“You can’t be serious,” I snap. “Not after a scarelike this,” I add, waving my arm out toward the body of some poor thing meant to make me think it was my baby.
“That is exactly why,” he answers. “If we don’t go, they’ll know that they’ve gotten to you. Besides, those who perpetrated this scare are inside the castle right now… watching.”
“You can’t be serious?”
“Of course I am and if you stop to think about it, you know that I’m right, love,” he says gently. “You don’t trust them for a reason and rightly so. They’re dangerous.”
“What am I supposed to do?” I ask, hating the resigned tone of my voice.
He wraps me up in his arms again before answering as honestly and as gently as possible. And when I think about all the ways this could be wrong, I guess I can’t ask for more. “You’re going to go inside and act like nothing is amiss. You overreacted and he was in our rooms all along. Then you’re going to tell everyone to have a good night before you go dress for an evening at the opera. Maeve was instructed to set out everything you’ll need. Then we’re going to head out to a very boring performance—”
“Why?” I ask. “Don’t you like the opera?
“Absolutely no’,” he says, making me laugh. “It’s bloody dreadful. But we do what we must.”
“Then we come home and go to bed?”
“No,” he says with a sigh. “Then we go to someridiculously overpriced restaurant where the upper-class love to be photographed and we eat a late dinner.Thenwe come home and you make me a peanut butter sandwich in the kitchens because whatever tiny fancy monstrosity the chef serves will be beautiful, but I fear no’ enough. Can you do that for me?”
“I can.”
“That’s my girl,” he replies, kissing my forehead. “Now, off we go. I feel it’s rather like a plaster and ripping it off is better in the long run.”
I scrunch my nose. “I hate doing that.”
“Why am I no’ surprised, hen?” He smiles before kissing my nose. Then he lets me go, only to take my hand in his and lead me back inside the castle. If it was just me, I’d probably scurry back to my room and avoid running into any and all people. Unfortunately for me, Rhys has other plans in mind.
He leads us right to the parlor where Saoirse, the earl, and the mystery man are taking tea. I steel my spine and hold in the sigh that I want to let slip past my lips, placing a bland smile on my face instead.
“Is everything all right?” Saoirse asks with a raised brow.
“Of course,” I smile politely.
“You did seem quite upset when last we saw you,” the mystery man says.
“That was my mistake,” I reply through gritted teeth. “It must be because I’m a bit tired.”
“Hardly behavior befitting a queen,” the earlcomments.
“Like I said, I must be overly tired.”
“A queen cannot afford the luxury of being tired,” Saoirse inserts. “We must always be in top form.”
“Well, that must be my fault,” Rhys adds, making her face heat. I hate that he embarrassed her because the action is gross but also, I just hate her so it’s kind of moot. “I do love to keep her up late. We are trying for an heir.”
“And are you?” the earl snaps. “Pregnant?”
Rhys squeezes my hand silently. A quiet command to tread lightly. “I fear it’s too soon to tell. I’m sure you’ll be one of the first we share the news with when we can—after the appropriate people in government have been notified.”
“Yes, of course,” he replies blandly, but I can see that his thoughts are moving a mile a minute.
“Well, we just wanted to stop by and say goodnight,” Rhys says, angling me toward the door. “We’re off for the night.”
“Perhaps your new bride needs some rest,” Saoirse says. “I could accompany you.”
“Thanks for the offer,” I reply before Rhys can. “But I’m feeling much better.”
“Or you could both stay in for a quiet night,” Saoirse rallies. “Father loves the opera, don’t you? We could take your tickets and leave you two to… rest,” she says awkwardly.