The light of the room was dim. The Lady Moaris awaited him, wearing a gauzy dressing-gown. She smiled tensely at him; she seemed ill-at-ease.
"Would I do otherwise?"
"I—wasn't sure. I'm not in the habit of doing things like this."
Herndon repressed a cynical smile. Such innocence was touching, but highly improbable. He said nothing, and she went on: "I was caught by your face—something harsh and terrible about it struck me. I had to send for you, to know you better."
Ironically Herndon said, "I feel honored. I hadn't expected such an invitation."
"You won't—think it's cheap of me, will you?" she said plaintively. It was hardly the thing Herndon expected from the lips of the noble Lady Moaris. But, as he stared at her slim body revealed beneath the filmy robe, he understood that she might not be so noble after all once the gaudy pretense was stripped away. He saw her as perhaps she truly was: a young girl of great loveliness, married to a domineering nobleman who valued her only for her use in public display. It might explain this bedchamber summons to a Second Steward.
He took her hand. "This is the height of my ambitions, milady. Beyond this room, where can I go?"
But it was empty flattery he spoke. He darkened the room illumination exultantly. With your conquest, Lady Moaris, he thought, do I begin the conquest of the Seigneur Krellig!
CHAPTER IV