Page 30 of The Favourite

“Morning fog?” Jane enquired, accepting a cup of ale.

“He retires every evening with a full wineskin, by all accounts,” he replied, lifting his own cup. “It is fully depleted on the morn.”

Jane tried not to look disapproving but likely failed in the endeavor. She did not believe her uncle had always overindulged in such a manner, but perhaps she had been too young when she lived in his household to recognize the symptoms?

“I have told the cook, that instead of roasted mutton and venison, Sir Phillip should be served on rising with raw eel and ground almonds. That is a most efficacious remedy, or so I have heard,” he continued thoughtfully.

Jane almost choked on her drink. “Indeed?” she asked as soon as she was able. “And have you ever tried this remedy yourself?”

“Certainly not,” he answered piously. “I have never suffered from morning fog above twice in my life.”

Jane regarded him doubtfully, but after all, she did not think she had ever heard it whispered that Viscount Bardulf was a drunkard. Then again, she had always prided herself on never encouraging scurrilous gossip.

Now she found herself wishing that she had paid more attention to his reputation. She had always felt so secure in her conviction that Viscount Bardulf was naught but a frippery, vapid courtier. Now she had a terrible suspicion that something much darker lurked beneath his glittering facade.

“You look troubled, Jane,” he commented, setting down his ale. “Come tell me, what vexes you?”

“Nothing, my lord,” she assured him hastily as a dish of stewed herrings appeared at her elbow, followed by a platter of what looked like smoked lampreys. She regarded both queasily before looking back at her husband.

“Have some bread and butter,” he suggested instead. “Have you any fruit syrups or honey?” he asked, raising his voice for their server. “If so, bring them out. If not, have the cook procure some.”

“Aye, milord,” the fellow muttered before retreating. When he reappeared, he bore a look of long-suffering and a bowl of apricots preserved in a sweet syrup of dates.

Alisander spooned half of them onto her plate and then half onto his own. “Remove the fish,” he requested when the servant started to withdraw. “We’ll none of them.”

The servant snatched them up and Alisander started buttering some bread. “You have a fondness for sweet things, I find,” he commented thoughtfully as Jane tucked into her apricots. “I had not heard that about you.”

Jane lowered her spoon. “Well, why should you?” she asked. “It is hardly a point of interest, after all.”

“I disagree, though, I do not know if that is simply because I find the subject singularly intriguing,” he debated, tipping his head to one side.

Jane swallowed her apricot with effort. “You are pleased to amuse yourself,” she said after clearing her throat.

He shrugged and leaned forward to place a slice of buttered bread beside her. “I think I want to know everything about you, Jane,” he said slowly. “Tell me honestly, will you find it taxing to indulge me in this?”

Jane cut the large piece of bread in half. “I think you would soon tire of the subject.”

“Let us find out,” he suggested bracingly. “Till then, you can answer three questions about yourself at breakfast, and another three before bed, until my curiosity wanes. What say you?”

Jane’s eyes widened with alarm. “That I would prefer to simply present the facts, rather than be interrogated.”

He clicked his tongue with disapproval. “Very well, you will have the chance to do so, but if you fail to think of three, then I can question you instead.”

Jane lowered her knife. “If you insist,” she conceded grimly, “but in return, I must beg the same favor.”

His eyes gleamed. “Well, this is encouraging,” he said, smiling to himself as he buttered himself some bread. “I had no idea you were similarly afflicted.”

Instead of letting his words ruffle her, Jane took a deep breath. “I only ever had one sibling; I was born at my grandmother’s house in Fulford, and my father died when I numbered some two years of age.”

He paused with his cup halfway to his mouth. “So frank in the matter of your origins, Jane,” he said sarcastically. “I will respond in kind. I too, only ever had one sibling. I was born at my father’s house in the province of Gerlaise, and he died before I reached my fifth year. Now why do you look so startled?”

“One sibling?”

“This surprises you?”

Jane poked her apricots with a spoon. They were, in fact, far too sweet for her taste. “No, I suppose not,” she said slowly. To her surprise, she found she wanted to ask him where his sibling was now and if they were close. Shooting a look at him, she found him watching her, a knowing smile playing about his lips. “You had prior awareness of my sister,” she said defensively.

“Yes, I suppose that is true. Very well, you can ask me one further question”—he held up a finger—“about said sibling. Choose wisely.”