Her Rightful Place

26: The Speculation

"A letter has arrived for you from the Vyrunian palace," the Duke of Pelanshire greets the Prince casually as the latter staggers through the door to his apartments, clearly exhausted. Prince Xavier seems to revitalize, however, at the mention of a letter.

"Splendid news. Might I see it?" Xavier replies, trying extraordinarily hard to act unaffected by the news and failing.

The Duke smirks wickedly. "Well, I suppose that might be arranged." He slowly gets out of his chair and stretches, purposely taking an excruciatingly long time just to annoy the Prince. "Rough day with the Queen's mischief, I see?"

Xavier rolls his eyes. "Ridiculous. It seems that our Royal Advisers are not giving her as much financial freedom as she would like for the Midsummer's Eve Ball. They also will not permit her to be in charge of the decorations for said ball. As such, she is in a right foul mood and putting every servant who so much as looks at her the wrong way in an oubliette or a pillory or some other harsh punishment." The Duke finally gives Xavier the parchment in question. "Ah. Thank you." The Prince gratefully sinks into his chair by the fireplace as his eyes hungrily devour the words written neatly on the pages he holds, for it is indeed from Princess Mireille, as he had hoped. He releases a slight guffaw of disbelief at the Princess's derogatory remarks towards her own handwriting and grammar. Although her writing is entirely in Vyrunian, her grammar is flawless, and her hand far surpasses the Prince's own.

At first he is discouraged by the decidedly formal tone Mireille saw fit to use, but when he discovers that she is practicing for her lessons he cannot help laughing again. Clever lass! And he finds her remarks on her lessons and the like to be highly amusing. However, he is deeply troubled by the prevalent commentary on the religiosity of Vyrunian high society.

"A deeply religious lot, are they not?" he comments airily, hoping that Jerôme will rise to the bait.

"Aye, and a rather odd lot, besides. I hope Mireille is not suffering too much from their quirks," Jerôme replies mildly, still smirking slightly at his success in thoroughly irking the Prince.

"Her tone indicates that she is making the best of it, but I do fear that we could have done better for her than sending her home."

"If you fear she will be spoiled by the Vyrunian court, I pray you reexamine your lass. She is too strong to be subjugated by a few rules and overbearing priests, and she is uncommonly clever besides. Fear you not for your Princess. She will be as much a village maid when next you see her as she was when first you met. They may clean up her speech and dress her in Vyrunian clothes, but they cannot change her true nature." Xavier smiles at Jerôme's confidence.

"You are no doubt right as always. I simply wish that I could always feel the same confidence."

"What of her feelings towards you? Have you unearthed any hints?"

"What do you take me for, a lovesick fool? She did mention that Christelle has been less than faithful to you."

The Duke frowns. "You say that as though she has reason to be faithful to me," Jerôme replies stiffly; Xavier knows that this news is irksome to his friend, but that the Duke will never admit it. "There is nothing official between us. She has no reason to--"

"Oh, poppycock. You are jealous, as you ought to be."

"I have no idea what you are speaking of. Now, what of Mireille?"

"She began the letter quite formally, but the last few paragraphs are encouraging. She has solicited my advice on pranking tutors, if I have read it rightly, and I do believe she might want to stargaze with me on a roof sometime. And of course, she closed with 'Yours truly,' though I know not whether that has meaning." Jerôme smiles broadly at this news, not only happy for his friend but relieved to have escaped the subject of his blonde love interest.

"Excellent! It seems you have some hold on her heart, after all! Wait a day or so before replying. Write nothing hastily. But do make sure that your letter is ready to depart at the same time the official invitations to the Midsummer's Eve Ball are dispatched, for of course you will be inviting her personally and it would never do for her to receive one before the other. That would give the wrong impression."

"Of course, of course. And you ought to write your blonde spitfire, as well, and inform her that you have received word of her recent conduct and are much displeased," Xavier teases, eyes glinting with mischief.

"I shall do nothing of the sort," Jerôme huffs indignantly. "I have my ways. She will be in the palm of my hand, just you wait and see."

"Whatever you say, Jerôme. Whatever you say."