Page 107 of The Favourite

“I am sure,” Alisander murmured placatingly. “But I could, by far, see him turning toward some other trusted female presence in his life, then I could some passing fancy.” He paused. “He has always split affection from desire, this Argent King.”

Jane noticed the Queen sit up a little straighter. “You think, then … that the King …” She hesitated, then gave a quick shake of her head. “But no! This is nonsense, there is no other woman in his life he trusts!”

Alisander tipped his head. “I was thinking of the princess, your pardon, I mean, of course, the Lady Una, his royal cousin,” he said softly.

Two spots of color appeared in the Queen’s cheeks. “Una?” she repeated sharply.

Alisander nodded. “But yes. He has grown touchingly fond of her of late, has he not? Since her marriage to that good-looking brute, de Bussell. Does he not now call her ‘cousin’ and fuss over her visits, as though she were some great dignitary instead of a deposed rival to his throne?”

Jane could see the Queen was rattled by this argument, though she was trying not to show it. There was no denying the truth to his words. King Wymer had more than mellowed in his feeling toward the northern princess. She was now a great favorite in his eyes.

“Pffft!” Armenal said, rallying and waving a hand. “At least half of the King’s attentiveness is down to his inordinate fondness for de Bussell. He was always strongly prejudiced in his favor. I have sometimes wondered if Sir Armand might not be the very first of Wymer’s bastards.”

Jane had to smother her gasp. The Queen nodded sagely. “But yes, it would account, would it not, for his bias. It is true, he would have been very young at the time to have sired him, but it is not unheard of. There are certain rumors about Sir Armand’s mother, if you poke in the right corners. She was wildly popular at court in her youth and her retreat to the country was both sudden and unexpected.” The Queen looked arch. “It was all before my time, of course.”

“If so, de Bussell must have inherited his looks from his mother,” Alisander pondered aloud, and Jane thought of the tall and dark Sir Armand in contrast to King Wymer, who was fair-haired and blue-eyed and of middling height.

“It is sometimes the way,” the Queen said dismissively, resting her chin upon her hand. She was sunk in thoughtful silence for a while. “There is perhaps something in what you say, Lord Bardulf,” she conceded at last. “I must think it over, and we will have some further discussion at a later point.”

“But of course, my Queen,” Alisander agreed airily, as though he had all but forgotten what they had been talking about.

It was a dismissal, Jane realized as the Queen lifted a hand and Magnatrude Bartree hurried forward from her spot. She must have been waiting with bated breath for the summons, Jane thought sourly. Alisander turned to her and presented his arm. She took it and let herself be led away in a leisurely stroll around the grand chamber.

Jane felt strangely troubled by the interaction. It was not that she hadn’t seen Alisander enacting similar scenes dozens of times before. She had seen him stir the pot on countless occasions. No, she was not really sure why she felt so uneasy watching him operate his wiles on the Queen at such close quarters.

Perhaps it was because, before now, she had thought him merely an aimless troublemaker, whereas now she suspected his every word and action had some ulterior motive. Was it part of his being a diplomat? she wondered. She stole a sidelong look at him.

“You are quiet, Jane,” he murmured, his eyes wandering over the rest of the room as they walked.

“Yes,” she admitted. “The Queen was … different with me, somehow.” She hesitated, unsure how to explain her feeling. “Before you came along, she was speaking of the Western Isles and how much she misses it.”

He snorted. “The Queen likes to sigh over her homeland when it suits her,” he said dryly, “but I do not believe she misses it overmuch. There, she was one princess among many. She commands far more respect here as Wymer’s Queen Consort than she ever held as Wilhelm’s third sister.”

Jane digested this for a moment. “Why did you suggest … what you suggested to the Queen?”

“And just what was it, I suggested?” he asked, raising an eyebrow quizzically.

“Well, that she looks to bridge the gap that will be left in the King’s life by Bathilde.”

“Is that how you interpreted my words?” he asked, looking faintly surprised.

“It is how anyone would with half a brain,” Jane responded irritably. “You even warned her that if she did not, someone else would!”

His lips turned up at one corner. “Tell me, do you think she will heed my warning?” he asked, his eyes snapping to meet hers for the first time.

Jane hesitated to consider. “Yes,” she said grudgingly. “You scared her badly by suggesting the King would grow closer still to the Lady Una.”

“I do not know that she was scared, precisely.” He smirked. “But she certainly did not like the notion.”

“You knew exactly how to manipulate her,” Jane said accusingly. “I never realized before what a consummate schemer you are.”

“Shhhh,” he cautioned. “My dear, oblige me by keeping your voice low and sweet or others may also learn my true nature. We should not want that, now, would we?”

Jane found herself scanning the room to make sure they were not observed. “Why are you letting me see it now? Because I am your wife?” she asked. Before he could speak, she added awkwardly, “I am still a true subject of this land, Alisander.”

He looked amused. “My dear Jane, do you imagine that anything I said was remotely treasonous? I merely suggested to the Queen that she seeks a closer relationship with the King. Wherein lies the fault with that? Should not every wife strive to fulfill such a role in her husband’s life?”

“I suppose,” Jane replied, frowning. “But I do not think that is why you are urging it.”