“‘Secrets,’” he echoed. A shadow flickered across his face. “Miriam, there are things I’m not allowed to tell you, and I don’t like it, but it’s possible that—well, some of them may be seeds.”

“‘Seeds’?”

“Tests, for me, to see if I can keep secrets.” He took a mouthful of the Cabernet. “Stuff that, if I tell you, will probably make you do something predictable, so that he’ll know I told you. Do you understand? I’m not considered trustworthy. I came back with ideas about, well, about trying to change the way things are done. Ideas that upset a lot of people. The duke seems to like me—or at least think some of my ideas could be useful—but he certainly doesn’t trust me. That’s why he keeps me so close at hand.”

“Yes.” She nodded thoughtfully. Her opinion of him rose yet again: He doesn’t lie to himself. “I guessed that. Which is why I’m going to tell you what he told me and you’re just going to decide whether to confirm it if it’s true.”

“Uh, okay.” He was intensely focused on her. Good, she thought, feeling a little thrill. She slid one leg over the other, let a calf encased in sheer black stocking sneak out. The game’s afoot, she thought to herself, then noticed his response and felt her breath catch in her throat. Then again, maybe it’s not all a game.

“Okay, this is what he told me. He says I’m in an exposed position and liable to be attacked, maybe murdered, if I don’t dig myself inextricably into the Clan power structure as soon as possible. He says I have some discretion, but I ought to marry within the families and do it soon. Which I think is bullshit, but I let him lead me on. So he’s sending me to the royal court with Olga, for a formal presentation and coming-out. We leave tomorrow.” When she said tomorrow he frowned.

“There’s more.” She paused to drink, then put her empty glass down. Her stomach felt warm, relaxed. She met his eyes. “Is what he told me about expecting me to find a husband among the families what you heard?”

“Yes.” Roland nodded. “I didn’t know you were to leave tomorrow, though,” he said, sounding a little disappointed.

Miriam straightened up and leaned toward him. “Yes, well, he also discussed you,” she said. “He said he’s going to marry you off to Olga.”

“Bastard—” Roland’s raised his glass to hide his expression, then drank its contents straight down.

“What, no comment?” Miriam asked, her heart pounding. This was the critical moment—

“I’m sorry. Not your fault,” he said hoarsely. “I’d guessed he was going to try something to tie me down, but not that crude.” He shook his head frustratedly. “Stupid.” He took a deep breath, visibly struggling for control.