Nameless

Celia blinked as she recalled a minor scandal from about three or four years ago. Three of her mother's ladies-in-waiting had dissolved into angry screams and accusations when they'd discovered they'd all been secret mistresses of Viscount Nadrim for several months.

Her mother had had no patience for such quarrels, of course. Princess Violet had berated the three women harshly for fighting like cats in heat, in her rooms. The crying, puffy faced ladies had all eventually turned quiet after the threat of being banished from court in disgrace.

Celia had just watched the whole quarrel, fascinated. She'd always been aware that there were many things going on at court that she'd no idea about. But this was the first time something scandalous had been openly discussed in front of her.

Her first thought back then had been, what kind of man has the cunning - and the energy! - to juggle three secret mistresses at once, without being caught for so long?

Lucas's father, apparently.

The young man gave Celia a thin smile. "The faraway look on your face, Princess, makes me think you're recalling something scandalous my dear Papa has done at some point. Am I right?"

Celia felt herself blush. Were her thoughts really that obvious? "I mean, well…I just had no idea the viscount had a son." she said lamely. No one had ever mentioned any children.

Lucas rolled his eyes. "I think what you're trying to say very delicately, is you can't believe such a rogue of a man has a wife and family?"

"Yes but-" Celia stopped as his words sunk in and caused her eyes to almost bulge out of their sockets. "I'm sorry, but did you just say has a wife? Has? As in your father is still married?"

Celia had always assumed the debonair ambassador was a widower. But if he wasn't…

Then where the hell had his wife been all those years he'd been fornicating his way through the Islian court?

"Yes, my father is still married." Lucas grimaced.

"So where's your mother in all of this?"

"Mother lives here, in a manor house a few miles from the palace. She prefers the quiet to the noise and gossip mongering of court life. I try to visit her when I can."

"She didn't accompany your father on his Islian post, then?" Celia asked. She remembered the viscount being around for several years. Wouldn't a couple want to avoid being apart for so long?

"No, she didn't." A stormy look crossed Lucas's face. "Mother knows the kind of man she'd wedded to, and she wants no part in his way of life. She's never wished to join him at his various postings. And let's just say Papa also prefers to live his days, ah, unhindered by the daily presence of a wife."

"I see. And where's your father now? I don't remember seeing him since I arrived here."

"He's been in the Kingdom of Tyre for almost two years now, I'd say. Lord knows how he fills his days over there."

Celia nodded faintly and looked down at the floor. How had she ended up in such a cringeworthy conversation with a complete stranger?

Lucas smiled down at her again, his previous hard expression melting away. "Apologies for making you so uncomfortable, Your Grace. I should know better than to air my family's questionable past actions in your presence. It's not a conversation topic for a great lady."

"Never mind that. I mean, it's quite alright!" Celia hurried to say. "Every family has its secrets, doesn't it?"

"Yes, I suppose you're right." Lucas gave her a lopsided grin and it made her heart beat a little faster. "Sometimes I'm sure my own line takes the prize for the most scandalous. I can only hope that as you say, there are worse behaved families out there."

"Oh, I'm very sure of it. Without a doubt." Celia said with far more confidence than she felt. Partly because she was sure there was plenty about the Devon's history than what she knew.

But mostly because she was desperate to sound mature and knowledgeable and sophisticated, especially to such an attractive young man. She didn't know him at all, but that didn't stop her from wanting him to not treat her like a child.

Or worse, like an ignorant, useless girl who only had one purpose in life - to shut her mouth, spread her legs and find herself pregnant as quickly and as often as possible.

"I don't know much about your family, but I'm sure it has an interesting history also?" Lucas said. "I know Papa has talked about how much he enjoyed his years in Islia, and he quite admired King Edward's approach to ruling."

Celia couldn't help but smile at the mention of her grandfather. She knew most people feared the hard faced old man, but she remembered how'd he'd always snuck her candied fruit between meals when her mother wasn't around.

Suddenly, her eyes filled with unexpected tears at the thought of the comforts of home. Celia tried to blink them away in horror.

Mature and sophisticated, but still almost cries at the briefest mention of her family? Very well done, Celia, she chided herself. You can now add this man to the long list of Haviettenese who think of you as a silly creature.

Lucas stared down at her, a thoughtful look on his face. "You must miss your kin very much."

Celia swallowed and straightened her shoulders. "It's best we don't speak about them."

"Why not? It seems like you're close to them."

"Because it does me no good here!" Celia snapped, then tried to speak more calmly. "I know how unpopular I am here already. Do you really think me looking homesick for my foreign family is going to make my situation better?"

Lucas crossed his arms and leaned one shoulder against the corridor wall as he mulled over her words. "If it weren't for your foreign family, as you call them, I don't think you'd be here. It's not like His Majesty picked you as his heir's wife because you're a nameless nobody, is it?"

"I suppose not…"

"Then why do you feel like you shouldn't talk about your kin? They're one of the benefits you bring to the House of Tralhamir."

At that, Celia gave a hiccup of sad laughter. "You're wrong about that, sir. I know, because I've been told a great many times, that I bring nothing beneficial to this country."