By the time the morning session of court was over, Summer was starting to regret her flare of anger. The poor man could barely meet her eyes. He could barely meet her father’s eyes! He couldn’t be more clearly ashamed of himself, and her empathic sense just confirmed it.
And, too, she hadn’t given him the whole truth. Far from the whole truth, in fact, though that wasn’t likely to change any time soon. But now that the anger was passed, curiosity crept forward to take its place. Why /had/ he lied?
Well, they had been formally introduced, so time to take courage in both hands (hardly a difficult task for her), and simply … ask. With slow steps, Summer approached Humphrey. “Well met, Your Grace,” she said quietly, and offered a curtsey.
“My Lady,” Humphrey greeted her, bowing a bit, and trying hard to look nonchalant, knowing well enough how his face always betrayed him when it comes to nonchalance. For a man who preferred passion over reason, becoming nonchalant was the hardest thing to do.
“I believe your father just managed to increase his wealth on the expense of the crown, my lady. He left my brother quite speechless defending why the crown shall not receive the tax on wool.” He looked at her with a slight smirk to see, if his way of ignoring more important matters between them is working out. “He seems to be a rather talented speaker who shall take the role of spokesperson of Parliament. Maybe even I would attend in that case.”
Summer granted his diversion exactly the attention it deserved. “When needs must, he is ever eloquent. Much like you, it appears.” Her smile was as much a baring of teeth. “Though I do not think my father spills untruth in his eloquence. Will you tell me, Your Grace, why? To my shame I did not know you in the darkness and the night, yet you permitted me to compound my mistake by giving me a lie. Arteys, was it not?”
With effort, she held her voice low, but her spine was straight and her eyes flashed green anger in the light. “Perhaps I am too lowly to merit your honest attentions.”