"How did you...?" I started, once again at a loss for words. Andrew smiled that lopsided smile of his. "Honestly, Libby, I grew up in this palace - I know my way around the service corridors. You weren't in your suite, so I guessed you'd be here," he said, glancing down at the envelope in his hand. "You came looking for me?" I blurted out before I could think up something more intelligent to say. "James had been going on and on about inviting Ella out for a walk, so I figured I'd seize my opportunity to figure out why you've been avoiding me," Andrew said, crossing the room to collect the book of legends and turn it over to look at the cover, "Why are you putting this away? Surely you're not so fast a reader that you've already finished it," "She's sending me home," I blurted out again. Andrew's smile died. "Why?" he asked, still holding the book. "Because James is about to tell her that you and I are...friends," I said, my words tumbling out in a rush, "It's why he didn't want me to chaperone them on the walk with Emily and Rosanna. Ella's already figured out that I've been lying about seeing the seamstress for fittings, so-" "James isn't telling her," Andrew said, cutting me off. "How can you know that?" I asked. Andrew tucked the envelope he'd been holding into his jacket pocket, looking down at the book in his other hand. "Because I told him not to," he said, lifting his green eyes to meet mine. I said nothing as a tentative twinge of relief blossomed in my chest. "It was apparent after I'd seen you last night that James hadn't been honest with me," Andrew said, "He'd told me that you hadn't wanted the ticket, so when I came upon you at the theatre I may have said some dreadfully unkind things to him after the intermission," "Then how can you be sure he's keeping his word and not telling Ella?" I asked. "James may be many things, but he is still my best friend. He was attempting to act in my best interests, but our views on what those are aren't exactly aligned," Andrew said, "I left no uncertainty where the matter of informing your cousin was concerned," "Thank you," I said, clasping my hands together when I realized I'd been about to touch his arm in gratitude. "Don't thank me just yet," he said, "Because I still have to ask you why you were throwing yourself at William Weatherington last night," "I wasn't throwing myself at Weatherington," I protested, moving to turn away to hide the heat rising into my cheeks. That Andrew had noticed my utter failure of an attempt with William was downright mortifying. "I'll admit your simpering needs some work," Andrew said, catching my arm as a grin tugged at the corners of his lips, "But you're not answering my question," I couldn't think about anything except his hand on my arm, the heat rising in my cheeks in earnest this time. I wasn't able to string together a coherent thought, let alone a lie for why I'd done what I did the night before, so I settled for blurting out the truth. "My parents have ordered me to find a husband before the end of the Season," I said, my eyes turning towards Andrew's of their own accord. His thumb ran a circle on my arm before he let it go, my skin tingling even once his hand was gone. "And of all people you set your sights on William," Andrew said. "I didn't set my sights set on anyone," I huffed, "My mother sent me a list and his name was on it. Or at least it used to be," "It used to be?" Andrew asked, cocking an eyebrow. I made a face. "I asked him about military tactics and he nearly had a stroke," I said. Andrew laughed. "Of course he did! To William, women are pretty, dainty, brainless things," Andrew chuckled as I shuddered, "You should allow me to see this list of yours so I can scratch out everyone that wouldn't suit you," "I don't think any of them will suit me, which means I'll have to settle for whatever half-dead old duke my mother can dig up," I said, chewing my lip. "Well we wouldn't want that, now would we?" Andrew asked. "As a matter of fact I would," I said, running a hand along the bookshelf if only to keep from looking at Andrew while I let spill another of my secrets, "Because the sooner my husband is in the grave, the sooner I'm free to do as I like with my life. I'd much rather be a widow than a wife," "And what exactly do you plan to do as a widow that you couldn't do as a wife?" Andrew asked, leaning against the bookshelf in front of me to get my attention again. "Oh anything and everything. Travel the world, explore countries whose names I can't pronounce, read the entire contents of a library..." I said, looking around wistfully at the books I had yet to even open in that room alone, "No man my parents choose would ever permit such things, they'd lock me up in a cage of a house and tell me to behave like a lady," "I'd never cage you," Andrew said. I looked at him, suddenly acutely aware of how close we were standing, only the book of legends between us. I covered up the swooping feeling in my stomach with a laugh, turning away to put some distance between us. "Whoever marries you gets to be queen," I said, shooting him a look as I settled into the chair reading desk. "That is the way it works when one marries a crown prince," Andrew said, following me to take the seat opposite and laying the book out on the table. "Queens tend to be kept in even more restricted cages, albeit gilded ones," I said, looking around the room again. Andrew grimaced a little, dropping his eyes to where he was tracing the edge of the desk with a finger. "It's not that terrible, depending on how you look at it," he said, "And there is a measure of power that comes with being queen," "The power to scold naughty debutantes and choose how all the ladies of the court spend their afternoons?" I asked. Andrew chuckled ruefully. "A little more than that," he said, his smile dying as he continued, "That's the part she hates the most of all, you know. The debutantes. She doesn't like most of them, she says they're mostly here in pursuit of a crown," "Well isn't that the point?" I asked, realizing at the flash of hurt in Andrew's eyes that it was the wrong thing to say. But like a real king in training, he covered the emotion up well, his tensed jaw muscle the only evidence of what he'd so briefly allowed to cross his face. "Yes, I suppose it is," he said, "After all, according to her the definition of a successful Season is if one leaves engaged or married," "I'm sorry," I said, only to be answered with a rueful smile. "You're not pointing out anything that I don't already know," he said, reaching into his jacket for the envelope he'd stowed there earlier. "Which is why you didn't need to hear it again, so I'm sorry for saying it. I'm sure at least some of them are trying to get to know you as a person and not just as a prince," I said. A ghost of a smile crossed his face as he looked at me, something in his gaze making my stomach swoop again. "Some of them, yes," he said, toying with the envelope in his fingers before looking up at me again, "It seems we're both caught in quandaries," "That's a very nice way of putting it," I said. He slid the envelope towards me across the book that sat between us. When I reached out to take it, he caught my hand. "I didn't trust James to deliver this, which is why I came here in the first place, hoping to leave it for you. He said it was reckless, but please tell me you'll consider it anyway," I looked down warily at the mystery envelope, wishing the men in my life would stop handing them to me. "What is it?" I asked. He freed my hand and gestured for me to open it. I looked over at him skeptically as I slid the paper out. His Royal Highness Crown Prince Andrew requests your presence at the Midsummer Night's Masquerade "Andrew..." I started, but he didn't let me finish. "Please, Libby. Don't make me use my only direct invitation on someone else. I want it to be you," he said. I stared at him across the table, the swooping feeling in my stomach taking a not so pleasant turn as James' verbal lashing played over in my head. If Andrew doesn't choose a wife this Season, his parents are threatening to arrange a marriage...You serve as a distraction from the choice he is facing, which is the only reason he's spending so much time with you. "You don't have to decide right away, the ball isn't for a few weeks yet," he said as I hesitated, "But please, at least give it some thought," "I'll have nothing to wear," I said, blurting out the first excuse that could come to mind. Andrew's face melted into that lopsided grin of his, well aware that I was caving. "I'll have a word with our seamstresses on your behalf," he said. "And how am I supposed to explain this to Ella?" I asked, looking back down at the invitation if only so I could slow my beating heart with the way he was smiling at me. "Leave the details to me," he said. I looked up at him again, blowing my cheeks out. "You really are a troublesome prince, aren't you," I said, smiling despite myself as I shook my head. His answering grin sent my stomach to swooping again.