‘Thank you. I would.’

She followed him to Daniel, who watched her approach. She sank into a curtsey, but unlike the other women, who lowered their heads, Lizzie curtseyed with her head up, eyes meeting his in direct challenge. He nodded slightly in her direction, before extending his arm. She took it and he led her onto the floor for the waltz.

He was a good dancer, every step correct, but his body was tense. By contrast, Lizzie danced like liquid, gliding this way and that in his arms.

‘I’m glad you were able to accept at such short notice,’ he said.

Lizzie made the appropriate speech about being honoured before saying, ‘I wonder how Your Majesty knew where to send the invitation.’

‘I had you investigated,’ he informed her calmly, ‘and discovered you to be a historian, as you said. I gather you’ve written many letters to the Information Office in Voltavia.’

‘Yes, and I’ve got nowhere. They just brush me off. But I am serious.’

‘So I understand. The list of your degrees and professorships is impressive-and alarming.’

‘There’s no need for Your Majesty to be alarmed,’ she said demurely. ‘I don’t bite.’

‘But you do pursue. When you contrived to get yourself a place at the press reception-oh, yes, I know that too-you were in pursuit, were you not?’

‘That’s right.’

‘And I was the prey?’

‘Naturally. I only pursue the big bears. They’re the most rewarding.’

He looked down at her with a faint, curious smile. ‘And do you think you’ll find me “rewarding”?’

‘I’m not sure yet. It depends whether you give me what I want.’

‘And is that how you judge men-by whether they give you what you want?’

Lizzie raised delicate eyebrows in well simulated surprise. ‘But of course. What other yardstick is there?’

‘Are you by any chance trying to flirt with me, Miss Boothe?’

‘Certainly not,’ she said, shocked. ‘It would be improper for any woman to flirt with the King.’