He made it so difficult to maintain any appearance of royal indifference—Not only here, but often at home as well, his demeanor ill-suited for subterfuge. Her natural reaction was a quickly flicked glance about the room, assessing who might be near. Even here, she could not fully believe that the walls did not have eyes.

"From France? My bedroom," she replied without quite thinking, and then looked quickly down to her book again with a small smile.

"I've been here before," she clarified, rallying, and looked up to him again. "I suppose it's safe to assume that you arrived through a different door. I think I would have remembered you being in my boudoir."