“And you?” Maxi shattered the moment, and Elisabeth jumped in her seat, turning toward him. “Which sister are you? The boring one or the naughty one?”

Elisabeth raised an eyebrow at the rogue, touching her face lightly with the soft yellow feathers of the fan. It wasn’t the kind of question you asked at a formal lunch, but he clearly wasn’t the kind of person for formal lunches. And if she was being honest, neither was she.

“What do you think?” Elisabeth threw the question back.

His eyes sparkled now with recognition. “I thought as much.”

She set the fan down, smiling despite herself.

“And your sister”—he glanced at the other table, as conspiratorial as she’d been with Luzi moments ago—“is she the right one for my brother?”

Elisabeth held Maxi’s gaze. “Seems like something we should let His Majesty decide. And my sister, of course.”

“Ah, but you see, I have to sign off on all potential brides.”

Elisabeth laughed, shook her head. “Sounds like an important task.”

“It is.” Maxi leaned back in his chair, smirking. “I think you’re the one to marry, though.”

Elisabeth’s heart leapt to her throat. Had Maxi seen her looking at Franz? Had Franz said something to him? He couldn’t have. They’d only spoken the once, only about a bird, only about her hiding in a garden—

“I beg your pardon?”

“Well, you’ll never become fat. I can deduce it from your wrists.”

Elisabeth couldn’t decide if the answer was a relief or an annoyance. He hadn’t seen her staring at her sister’s intended. But fixating on her wrists, considering how her appearance might change over the years … Was that what mattered in a wife—that she not get fat? Never mind if she was kind or smart or cared about people or loved her husband. What a thing to care about.

Elisabeth removed her hands from the table.

Maxi continued, oblivious. “With her”—he pointed at Francesca with his fork, who startled beside him at the sudden action—“it’s different. I need to make sure I get away before it’s too late.”

Elisabeth stared. It was one thing to be cheeky, another to be cruel.

“Don’t worry,” Maxi said, misinterpreting her expression, “she can’t understand us.”

He smiled at Francesca, who was glancing quickly between the two of them.

“You look beautiful,” he said in Italian.

“Grazie,” she replied, happy.

Maxi leaned over and pretended to bite her neck suggestively. She giggled, leaned back. Elisabeth turned her head away, reminded unpleasantly of her father. Such rakish behavior didn’t require a witness.

The attendants started serving the cake. Beside Elisabeth, Luzi adjusted his doll’s elaborate hat and forked a small piece of cake toward her pretty, rose-petal mouth. Elisabeth smiled, glad to turn her attention away from Maxi.