Page 98 of The Favourite

Wat had frozen at the mention of his original employer and now turned crimson. “My lord, I-I hardly know what to say,” he uttered after a moment.

“Why say anything at all? Why can we not simply carry on as we are for the next twenty or thirty years?”

Wat’s jaw dropped slightly. You mean—? You cannot mean—?”

“That your position with me is a safe one?” Alisander shrugged. “Why should I not? You are a discreet, efficient fellow, entirely to be relied upon.”

Wat hung his head. “Not entirely, my lord,” he said hoarsely.

Alisander tutted. He had tried his best to prevent frank discussion, but it seemed Wat would not be reassured with anything less. “Wat,” he said patiently, “try to look at this way. I have never performed any office in front of you that I would not wish you to report back to Lord Vawdrey and I never will.”

Wat started violently at the mention of the King’s spymaster. “My lord—” he cried in protest. “I never said—!”

“Now, now, you were the one who insisted on plain speech,” Alisander pointed out briskly. “You would not let me skirt politely around the issue, so now you must deal with the consequences.”

Wat sank down into a nearby seat looking rather green and shaken. He passed a hand over his brow and gulped, “Yes, my lord.”

“I neither desire nor require a confession from you,” Alisander continued steadily. “Indeed, I would go to great lengths to prevent such a thing from ever occurring.” He shuddered slightly. “It would, I imagine, be a most uncomfortable experience for the both of us.”

The ghost of a smile touched Wat’s pale lips. “You are generous, my lord.”

“It is easy to be generous to someone who makes one’s life easier.” Wat made a dismissive gesture and opened his mouth as though to disagree. “It is true,” Alisander insisted gently. “Quite apart from your endless procession of errands and the masterly way in which you run my household, it is very useful to me that a certain person”—he refrained from mentioning Vawdrey’s name after Wat’s agitated response, but the other man still stiffened—“should have an account of my daily actions so that he may be assured they are entirely blameless.”

Alisander stood from his seat and walked over to the mantelpiece, whereon he placed a hand and struck a proprietary stance. “I am not a native of this land and it is not reasonable to expect that I should remain here unmonitored. Not in the light of my continued association with a foreign power. Naturally, certain quarters require reassurance that I am not up to anything nefarious. This is not a problem to me. Indeed, I view it almost as a safeguard at this point.” Wat remained silent, though, from his heavy frown, Alisander deduced he was considering every word furiously.

“You have become uneasy in your conscience, Wat, but let me assure you that you have no need for such scruples. I should not wish you to change a single thing about the way you perform your duties, to either of your masters,” he finished with a quirk of his lips and saw Wat’s color deepen.

“My lord—” he muttered feebly.

“My only stipulation is that you refrain from raising this subject with me ever again,” Alisander said, faking a smothered yawn. “For I grow heartily weary of it, and I think we have exhausted it as a topic of conversation for the future.”

Wat looked torn. “But my lord, what if—?”

“What if what, Wat?” Alisander asked humorously. The servant did not so much as crack a smile.

“What if I should ever suspect my information on you is incriminating?” he asked, practically wringing his hands.

Alisander gave a twisted smile. “My dear Wat,” he drawled, “you may rest assured that if I allowed you to discover it, then it is not remotely incriminating.” He frowned suddenly as a displeasing thought occurred to him. “Though, I must caution you against becoming reticent with Lord Vaw—” He broke off. “—with your other employer,” he amended swiftly. “He will certainly know if you start withholding information from him and the only result would be him enlisting yet another informant which might make my life more difficult.”

Wat looked perplexed. “You mean, you genuinely want me to—”

“To continue as you have been, yes,” Alisander concluded nodding.

“I—my lord, I hardly know what to say,” Wat admitted.

Alisander spread his hands. “There is not really anything left to say, now is there?”

Wat cleared his throat. “I suppose not, my lord.”

Alisander smiled approvingly. “Carry on Wat. Carry on.”

He gave only the most perfunctory of knocks on the door before walking into their bedchamber. Jane was seated in front of the looking glass while a young woman removed hairpins from her neatly braided hair. It had been arranged most artfully in loops around a plain gold circlet. He guessed this was a new look they were trying out.

Jane met his eyes in the mirror. “Good evening, my lord,” she said, clearing her throat. “This is Marta, who has been helping me this afternoon with my new gowns.” He spared the girl a glance and a nod before returning his attention to Jane, who was starting to look flustered. “What do you think of this one?” she asked haltingly. “I mean to wear it upon the morrow.”

“I can’t really see it while you remain seated,” he prevaricated. “I like your hair like that, though.”

Jane stood up and faced him, and he paused to get the full effect. The blue-gray of the fabric suited her well and the cut was unusual enough to draw the eye with its elaborate sleeves and high neckline. Clearly, he took too long scrutinizing, for Jane started to color and turn self-conscious. “I think Monsieur Barbier made rather a nice job of the beading,” she said, smoothing down her bodice, which was heavily decorated.