big Kindred’s dark face and he held her carefully against him, as though she was the most delicate porcelain that might break if he was rough with her…
She cut her eyes to the left, where her new Companion was standing, right beside her. He looked so tall and muscular and handsome in his black clothing and the new maroon frock coat which had been brought to him by the Royal Tailor only that morning.
But she must stop thinking this way, Rissa told herself. After all, it had been only a dream. In reality, James had no emotions—not even for her. He was only doing what he needed to in order to keep her safe and he would only be around until she found a husband and married. He—
“Announcing his Stewardship!” cried the herald and blew a blast on his silver horn.
After a moment, the Steward shuffled out. He looked slightly ridiculous in his baggy golden clothes, though his waistcoat, as always, was tight over his paunch, which he had grown since her father had died and he had begun eating the richer fare of the Royal table. His wig was slightly askew and he settled himself on the double golden throne with a loud burst of flatulence which caused the page boys around him to giggle and snort.
“Hush, now, hush,” he muttered, getting himself settled more firmly on the red velvet cushions. “Let’s come to order here and get this business done with, shall we?”
This did not seem to be an auspicious beginning to choosing the man who might be with her for the rest of her life, Rissa thought. But she hoped that things might get better soon and tried to keep a positive outlook as she waited for the Steward to go on.
“Princess Ka’rissa,” he said, squinting at her from under his crooked wig. “There you are. Now let’s see—there has been some talk of me not doing my duty by you and finding you a suitor of your own age.”
“Indeed, I have not heard such things, Uncle,” Rissa said politely. “Though I am happy to hear you may have a new suitor for me?”
“Yes, indeed. Indeed, I do.” He nodded decisively. “And since my stomach is sour this morning, let us dispense with formalities and get to the announcement.” He looked at the herald standing to one side of the throne. “Well? Go on—announce him!”
The herald blew a blast on his trumpet and called out,
“Announcing, His Grace, Duke Ferdinand Grabbington the Seventeenth of Elersham!”
17
Before the words had quite sunk in, the double golden doors to the right side of the throne opened with a flourish, revealing the Duke himself. He was wearing a scarlet coat and buckled shoes with heels that were at least four inches high. His long, drooping mustaches twitched like excited dogs wagging their tails as he gave Rissa a lascivious smile.
“Duke Grabbington?” Rissa gasped. She looked up at the Steward, who seemed to be barely paying attention. “Your Stewardship—Uncle!” she exclaimed. “Please, this man cannot be your choice for me!”
It was, of course, extremely improper for her to dispute the Steward’s choice. She had held her tongue when she had been presented both with the old man and the boy but Rissa found she could not hold her tongue now.
“Uncle, you cannot do this to me!” she protested. “Do you not know the Duke’s reputation? Why, he ruined poor Prunella Ascott only last Season!”
“Lies—all salacious rumors and lies, I assure you, your Stewardship,” Duke Grabbington said smoothly, as he came to stand before the throne.
The Steward, for his part, glared down at Rissa as though he was angry with her.
“What’s this? How dare you complain about my choice for you, girl?” he demanded.
“I’m not complaining, exactly,” Rissa said desperately. “I would just…like to know your thoughts, your Stewardship. Why would you think the Duke would be a suitable match for me?”