“Why, lord, they all thought the betrothal would take place the next day, when my brother arrived suddenly, but instead of that, there was much talk at the house of Prince Theophanis, to which Danaë was summoned, and she came away looking like one dead, and the next day my brother brought her away to Therma. So everyone said that Milordo had refused to marry her, and they supposed it was because she had pretended to be a servant.”
“But he knew all about that!” said Prince Christodoridi, thoroughly puzzled.
“Did you know of it, then, lord? Oh, why was it?” Curiosity had led Angeliké beyond the bounds of prudence, and her father frowned.
“That is no concern of yours, girl. If he saw her at Klaustra, it was when she was passing as a servant.”
This was a bad blow to Angeliké’s theory, but a happy idea struck her. “But perhaps his parents interfered, lord. They may have thought she would have no dowry.”
“Your brother would have referred the matter to me. He knows that I should not grudge a—a reasonable sum to establish you both suitably.”
“Of course, lord, he must know. And yet—the match was broken off, and Milordo is here.”
“True. He is here,” her father repeated mechanically.
“And his parents are not here, lord.”
Prince Christodoridi looked at her sharply. “What do you mean by that, girl?”