nevertheless aware of their courierguide hovering behind her and Esme.
She was doing her best not to think of him by name in the hope that stressing his position would help her remember to keep him at arm’s length, more particularly to keep herself at arm’s length from him. Yet even though she kept her gaze fixed on the town, she was aware of him studying her, then looking at Esme, then back at her.
Esme, too, was pretending not to have noticed him, although Loretta was quite sure she had. “I know it’s a great disappointment that the castle is in ruins, dear, but I suspect the Primate’s Palace will be even more richly decorated. As I recall, Napoleon and King Francis signed the Peace of Pressburg there. As the Corsican upstart was ever one to insist on the highest degree of pomp and circumstance, that suggests that the Primate’s Palace was, at least at that time, the most significant palace in the town.”
As if just noticing Rafe, Esme turned. “Ah—there you are, dear boy. I was about to suggest that we visit the Primate’s Palace this afternoon. There’s plenty of other sights worthy of our attention, but we can leave them for tomorrow when we will have the whole day, yet poor Loretta here is so cast down with discovering the castle has been reduced to blackened rubble that we really should do something to distract her.”
If Loretta had been one of his sisters, Rafe would have scoffed, but she truly was, as Esme said, cast down, her expression lacking the animated eagerness he was accustomed to seeing; the spark of intelligent enthusiasm usually lighting her eyes was doused, absent.
Even as, inwardly frowning, he studied her, Hassan came up from the stern. When Rafe looked at him, he murmured, “No sign of cultists anywhere.”
“There—see?” Esme smiled at Rafe. “No reason whatever we shouldn’t indulge in an afternoon’s excursion.”
Eagerness lit her gray eyes, but Rafe couldn’t tell which she was most set on seeing—the architectural sights, or the sight of her great-niece tormenting him.
“I suppose you’re right.” Loretta turned to join the discussion, animation reinfusing her features to a small degree. “The Primate’s Palace is sure to be interesting.” She’d spoken to Esme, but then looked at Rafe. “And a short excursion off this boat will do us all good.”
He met her eyes, was peripherally aware of the others—Gibson, Rose, and Hassan, as well as Esme—waiting on his decision.
At least she was acknowledging his existence again.
“All right.” He glanced at Hassan, then at Esme. “Just the Primate’s Palace, then back.”
“Of course, dear boy.” Esme beamed. “Whatever you decree.”
A strong commander would not have been swayed by such frivolous arguments. On the other hand, the wisest commandersrescripted their plans to gain the most out of every situation.
Rafe told himself he’d been wise. He fully intended to put his foot down and ensure Esme, Loretta, and the two maids remained safely aboard whenever danger threatened. As it happened, there didn’t appear to be any overt danger in Pressburg.
Strolling behind Esme and Loretta as their party was conducted through the Primate’s Palace by a helpful custodian, Rafe was glad he’d chosen the course of wisdom. Not only was Loretta fully reengaged, energized and eagerly putting shrewd and insightful questions to the custodian, but contrary to every expectation he’d had, he, too, found the palace’s history of interest.
“And this,” the custodian pushed open a pair of doors, their intricate carving heavily gilded, “is the room where Napoleon and King Francis the Second met. It was after Napoleon’s victory at Austerlitz. King Francis had little choice.” Preceding them into the chamber, the custodian waved at an ornate table and two chairs. “They sat there, Napoleon on one side with his generals arrayed behind him, and behind them the standard-bearers with many of their legions’
She was doing her best not to think of him by name in the hope that stressing his position would help her remember to keep him at arm’s length, more particularly to keep herself at arm’s length from him. Yet even though she kept her gaze fixed on the town, she was aware of him studying her, then looking at Esme, then back at her.
Esme, too, was pretending not to have noticed him, although Loretta was quite sure she had. “I know it’s a great disappointment that the castle is in ruins, dear, but I suspect the Primate’s Palace will be even more richly decorated. As I recall, Napoleon and King Francis signed the Peace of Pressburg there. As the Corsican upstart was ever one to insist on the highest degree of pomp and circumstance, that suggests that the Primate’s Palace was, at least at that time, the most significant palace in the town.”
As if just noticing Rafe, Esme turned. “Ah—there you are, dear boy. I was about to suggest that we visit the Primate’s Palace this afternoon. There’s plenty of other sights worthy of our attention, but we can leave them for tomorrow when we will have the whole day, yet poor Loretta here is so cast down with discovering the castle has been reduced to blackened rubble that we really should do something to distract her.”
If Loretta had been one of his sisters, Rafe would have scoffed, but she truly was, as Esme said, cast down, her expression lacking the animated eagerness he was accustomed to seeing; the spark of intelligent enthusiasm usually lighting her eyes was doused, absent.
Even as, inwardly frowning, he studied her, Hassan came up from the stern. When Rafe looked at him, he murmured, “No sign of cultists anywhere.”
“There—see?” Esme smiled at Rafe. “No reason whatever we shouldn’t indulge in an afternoon’s excursion.”
Eagerness lit her gray eyes, but Rafe couldn’t tell which she was most set on seeing—the architectural sights, or the sight of her great-niece tormenting him.
“I suppose you’re right.” Loretta turned to join the discussion, animation reinfusing her features to a small degree. “The Primate’s Palace is sure to be interesting.” She’d spoken to Esme, but then looked at Rafe. “And a short excursion off this boat will do us all good.”
He met her eyes, was peripherally aware of the others—Gibson, Rose, and Hassan, as well as Esme—waiting on his decision.
At least she was acknowledging his existence again.
“All right.” He glanced at Hassan, then at Esme. “Just the Primate’s Palace, then back.”
“Of course, dear boy.” Esme beamed. “Whatever you decree.”
A strong commander would not have been swayed by such frivolous arguments. On the other hand, the wisest commandersrescripted their plans to gain the most out of every situation.
Rafe told himself he’d been wise. He fully intended to put his foot down and ensure Esme, Loretta, and the two maids remained safely aboard whenever danger threatened. As it happened, there didn’t appear to be any overt danger in Pressburg.
Strolling behind Esme and Loretta as their party was conducted through the Primate’s Palace by a helpful custodian, Rafe was glad he’d chosen the course of wisdom. Not only was Loretta fully reengaged, energized and eagerly putting shrewd and insightful questions to the custodian, but contrary to every expectation he’d had, he, too, found the palace’s history of interest.
“And this,” the custodian pushed open a pair of doors, their intricate carving heavily gilded, “is the room where Napoleon and King Francis the Second met. It was after Napoleon’s victory at Austerlitz. King Francis had little choice.” Preceding them into the chamber, the custodian waved at an ornate table and two chairs. “They sat there, Napoleon on one side with his generals arrayed behind him, and behind them the standard-bearers with many of their legions’
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