“Ha!” said Reg, with another rattle of tail feathers. “That scatterbrained flibbertigibbet turn down the chance to romp around on foreign soil being a secret government agent? Don’t be daft, madam. You try keeping her out of this and she’ll do you a bloody mischief, mark my words.”
Drat. The bird was right. Sighing, Melissande looked at Sir Alec. “I suppose it has to be Bibbie?”
“I’m afraid so,” said Sir Alec, markedly unenthusiastic. “Since there are no female janitors. It’s a case of making the best of a bad situation.”
Oooh, he could be a sarky bugger when he felt like it. “Well, fine, only Monk’s not going to like this idea. And what about their parents? Bibbie’s still under age. Not by much, but still. You can’t send her off janitoring without first asking them.”
“Mister Markham’s preferences do not largely figure in my decision-making, Miss Cadwallader,” Sir Alec said, very chilly. “As for his parents’ position, I’m sure you’re aware that the Markhams have a long and illustrious history of serving their country in whatever capacity their country requires. I don’t anticipate any difficulty.”
And if he was wrong it was more than likely that Sir Ralph, so important and influential and as dedicated as Sir Alec, would allay his brother and sister-in-law’s concerns for their daughter with whatever flummery he could think of. As a career politician, he could probably do it in his sleep.
Melissande felt her insides jump with nerves. “You’ve got an answer for everything, haven’t you?”
“No, Miss Cadwallader,” Sir Alec said quietly. “If I did, this conversation would not be necessary.”
Bugger the man for a boat-load of monkeys. She was not going to feel sorry for the horrible position he was in.
“And now that the situation has been thoroughly explained,” Sir Alec continued, “I must have your answer. Will you attend the Splotze-Borovnik wedding in your capacity as New Ottosland’s princess, thus providing Mister Dunwoody with the cover he needs to undertake a mission that might well prevent the outbreak of war?”
Oh, well, yes, fine, if he was going to put it like that.
“Sir Alec,” said Rupert, before she could reply, “I feel bound to point out that when you asked me to assist you in this matter, you did not phrase your request in quite those terms. In fact you entirely failed to mention that if she attended this wedding my sister might well be in danger.”
The look Sir Alec gave him was daunting. “Your Majesty, given the nature of my work, to which you were long ago made privy, I rather thought the question of danger was a given.”
Rupert stood, slowly. The sunshine pouring through the open office window woke his silvering blond hair to golden fire, caught a glitter in his eyes, and traced the edge of his sharply tightened jaw. Melissande, watching him, was suddenly very much reminded of Lional.
She leapt between the two men. “Right. Be quiet, both of you. In case it’s slipped your notice, I’m no more a child than Gerald is.” She rested her hand on Rupert’s iron-tense arm. “Yes, Rupes. It’ll be dangerous. But what Sir Alec’s asking of me is no less than he’s spent his whole life asking of himself. So it’s not like he’s being a hypocrite.” She tightened her fingers. “The thing is, if this weren’t desperately important Sir Alec would never ask for my help. He loathes the fact that civilians are mixed up in his precious Department business. And because it’s important, I have to say yes. Even if it means braving Crown Prince Hartwig of Splotze.”
“I’m sorry?” said Rupert. “What are you-”
“Oh, you know,” she said, and shook his arm a little. “Hartwig at New Ottosland’s last centennial celebrations. He couldn’t keep his hands to himself, remember? And Hartwig being Hartwig, I very much doubt if anything’s changed. It doesn’t matter that he’s married, either. He was married when I was sixteen. But you don’t need to worry. I’m pretty sure I can keep him at bay and still avoid an unfortunate international incident.”
Rupert was neither amused nor appeased. “I’m not talking about a trifling matter of wandering hands, Melissande! What Sir Alec is asking-”
“Trifling?” She smacked him. “Honestly, Rupert, if you’d ever had Hartwig’s hands slipping below your equator you wouldn’t be using words like trifling.”
And that made her brother smile, as she’d intended. She smiled back, then turned.
“As for you, Sir Alec? I’ll thank you to remember that Rupert isn’t one of your subordinates, he’s the crowned sovereign of a nation. I don’t ever want to see you raise an eyebrow at him, or hear you speak to him in that snooty tone of voice, ever again. Understood?”
After a moment of silent consideration, Sir Alec offered her a slight bow. “Understood… Your Highness.”
“Good.”
“I take it this means you’re agreeing to my proposal?”
“Under protest,” she muttered. “I still think you’re wrong sending Gerald. But since it’s clear I can’t talk you out of it…”
“No, I’m afraid you can’t.”
She sighed. “Well, that still leaves Bibbie. Will you allow me to tell her she’s needed? If she is coming, I’m going to have to educate her in the protocols of royal lady’s maidship anyway, so you might as well.” She sniffed. “After all, it’s not like I can tell her any dire government secrets, is it, since you’ve been very careful not to reveal any.”
Another slight bow. “By all means.”
On the ram skull, Reg chattered her beak. “Oy. If you don’t mind. What about me?”
“Yes?” said Sir Alec. “What about you?”
“Well, you’re not leaving me behind!”
“D’you know, Reg,” said Sir Alec, dangerously bland, “I rather think I am. I’ll ask you to bear in mind your-” A glance at Rupert, who didn’t know everything about what his sister and her friends got up to. “Unusual circumstances.”
Reg’s feathers trembled from beak to tail. “What? You’re going to use that as an excuse to keep me here while you send my Gerald gallivanting off to an international war-in-waiting? In his condition?”
“Reg…” Sir Alec’s steady gaze was more unforgiving than honed steel. “You’re forgetting that Mister Dunwoody isn’t your Gerald. He might well be, one day, in the fullness of time. And I’m sure I hope that will be the case. But today, you and he are very little better than strangers. Moreover, you would be a distraction that he can ill afford. He is burdened enough at the moment, don’t you agree? Surely, if you do care for him, you’ll not add to the weight.”
Tears pricking, Melissande held her breath. Sir Alec, in his cool, detached, totally unsentimental way, was right. Drat him again. And oddly, because he was so coolly detached, she thought she’d never seen him so deeply moved.
As for Rupert, he was looking confused. She shook her head, just a bit, and let her eyes plead for his silence.
With a sad little sigh, Reg deflated her feathers. She’d gained some much-needed weight over the past week or so, but she was still too thin. Forlorn on the ram skull, she hunched her head to her chest.
“Fine,” she snapped. “You win. But I’m warning you, sunshine. If anything happens to Gerald I’ll-I’ll-I’ll poke you in your bloody unmentionables. Just you see if I don’t!”
CHAPTER FIVE
Bibbie’s delighted squeal was so loud it was a wonder she didn’t shatter the office window.
“Really? Sir Alec really wants me to be one of his janitors? Oh, Melissande!”
Heart rapidly descending towards her neatly buttoned shoes, Melissande held up her hands.
“No, Bibbie, that is not what he wants. In fact, I think I can safely say that is the last thing he wants.”
Delight instantly transformed into dudgeon. “But he wants you?”
Oh, lord. “No, Bibbie, he doesn’t,” she said carefully. “All he wants is this problem with the Splotze-Borovnik wedding, whatever it is, to go far, far away. And if that means he has to involve us then he will. But only with great reluctance. In a very bad mood.”
Bibbie flounced round her desk and dropped into her chair. “How d’you know he was in a bad mood?”
“Ha!” said Reg, who’d shifted from her ram skull to the windowsill. “Your precious Sir Alec was born in a bad mood.”
