“I understand you now, Madame.”
He gave her an extraordinary look, the meaning of which was beyond her.
“I never doubted your intelligence, Prince—and you did right to be cautious; but now I think we may speak more plainly.”
“M. de Pomponne hath hinted at this, Madame.”
“I do more than hint.”
The dance music floated in from the Truce Saloon, and the Duchess’ waving fan kept time to the slow melody.
“You have but to let His Majesty know your sentiments,” she urged.
William sat still, leaning against the arm of the settee, his right hand resting lightly on his breast.
His grey-green eyes were dark with feeling, and the flush still lingered in his cheeks. She was satisfied that she had touched him, and touched him deeply.