Stephen allowed himself to bask in it.
Henry turned on him. "You are useless."
"I am doing my best, Sire."
"Have you never wooed a woman?"
"Sire," Stephen said at last, "I barely have time to woo myself."
Henry stopped pacing. Stephen, not yet understanding the full tragedy of what had left his mouth, looked at him with confusion. Henry raised a brow. "Woo yourself?"
Stephen frowned. "Yes, Sire."
"Stephen," Henry said slowly, "please tell me you are not saying what I think you are saying."
"I do not understand, Sire."
"I will give you a moment."
"A moment for what?"
"To think about it."
Stephen stared at him. Then, unwillingly, his mind returned to his own words. He heard them again, this time not as weary complaint. His face changed at once. His ears reddened first, then his throat, then every inch of visible skin above his collar.
Henry's mouth twitched. Stephen's eyes widened in shame. "There it is," Henry said, watching the realisation dawn across Stephen's face.
