Kivrin shot the prince a look that said his presence was less than welcome. “Don’t you have the holiday off?”

“We do, but circumstances dictated this being necessary.”

She was purposely opaque about her answer. But he nodded as if he knew all about her probation. He liked to stick his nose in her business. So, he probably did know.

“Though March seemed upset that we were leaving Belcourt,” she said.

“Ah, did he?”

“Indeed.” She felt the yellow diamond that she’d transferred into her pocket like a brand. “He said that he would be writing to you about coming to visit for courting.”

Kivrin arched an eyebrow. “We’d be honored, wouldn’t we?”

“Honored,” she said dryly.

“Well,” Kivrin said, clapping his hands together, “I’m sure you’ve had a hard day of travel and would prefer to change into something more suitable for the luncheon.”

“We have training. We won’t be stopping until evening.”

“Dinner then,” he said.

“Unfortunately, no. The hospitality is appreciated but unnecessary,” she said. “We’ll make do as we train.”

Kivrin showed no outward sign of displeasure at the words and just nodded. “Very well. Kerrigan, may I have a word in private?”

Warby teetered back and forth. “I can show Master Fordham to his room.”

Kerrigan winced and glanced at Fordham. “Do you mind?”

“Not at all.”

She nodded at him and then followed her father through Waisley. Her feet carried her through the grand house by memory. He opened a side door, leading to his study. A giant desk and three walls of books took up the majority of the room. The fourth wall was a row of windows that opened to the gardens beyond. It smelled of ink and parchment and the particular softness she’d only ever associated with Waisley.

“I didn’t think I’d ever see you here again,” Kivrin said when the door closed behind her.

“I didn’t think I’d ever come back.”

“It suits you.”

She shrugged. The house had seemed to warm at her first step through the door. As if it remembered and welcomed her.

“What made you change your mind?”

“March,” she said simply. “It was the only way I could think to avoid him.”

He nodded. “Ah.”

“Did you discover what to do about that? You said you’d look into it. What did you find?”

He leaned back against his mahogany desk, crossing his arms over the navy-blue doublet, and stared back at his daughter. The playboy prince and the lost princess. They were quite a pair. “Not much.”

She huffed. “I’m telling him at the Season party that it’s over. Is there no recourse?”

“You can call it off, but you would be in breach of contract. If he wanted to, he could sue you… us.” He sighed. “He could come after the estate for it.”

“After Waisley?”