Page 52 of The Favourite

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For all his assurances, Jane was tense as they passed along the woodland track. Alisander supposed he would have to distract her somehow. Sadly, they were not at the point where he could do so with kisses. He was just casting about for some topic of conversation when she spoke up of her own accord.

“Is this how you would usually conduct yourself with your mistress?” she asked in a stifled voice. “Only, I am not sure this stratagem of yours will prove at all effective with a wife.”

He was silent a moment. “Why not?”

“The trouble, my lord, is that I know nothing about mistresses. I would not know how to respond in kind.”

Well, this was worth pursuing. He decided to give her a verbal shove and see how she responded. “That seems strange,” he replied, “considering the role your own sister played as likely the most foremost paramour in all the land.”

Jane’s cheeks flamed red, and he thought for a moment she would spring from the seat. A smile curved his lips. She was ridiculously sensitive about her sister being the King’s mistress. It was absurd. Most noble families boasted of such things almost as a badge of honor.

“You imagine that she was taught the craft from an early age?” Jane asked instead with a dangerous sort of calm which intrigued him greatly. “Perhaps at our mother’s knee?”

“Your mother’s? No, by all accounts your uncle, Sir Phillip Cecil, who had her tutored for the role.”

He watched the red trickle from Jane’s face until she looked entirely pale. “Is that—?” She broke off looking stricken.

“Common knowledge?” he supplied. She gave a jerky nod, her eyes fixed on his face. “In court circles, yes,” he admitted. “Was it meant to be a secret?”

Her eyes flashed a moment, and he caught his breath. Was Jane about to lose her famous composure? Then her eyelids dropped, hiding her expression, and she gave a tight smile. “Well,” she said shortly, “if that was the case, then he soon realized that I was ill-suited for such purposes and so should you!”

Alisander snorted. “What nonsense! You rose through the ranks as swiftly as your sister, after all. If she was the King’s favorite, then were you not the Queen’s?”

“You are also a favorite of the Queen’s,” she responded shortly. “She has many, I find, these days.”

He had to suppress his smile. Another sore spot. He already knew that Jane was jealous of others encroaching on her spot, but this was practically an outright admission of the fact. “And do you imagine that your sister had a monopoly on Wymer’s attentions?” he asked softly.

Jane shook her head. “I know nothing of the King’s love affairs,” she answered with a curl of her lip, “and care even less.”

“And therein lies the reason your uncle focused on your sister’s success,” Alisander concluded swiftly. “You simply would not apply yourself.”

Jane opened her mouth on a retort she disappointingly did not voice. Instead, those little white teeth of hers clicked together as she averted her face. It did not really matter, for he already knew what she had been about to say.

Instead of letting the matter drop, Alisander stretched out further on the seat, taking up even more of her space. Jane pressed her lips together but declined to comment. “But what other reason could there be?” He paused as though to consider and thought she gritted her teeth slightly. “You are very good at pandering to the royal ego, so that would not be a barrier to success.”

Jane let out a little gasp. “What do you mean by that?” she demanded, turning her head sharply.

Ah, now he had her again. “Why merely that you flatter and abet the Queen to a degree that most monarchs would find agreeable,” he answered innocently, “and practically all men would enjoy.”

“I do not—” She broke off a moment to catch her breath. “I do not flatter the Queen to curry favor with her,” Jane protested hotly. “I merely let my actions show how greatly I esteem and admire Her Majesty!”

He did not trouble to hide the smile that curved his lips. “So sincere,” he murmured. “I meant no insult. I was merely observing that you possess precisely the instrument to please most men. Namely a pretty tongue. Now, why don’t you try turning it on me? I assure you I will be most receptive to it.”

Jane looked frankly astonished by his words. She blinked at him a moment before rallying. “It is not a pretty tongue that most men appreciate,” she argued feebly, “but a pretty face!”

“That goes without saying,” he agreed with another of his shrugs. “But as you are in possession of both, I fail to see why you should cavil at this point.” Jane’s mouth dropped open. “Now, where’s my compliment? The longer you make me wait, the more extravagant I shall expect it to be.”

“C-compliment?”

He nodded and cast her a sly look. “Of course, if you cannot think of one, I can find another way for you to employ that pretty tongue of yours. One I should like just as well.”

Jane blushed a deeper red. “I don’t—that is, you are vastly elegant, my lord,” she blurted, clearly making a great effort.

“Why, so I am,” he agreed. “Was that not easy? Mayhap we should pay one another three compliments at breakfast, instead of plain statement of facts.”

“We did not actually do that this morning,” she pointed out.