"I mean it," Andrew persisted, "It's a lucky thing his personal valet thought to keep it separate because it wasn't sealed. I doubt my father would find jokes about a court spy as amusing as I do," I chewed my lip, debating if I should be honest with him. "It was a highly improper method of message delivery," I admitted. He smiled anew. "Go on," he pressed, leaning forward onto the table. "I may have knocked over a butler and caused him to drop all his letters so I could mix mine up with them," I said, watching his face to gauge his reaction. His eyebrows hopped in surprise, but his eyes crinkled as he laughed, genuinely amused. "First I find you lurking outside my meeting with James, now you're assaulting butlers and sneaking things into my father's mail," he grinned, shaking his head in disbelief, "Whatever are we to do with you?" "I hope you won't join the campaign to send me home too," I said, my expression sobering as I realized how much trouble I'd be in if Ella ever discovered that I was speaking to the prince in secret again. "Who's campaigning to send you home?" Andrew asked, frowning. "Ella, Emily, any number of debutantes," I shrugged, "They didn't exactly enjoy me stealing you away from their croquet match," "Yes, I suppose we'll have to be a tad sneakier in the future," Andrew said pensively. "In the future?" I blurted, without really meaning to. I hadn't anticipated any more conversations with the prince besides our friendly, chance encounters at the grand events that all the ladies in waiting were invited to. "Of course," he said, as if it was obvious, "You're like a breath of fresh air in this stagnant season. Most of my conversations of late have revolved around nothing more than batted eyelashes and empty flattery," "However could that be?" I simpered, fixing a coquettish smile on my face as I bed up at him. Andrew grinned. "Oh please don't turn in to one of them," Andrew said, "I have enough fine ladies with delicate emotions to deal with," "Well you certainly won't have to worry about that from me," I laughed, "For no one has ever described me as a fine lady," "Why not? Don't most fine ladies hide away in libraries and sneak around dressed as maids?" Andrew asked. I darted a glance down at my apron and he laughed. "I was hoping you hadn't noticed that," I muttered, flushing. "It's only fair I pointed it out," he said, "After all, you called me an ungentlemanly ass," "I called you a cad," I corrected, "And I think I've had enough of your questions for one night," "Then at least grant me one more," he said, reaching out to rest his hand on the page I'd turned my eyes down to read. I sighed. "What were you doing in that corridor on the first night?" Andrew asked. I closed my eyes, smiling. Of all the questions for him to ask, once I'd answered this one there would be no doubt in his mind that I was not at all a fine lady. "I was trying to catch a mouse," I admitted, smiling sheepishly at him. "A mouse?" he repeated in disbelief. "Ella's other girls were being downright rotten, so I figured it would make for a nice bedtime surprise," I shrugged. Andrew bed once, then roared with laughter, nearly tipping over in his chair. "Where did you come from and however did you wind up in the royal court?" he asked, shaking his head with a grin when he was finally able to speak again. "Most recently, Hargrove," I said, "And I really have no idea," Andrew laughed again, pushing back his chair to stand. He reached into a pocket in his formal jacket, producing a matchbook. "I'll end my questioning for tonight," he said, leaning over to light the three-armed candelabra on the reading table. "Now that's much more gentlemanly of you," I said as the room was bathed in the soft glow of candlelight. "But you still owe me a dance," he said, tossing the matchbook at me. I caught it, looking up at him with raised eyebrows as he made his way towards the door, "Here's to hoping I won't have to hunt you down in a darkened library to claim it," "And here's to hoping you stop trying to land me in trouble," I replied, "Have a good evening, your Highness," "And you, Elizabeth," he said, bowing. "Oh please, just Libby," I said, "I haven't quite grown into Elizabeth just yet," "Of course, Libby," Andrew said, unable to keep the grin from his face, "But only if you call me Andrew," I looked up at him then, at a complete loss for words. He smiled before closing the door behind him. I slumped back in my chair, exhaling. I'd just gotten away with accusing the prince of being a cad and in return, instead of a verbal lashing, had gained the privilege to call him by his first name. It seemed that Hargrove's Manners Mistress had a thing or two to learn about the royal court.