One of the friendlier guards, Tristan, stood outside, his helmet under his arm, his ginger hair a mess. Emry had often seen him in the yard, trying to match pace with Lance during laps.

“I didn’t realize Gawain—” she began, wondering when he’d started stationing guards outside his door.

“I’m only here to run an errand,” Tristan confessed. “Actually, I volunteered. There’s a very impatient, very pretty French girl at the servants’ entrance, asking for Madame’s gown back.” Tristan gave her a conspiratorial wink. “Anyway, go on in.”

Emry made a face. If she was going to interrupt Gawain in flagrante, she might as well get it over with.

“Thanks,” she said, pushing open the door.

“You can set the coffee on the table,” Gawain said grandly, and Emry snorted.

“I’m not your breakfast,” she called.

“A pity. I’m starving.” Gawain appeared in the doorway that led to his bedroom, knotting an absurd green silk dressing gown embroidered with acorns. “Well, don’t just stand there looking like you’re afraid to interrupt.”

“Isn’t anyone else here?” Emry frowned, taking in the table set for two.

“Do you really think I let my conquests spend the night and stay for breakfast?” He made a face at the thought.

“You’re such a rake,” she accused.

Gawain shrugged, neither accepting nor rejecting her insult.

“I believe Madame Becou is expecting her gown back,” he said, holding out a hand.

The brothel. Of course that’s where he had gotten the dress. Emry dutifully held out the bundle, shaking off the enchantment that had disguised it as laundry. Gawain gave an appreciative snort before vanishing with it into the hallway.

“So,” he said, sweeping back into the room. “That was quite a party.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Emry grumbled.

“Then you’re the only one in the kingdom,” said Gawain.

He motioned for Emry to join him as he poured himself a steaming cup of mint tea. “That breakfast is for you,” Gawain said. “Figured you’d stop by for your clothing. There was only tea, so I had to send Amilde back for coffee.”

Emry was touched that he remembered. “I can’t stay,” she said, and then she spotted the bacon and eggs and amended, “Well, I can’t stay long.”

“Nor can I,” said Gawain with a sad smile. “I’m bound for France this week. As my brother’s minder, and then back to Saint-Germain.”

“You could refuse,” Emry said.

Gawain sighed, leaning back in his chair. “My father’s right that I’m needed overseas,” he said. “Besides, I’d prefer not to watch the whole castle get swept up in my cousin’s wedding preparations.”

“You don’t have to rub it in,” she said, angrily chewing a piece of bacon.