Game of Courts. (#1 Nobles)

The Wanker Makes Bad Jokes.

TWO.

There was nothing Englishmen loved more than their superiority over the French-over the world.

"How was your journey?"

"Wet, filled with fish and inedible food. Oh, I almost got assaulted. Luckily, I was saved before the drunk seaman could ravish me hereby sending damaged goods to the King."

Her younger brother nodded. "Sounds like Guy."

"Indeed." they walked on the wet stinking streets of the harbour, the silence disturbed with fishmongers screaming the magnificent qualities of their merchandise to the world, the ship hands hurling and moving large impossible coils of rope- and generally, a lot of screaming was going on at once. Not an eyelid was batted at the nobleman and bedraggled woman walking alone. This was the dark side of England, it didn't matter.

She admitted grudgingly that back in France, news of her stroll with a gentleman- would reach Guy's ears. It felt good to be free. But she was no fool, England didn't mean she was free of her manipulative brother. He was still impossibly watching her, she could bet her dirty dress that someone in the throng was reporting back to him. Guy had eyes everywhere and it was irritating.

"Where is the carriage?"

"Across the street. I didn't want to risk the attention. I suspected you wouldn't appreciate the means of your arrival getting out."

"Intelligent," she commented. François smiled.

Amanda exhaled quietly as the horses pulled the carriage on the uneven road and began to think through her panic and worry. She hoped like François said, the news of her arrival-her means of arrival was yet to reach the English court. That was Guy's plan; to humiliate and disadvantage her from the start. Yet Guy forgot like he always did. He never won, in the games, she always won. And she would once again if she was able to think, damnit!

The carriage was pulled to a slow stop and the carriage door yanked open. She looked at the coachman imperiously. "I know you itch to show him how to welcome you but we have no time. Your sh-you arrived later than expected and the King does not hold court long this day. We have to hurry." François interjected before she could open her mouth.

"Is this your residence?"

"Yes. apparently, the English king is generous with his soon-to-be in-laws."

"Good to know."

"This way." a timid maidservant called. Amanda followed obediently into a room that was already prepared for her arrival. A bath was drawn and a dress hung, a yellow dress. Excellent choice, the colour favoured her fair skin-it hung low on her breast, low enough to offer an invite, high enough to hide secrets. She hoped to God that the king was curious.

++++

"Stunning. As always."

"Your flattery is always welcome," she replied dryly while he smiled brightly. "I would love to offer you more but we best be on our way." she motioned forward with her head.

They braved the ill-fated roads again, the bumps further grated on her nerves. There was no need to worry, she had trained for this half of her life, given up everything she knew on this fool's mission. She was going to be successful, thankfully, the king, she had heard, was young and irresponsible. A wanker whose mother ran the country. It would be child's play to get him to do her bidding. But the unease wasn't dispelled.

"We are here. Slip on your courtier's face and let's steal a crown eh?" her brother said while lending her a hand. "If only it were that simple," she muttered in reply. "It would be, it has to be." François sniffed.

England had a penchant for keeping her in a state of disbelief and anger. She was not a nobody that she was kept waiting this long. The king knew of her arrival, she was certain. Either he was trying to show flimsy power or somehow he was not aware. It better had be the latter as the former would place him at the wrong end of her sword in this long battle.

Finally, she was announced. She was walked by François who bowed before retreating. She settled into a deep curtsy, flashing her breasts before straightening and fixing her eyes on the foot of the throne, a sign of timidity and respect. Amanda nearly snorted. But men fell for it. She was here to make a man fall.

"Ah, the queen intended." she heard him say. "If my memory serves me right, you were written to arrive yesterday."

She heard the question in his statement and curtsied again before replying, keeping her voice low, a sign of deference. "I got lost your majesty." she blushed in embarrassment, her eyes remaining at his feet. They were big. "England is quite...large and my staff is very French. I was finally able to contact Lord Harcourt-" hoping the use of her family name would remind him she was nobility and shouldn't be interrogated like a criminal. "-who rescued us."

The court vibrated slightly in laughter. There was nothing the Englishmen liked to hear more than the incompetence of the French.

"And I believe speaking French didn't help much no?"

"Oh no, sir! I speak English fluently. But my maidservant and coachmen were adamant about being inconspicuous. They don't speak a word of English. Rightfully worried, of course, as this is a foreign land."

There was soft laughter once again. Ah, the inability of Frenchmen to understand the superior language.

He came toward her and she forced her head and eyes low till she felt warm fingers under her chin and raised her face. Amanda held tightly onto her emotions as she met the face of the wanker.

"Welcome to England." he kissed her hand and she looked away in curated bashfulness. "We have much to discuss but I shall release you to rest from your...adventures."

His eyes sparkling with humor. How amusing, even her coachman who didn't speak a word of French would do better. The court laughed, and Amanda smiled. "Thank you, my lord," she said softly as he released her.

"Gentlemen," he started with his back to her. "We must make haste. I must not keep our new guest waiting."

++

He was immediately at her side as she was being escorted towards her chambers. The said place was agog with activity, as footmen brought in her trunks and the noise deafened the ears in the wall.

"How was the first meeting?"
"Spiffin."
"Be honest." he raised a brow.
"Do I ever lie?"
"Your life is a lie"
"Thank you for the reminder, Francois."
"How was it?"
"He does not look like a wanker." she reported. "He makes bad jokes. The court indulges this wanker."

Her brother stared at her as she finished. "It's still too early to come to conclusions."
"I hope so."

"But he is attractive, no?"

"Hm." she replied.

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