the one we’re having. What are your intentions toward him?”
Wow. What was next—would her virginity come under scrutiny? Because she’d freely admit that ship sailed the freshman year of college to an earnest and very muscled hockey player during the first snowstorm of the year.
“I don’t have ‘intentions’ toward Christian.” Yes, she made finger quotes. And hoped that was something they did here and not something unutterably rude. “I have respect for him. More than you’re showing me right now.”
Abruptly, the grand duchess turned and started walking again. She pulled down a blooming branch to sniff. Squeezed a tangerine. Ran her fingers down the frond of a maidenhair fern.
After watching this for a minute, Mallory caught up. It seemed smarter to wait for the next attack than to turn and run out in a snit. And she had no doubt that there’d be a pivot, and a fresh attack.
“I’ve heard good things about you from the palace staff, Sir Evan, Sir Kai, Mathilde.”
“It’s always nice to get a good review. Helps on those mornings when I can’t get my hair to look right.” Mallory’s throat went dry. Were they actually reporting on her? Or simply having conversations, and it was the grand duchess who filed it away as intelligence to be picked over?
“You seem levelheaded. Without exception, you’re respectful. Even when I know you’re itching to call me an interfering old bat.”
Okay. Game freaking on. “Two out of the three descriptions would be true, and thus, technically, fair game. So yes, I’m tempted. But taking a shot at your mourning clothes by comparing you to a bat would simply be insensitive.”
Every line on Agathe’s face crinkled deeper, like she’d just had her cat bring her a bloody trophy. But she didn’t swipe back.
Mallory could only imagine the brunt of that anger some poor, undeserving maid would weather later as a result of swallowing it down for now.
She took a few more steps, stopped in front of something bushy and bursting with hot-pink blossoms. “We’re all aware that you’re the one keeping Kelsey on the straight and narrow. It is appreciated.”
It was a backhanded compliment. But probably Agathe’s version of an olive branch. So she gave a conciliatory smile. “We’re a team, me and Kelsey. We complement each other, but also shore up each other’s weaknesses.”
“You didn’t join our family in the usual way, but we are genuinely glad that you are a part of it now. My Serena would’ve liked you. She’d love that you’ve been not just a sister, but a best friend to Kelsey.”
In all sincerity, Mallory put a hand on the older woman’s arm. “Thank you. Truly. None of you had to allow me in the palace, let alone make me feel so welcome. Hearing that you think the queen would’ve been okay with an American upstart infiltrating her family is quite a gift.”
“But what about Christian?”
Oh, she was wily. But Mallory was stubborn. “Nope. Sorry, Your Grace, but that is between us. It’s private.”
“It is quite the opposite of private,” Agathe snapped, looking down her aristocratic beak of a nose. “If what’s between you is serious, that is. Do you not see that?”
Mallory dropped her hand, speechless.
Because deep down, of course Mallory knew.
It was why she and Christian had labeled a relationship impossible from the start. They didn’t belong together. They couldn’t stay together.
Agathe stabbed a finger in the air. “Your privacy ended the day my precious, missing Valentina was found, and you decided to accompany her to Moncriano. You forever tied yourself to Kelsey and the House of Villani with that choice. You tied that knot tighter when you returned after the shooting. Privacy is no longer an option for you. And it has never been one for my grandson.”
The words jolted into Mallory like they’d been fired from a truth cannon. It took everything she had not to reel backward under the onslaught.
On the other hand, it strengthened her resolve. She and Christian would enjoy every single day together that they possibly could. No facts, or reason, or well-meaning advice would rob them of storing up those shared moments.
Yes, one day, very soon, it would end. The day Christian made the choice to take a royal bride.
Until then? The whole world could just back the hell off.
Not that she’d blast his beloved grandmother with quite that level of, ah, fervor.
Deliberately, Mallory reached out to tug at a gardenia. She bent, sniffed it, and let its perfume take the edge off her righteous resentment. “There