“You’ve always been unfailingly kind to me, my Cam,” Gwendolyn whispered to him as her fingers briefly squeezed his. “Even, perhaps, when I am not deserving of it. It is probably your only fault.” She pulled him further to the kitchens, slipping through the servant entrance, and surprising a handmaiden so thoroughly that the poor thing gasped and dropped her handful of linens in her arms.<br/><br/>“Your Majesty!” the handmaiden squeaked, curtsying frantically as she stooped to pick up the dirtied linens. Gwendolyn smiled kindly at her in an attempt to soothe the girl’s frazzled nerves.<br/><br/>“Good evening Ayla— Sir Fitzroy has returned home to visit. Does your mother still have any pheasant stew?” Ayla quickly bustled over to the unmanned pot of stew that remained over a smoldering fire and peeked inside.<br/><br/>“Yes Your Majesty. Are you feeling well enough for supper now?”<br/><br/>Gwendolyn had refused dinner earlier— something she knew Cameron would likely admonish her for. She shot him a sidelong glance before nodding. “Yes. We’ll have it in the library.”<br/><br/>It was a hark back to lighter times— tea sandwiches and fruit in the library next to the fireplace. After Ayla nodded and set to work, the pair began the quick walk to the library. “Before you scold me for not eating, I’ll remind you that it’s<i>far</i>more difficult to eat with a corset on. It’s not like the unfettered days of my girlhood.”