Page 20 of Her Royal Houseguest

‘You intend to burn those?’ he asked.

She jolted, startled by his presence. ‘You can’t think they’re good.’

He took two steps into the room. It was as far as he could go because of the clutter. ‘I did not study them,’ he said. ‘But I saw some talent.’

She snorted, a very unladylike sound that he nevertheless found charming. It meant she was at ease with him.

‘That’s exactly what my teachers said. For years.’ She looked at him. ‘I do not have the dedication to become good. No one wants those, least of all me.’

‘It is wisdom to evaluate one’s ability clearly.’

‘Then I must be very wise.’ She leaned back against the edge of a chair. ‘We have a saying. Jack of all trades, master of none. It describes someone who knows a little bit about everything but cannot master any one task.’ She shrugged. ‘That’s me.’

He looked about him. ‘Are English women expected to master tasks?’ If so, then she was correct. She had tried many things only to abandon them when they became difficult. In Siam, a man like that would be called lazy. But she was a court lady. Surely, she wasn’t expected to know how to fashion dolls or turn yarn into cloth.

‘No, we’re not,’ she agreed.

‘And yet you think it a failing.’

She chuckled. ‘It’s not a success.’

‘That depends,’ he said as he manoeuvred around to the sketches. ‘What was your goal when you began any of these tasks?’

‘Goal?’ she asked. ‘I don’t suppose I had one except to experiment.’ She gestured at one of the sketches he held. ‘I was trying to show movement with that one. I drew one leaf, several times on top of each other. Each a little off from the first.’

He twisted the sketch, seeing how what had initially looked like a clump of lines slowly resolved into the same leaf done a dozen times, only in a slightly different place.

‘I see it. Clever.’

‘You’re the only one who has.’

‘But it is obvious now.’

‘Sure, it is,’ she drawled.

He stiffened. ‘Do you think I lie?’ That was a deep insult.

She seemed surprised by his harsh tone.

‘No, no!’ she rushed to say. ‘I think you are polite. But as you say, I’m wise to see my lack of talent.’

He set the sketches down. ‘It’s not ability that you lack.’ He scanned the room. ‘You require discipline.’ And organisation. A great deal of organisation.

She flashed him an annoyed look. ‘You overstep. Again.’

He squatted down so that he could be level with her. ‘That was not an insult. You have been taught such things. All the high-born ladies of Siam struggle with this. They flit like butterflies from one task to the next, never alighting anywhere for more than an hour or so.’

He watched as her lips pressed tight. She was angry with his words but polite enough to keep her anger inside. And even the clenched shape of her lips seemed lovely. Odd. The colours of the English body were so different than a Siamese—pink skin instead of gold, coloured eyes instead of brown and hair that curled—it intrigued him, but she drew him as no other. He found her appearance infinitely attractive.

‘I only say this because you are unhappy with yourself. Your sighs were very loud.’

‘I will be quieter.’ She looked like she wanted to scream in his face.

‘Ach, you misunderstand!’ He did not have the English words to make himself clear. ‘You are intelligent. You speak well. You know things about food that surprised even your parents. You could do very well for yourself but you need to learn to sit. To study. A worthwhile task takes great time and attention.’ He leaned towards her. ‘You must repeat that to yourself many times every day. It will help you dedicate to something worthwhile.’

Fury blazed in her eyes but she lowered her head and slowly looked to the floor. ‘Of course, Your Royal Highness. Your advice is most welcome. I will repeat it to myself every day and night, a thousand times a day. Thank you, most glorious highness.’

He rocked back on his heels, amused rather than insulted. ‘You do not hide your disdain well. Does the English prince tolerate that?’