Page 12 of Gwen and Art Are Not in Love

‘Who was that girl?’ he said slowly.

‘What girl?’ Gwen said, the note of hysteria that she had noticed in his voice making an unexpected appearance in her own.

‘You know exactly which girl,’ he said, eyes widening. ‘You were spying onher.’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ Gwen said, but something had betrayed her – God, Merlin, the universe – because she sounded entirely unconvincing, and he looked triumphant. Heknew. Of course he knew.

It wouldn’t have crossed most people’s minds, but – he’d just been kissing aboy, hadn’t he?

‘Right,’ he said, the panic visibly draining from him. ‘Right.’

‘I … Listen, I don’t know what exactly you think you’ve discovered here, but—’

‘Why don’t we go and talk about this somewhere more private, hmm?’ He turned on his heel and walked away across the courtyard.

With the air of somebody condemned to an extremely painful death, Gwen followed.

Arthur had thought the guards might stop him; they certainly looked suspicious as he strode through the servants’ door with Gwendoline trailing reluctantly behind him, but she must have given them some imperceptible signal to fall back, because they didn’t follow him or try to slap him soundly for daring to be alone with the princess. If theyhadconsidered the possibility that he might be leading her off to impugn her virtue, they didn’t seem too bothered – perhaps they thought her virtue was in need of a little light impugning.

He located the door to the cellar and opened it with a flourish.

‘What’s this?’ Gwen said with disgust, as he took a lit torch from the wall and started down the steps into the darkness.

‘What do you mean, “What’s this”? You live here, don’t you?’

‘I don’t make a habit,’ Gwendoline said, stumbling on the stairs as she hurried to keep up, ‘of opening mystery doors and walking into dark tunnels with unreliable men.’

‘You should give it a try, it might loosen you up a bit,’Arthur said as they reached the bottom. ‘Anyway, this isn’t amystery door. It’s the wine cellar. Please tell me you knew about the wine cellar.’ The glow from the torch illuminated rows and rows of enormous barrels, stretching on into the gloom. It smelt like aged oak and dust and alcohol, which was somewhat calming to Arthur’s nerves.

‘Why would I?’ said Gwendoline, scowling. She had to stand quite close to him to stay within the torchlight, and she was clearly unhappy about it.

‘It’s where thewinelives,’ Arthur said incredulously.

‘Oh, well,silly me,’ Gwendoline replied, wrapping her arms around herself and looking uncertainly around at the room. ‘I don’t drink. Can you hurry up and say whatever it is you want to say? It’s cold down here.’

Arthur leaned back against a barrel with practised nonchalance and considered her for a moment. She always looked pinched and irritated, but right now her face actually seemed in danger of collapsing in on itself.

‘Let’s just agree to be straight with each other,’ he said slowly. ‘Can you manage that?’

‘What do you mean?’ Gwendoline said, clearly knowing exactly what he meant.

‘You were lurking behind that wall—’

‘I wasn’tlurking.’

‘Okay, fine, you werereclining gracefully –with poise and dignity, as befits your noble house – behind that wall, spying on that woman.’

‘I was – taking some air,’ Gwendoline said too quickly, ‘and she just so happened—’

‘What is she? Lady’s maid? Scullion? Laundress?’

‘She’s aknight, actually,’ Gwendoline snapped, bristling. ‘Lady Bridget Leclair.’

Arthur bit back a laugh at her furious expression. ‘Great name.’

Gwen put a hand to her forehead and closed her eyes. She seemed to be thinking painfully hard; her effort was palpable. When she opened them again, she fixed Arthur with an extremely icy stare.

‘Whatever youbelieveyou saw,’ she said, choosing her words carefully, ‘I saw something at least ten times as … interesting. So I wouldn’t be throwing accusations around here. If I were you.’