For a moment, I think he means to tell me that I'm not unbecoming, only to realize he speaks of my father more than of me. In the distance, Thomas makes Lady d'Arbois laugh again and the sound roils in my stomach. I remember Tobias, who called me striking, who could make me smile, sent off to the regiment by his father.

My hand tightens around the spoon and it hits me then, that if I do nothing, this life of tepid politeness will cage me until I die. It's desperation that makes my tongue sharp even as I lower my voice to speak.

"I'm sure your library is of an excellent quality, my lord," I say. "It will keep me occupied for days while you arrange to see whomever it is you really love."