Lady Alethea Fothergill, the woman who had so earnestly thanked Lola earlier, soon proved herself to be a delightful companion. She often lingered by Lola's side, filling the air with light conversation and laughter. They stood now in a lively circle with several other ladies, their merriment echoing softly against the grand walls.
After a while, Lola rose gracefully from her seat, smoothing the folds of her gown.
"Are you leaving, Your Highness?" one of the women asked, a note of disappointment in her voice.
Lola smiled warmly. "Yes, but I shall return shortly. I have an errand to attend to andI must see the Emperor."
The ladies cooed and exchanged playful glances, whispering behind their fans. Lola merely laughed, her cheeks flushing faintly.
"I'll be right back," she promised, making her way towards the door as the conversation resumed behind her.
As she wandered through the long, echoing corridors, Lola heard hurried footsteps and the soft calling of her name. Turning, she saw Lady Alethea hurrying after her, slightly out of breath.
"Your Grace," Alethea called again, gathering her skirts.
Lola paused, an amused smile on her lips. "What is it, Lady Alethea? Have you truly followed me all this way?"
The woman nodded, abashed. "Forgive me if I startled you, Your Grace."
"It is quite all right," Lola said kindly. "Tell me, what troubles you?"
Lady Alethea wrung her hands, her voice trembling with emotion. "My lady, it is my daughter... She is in love with the son of the Marquess of Ashbourne. But her father…" she broke off, swallowing hard, "he has promised her to an older lord, one whose wealth far outweighs his years. As her mother, I cannot bear to see her heart broken."
Tears glistened in Alethea's eyes, and Lola's heart softened at the sight.
"You may return to the gathering," Lola said after a thoughtful pause. "I shall see what can be done."
Alethea bowed gratefully, murmuring her thanks before disappearing down the hall. Lola, with a heart heavier than before, continued towards the Emperor's study, deep in thought.
Before she could knock, the announcer's voice rang out, "Her Grace, Lady Cavendish," and the doors opened to admit her.
She stepped inside, cradling a large basket filled with food, fruits, and a bottle of fresh milk.
"At this point, I am exceedingly grateful that Silas isn't the one manning the door," Lola said lightly, crossing the threshold. "That old man always seems determined to make my life difficult."
The Emperor, seated behind his massive oak desk, looked up and chuckled, setting aside a thick sheaf of documents.
"And to what do I owe this most unexpected pleasure?" Xander asked, his eyes crinkling with amusement.
Lola gave a nonchalant shrug, setting the basket down. "Noticing how you bury yourself in state work, I figured you'd hardly touched a morsel. I thought I might bring you a little sustenance."
He rose from his chair, intrigued. "Did you prepare this yourself?"
"Ah, sorry to disappoint," she said with a mock grimace. "I am woefully unskilled in the domestic arts. I was rather spoiled by my parents, you see. I excel only at maintaining my beauty and, apparently, at angering half the court."
The Emperor laughed, a warm sound that filled the room. "At least you are self-aware, Lady Cavendish."
"Indeed, my Lord," she said, grinning mischievously. "Now, shall we eat? Or would you prefer to keep admiring me from a distance?"
Xander shook his head, still smiling. "There is never a dull moment with you."
Lola curtsied playfully before uncovering the contents of the basket.
But just as she was about to pour the milk, a loud knock sounded at the door, sharp, urgent, and very much out of place.
Both Lola and the Emperor exchanged a glance, their light-hearted mood vanishing like mist in the sun.
Something had shifted. And it was not good.