Another living gift? His family wants to spy on me, as well. I force my expression to remain pleasant. How am I to handle two spies? Three if you count Cynthia.
A thought hits me. “Wait, what's a lady's maid?”
“She'll basically do what Phyllis has been doing. It's what we call them in Envado.”
“What will happen to Phyllis?”
“I'll send her to the kitchens with a note of apology to your Father. We can't refuse a gift from my family, it would be rude, and you've been able to use Phyllis for a little while at least. Unless you'd like to keep her?”
Keep her? I'm ready to load her in a carriage. “No, that will be fine.”
Chancellor Zade shifts toward me. Closer than he's been since my branding. “I think it's important to tell you, that while Waverly's condition of being here is a gift, she agreed to it and will be paid for her services.”
“She's not working off a debt then?”
“No debt.”
“That's different. It's—” How do I feel about this? I suppose it's rather like paying Katherine for making a dress. What if I could work to pay her? Have my own money? Silently, I laugh. An engaged woman never works. Only singles and tarnished. And a woman like me isn't supposed to have money. “It's good.”
Chancellor Zade relaxes against the sofa. “I was hoping you'd think so. She won't pose the same problems as Phyllis.”
That isn't certain. “A warlock could still make her do or say what he wanted.”
“She's an Envadi. Things are different for her than they are for you.”
“But if a warlock casts a spell upon her, she wouldn't have a choice.”
He takes my hand. It's big and strong. It's harder to think with him touching me, even through a glove. I don't know if I want him to let me go or take hold of my other hand, as well. “Don't worry about it. Like I said, she's different. She can take care of herself.”
No woman can do that. The Chancellor wraps his other hand around ours. “You can trust her. With anything.”
“Except things I want to keep from you.” After the words leave my mouth, I flinch. I want to go back in time and clamp my lips shut. Stop those words from escaping. But it's too late.
He raises an eyebrow. “You have secrets you want to keep from me?”
I swallow.
He gives my hand a squeeze. “I have secrets, too. We all do. I give you my word she's trustworthy and that I have not and will not force her to reveal anything to me you haven't given her permission to do so.”
I hold his gaze. My throat tightens.
“I know you won't be comfortable with it, but you can trust her,” Chancellor Zade says. He looks at the clock. “Phyllis will be coming by soon.” He squirms. “There's one favor I, uh, wanted to ask of you.”
I cock my head toward him, curious about his change in behavior and wondering what he could possibly ask of me.
“It seems that most engaged men are more, uh, amorous with their future wives. I haven't wanted to—I don't want—” He glances away before looking me straight in the eye. “Phyllis reports to your Father. I wondered if we might show her something favorable to report.”
“What type of something?”
“I'd like to be kissing you when she comes in.”
This is wrong. He's sort of doing what I first suspected, but not even close to how I suspected it. “Why are you asking? Warlocks always take what they want.”
A light pink fills his cheeks. Is he—? He's blushing. It's strange for him to have the bit of color. I didn't know men could do that.
“Envadi aren't as aggressive with their kisses.”
I realize my hand is still in his. It's warm. Too warm. I withdraw. “I see.” I fold my arms then unfold them and place them in my lap. “Why did you want to leave this impression again?”
He pulls at the cuff of his sleeve. “It seems word has gotten around that instead of harming your virtue like everyone thought, I've been too cold and distant. They're saying you should be taken away from me and given to another.”
“And this is a problem?”
“They only way they can legally do it, is if I'm dead.”
“Oh.” Why does he not force his kisses upon me then? I still don't understand. But I'm sure I don't want to go back to Father's house. “I suppose it would be fine.”
Instead of relaxing like I expect, he looks more nervous, scratching the back of his neck. He scoots closer to me and puts an arm on the sofa behind me. I become rigid.
“Before I came here, I was engaged to a girl back home.”
The shock of the statement shoves the tension from me. “When did she die?”
He gives an unhappy chuckle. “She's perfectly alive and healthy.”
“But you can't possibly be my intended then.”
“Laws are different there. Engagements aren't as binding. We don't have a ceremony until the wedding and no contract is ever sealed. Just an agreement made, which I broke at our engagement ceremony.”
Another should have belonged to him, not me. I should be back at Father's house or owned by another. An odd pang trembles through me.