"You certainly know your way around here!" I said, as Georgina led us deeper into the Far East exhibit, into a room with nearly a full battalion of terra cotta soldiers.

"My family is close friends with the curator," she said, as she led me through another room of antique china and teapots, "I always begged my governess to take me here so I could learn things without having to listen to her talk,"

I laughed anew as we finally reached one of the many rooms that housed the museum's collection of paintings.

"Look, this one was always my favorite," she said, pulling me over to a smaller painting tucked in a corner. It featured a woman sitting by a window, her eyes turned towards the painter as her face turned towards the window. The window looked over a harbour, where ships dotted the water.

"She seems cheeky," I said, studying the subject. Georgina smiled up at the painting.

"She's supposedly an admiral's wife waiting for her husband to return. One of the ships in the lagoon is supposedly his," she said.

"What a boring life," I said, moving to the next picture. Georgina scoffed, still looking up at the painting.

"How can you say that! Look at her dress and her jewels! And the room she's sitting in! Clearly she wants for nothing!" she protested. I shrugged.

"And yet she's still facing the window, longing for her husband to come home. How lonely," I said, looking up at the next painting, one I recognized immediately as an interpretation of the myth of Parthimos, the man who broke so many women's hearts, the goddess of love cursed him by making him fall in love with the virginal goddess of wisdom who would never love him back. Parthimos was kneeling, pleadingly reaching up towards where the goddess of wisdom was blatantly ignoring him, focusing instead on the glowing golden scroll in her hands. On the other side of the painting were the dozen women with broken hearts reaching for Parthimos, their faces twisted in the agony of heartbreak. I made a face as I looked it over.

"I don't much like this one either, the legend is so much better in books," I said, turning to walk to the next painting, only to see someone already standing in front of it. Behind me, Gerogina let out a gasp, dropping a curtsey.

"You're not much for Hawthorne I take it?" Prince Andrew asked, watching me in amusement as I sank into a curtsey, blushing that he'd overheard me.

"Oh it's very pretty and all, but I much prefer the Parthimos I'd imagined as a girl," I said, looking back at the painting over my shoulder. In the painting, he had long, curly hair and wore a toga as I'm sure was the custom in the time of the myth itself. In my head, however, I always pictured him a a foppish duke with a gaggle of frilly ladies pining over him.

"I'll admit I've never heard anyone describe Hawthorne's work as 'very pretty'," Andrew grinned.

"What can I say, your Highness? I tend to prefer my own imagination to art," I shrugged, fighting my own smile.

"So you'd prefer books over paintings?" he persisted, knotting his hands behind his back. When I nodded, he glanced at the painting he was standing in front of.

"In that case, I'm curious. What are your thoughts on this one?" he said, gesturing to the painting that dominated the wall before him.

I came to stand in front of it, dramatically pressing a fist to my mouth as I looked it over. Georgina stifled a giggle from where she was still hovering near the painting of the admiral's wife. The painting before me now was of a great feast, a king and queen at the center of the table with various attendants around them. I ran my eyes over the painting, studying it. I was sure I'd heard one of my arts mistresses talking of it before, but I couldn't for the life of me remember who painted it or what it was supposed to be.

"The dog is very well done," I said finally, into the relative silence of the room. There was a beat of silence before Andrew started to laugh.

"Of all the things to mention about Grondin's Imperial Feast, you choose the dog?" he managed, as I glanced over at him with a grin as I shrugged.

"He is very well done, look at how detailed his fur is!" I said. Andrew continued to laugh and I continued to smile when someone darted into the room from the opposite end.

"Well there you are!" Ashley sang, sailing over to us to wrap her gloved hands around Andrew's arm. There was nothing but venom in her eyes as she smiled at me.

"What seems to be so funny?" she asked, glancing up at the painting as her ladies in waiting followed behind her, the chatter of the approaching nobles echoing through the room.

"We were admiring Grondin's artistic rendering of dogs," Andrew said, his eyes twinkling as he looked at me. One of Ashley's lovely eyebrows lifted, her lips curling briefly into a sneer.

"Indeed," she managed through her forced grin, before she turned in earnest to the prince, "I was hoping you could show me the Far East exhibit, I've heard the jewelry collection is simply wonderful,"

"Of course," Andrew said, Ashley filling the room with her delighted laughter before he could say another word. She not-so subtly pulled him away as I sank into a curtsey. He shot me another wink as Ashley prattled on about jade and opals. By the time I had risen from my curtsey, the room had been flooded with debutantes and their ladies, the idle chatter filling the once pleasant silence.

"They weren't lying when they said he liked you," Georgina whispered as she came up next to me. I rolled my eyes but couldn't help the smile on my face.

"Not like that," I laughed, "I'm probably one of the few courtiers that treats him like a human being!"

"Well whatever it is you're doing, you should watch your step," she said, drawing me against the current of young ladies until we were once more in a quieter corner of the museum, "It's not a good idea to taunt Ashley,"

"I'm not afraid of her," I replied, shrugging off her warning, but Georgina would have none of it. She took me by the shoulders, forcing me to face her.

"I mean it, Libby," she said, forcing me to look her in the eye, "She is absolutely ruthless and she's determined to win,"

"He's not a prize to be won!" I protested, "He's a person!"

"He's a prince!" Georgina fired back, "And you are Ella's lady in waiting,"

"Are you telling me to remember my place?" I asked, squarely meeting her gaze. Georgina let go of my shoulders with a sigh.

"I'm only trying to warn you that flirting with-"

"I wasn't flirting with him!" I interrupted.

"Fine, befriending him then," she corrected with an irritated look, "It will only land you in trouble. There are plenty of other men to 'befriend', ones that won't make you a target for girls like Ashley,"

"Thank you, Georgina," I said stiffly, annoyed that she'd lecture me so, "I should probably go find my cousin,"

She didn't say anything as I gathered my skirts and tried not to storm off towards the Egyptian display, only slowing my steps and plastering a smile on my face when I came upon Ella and James, still very much enamoured in conversation. Rosanna and Emily were trailing them, Rosanna looking thoroughly pleased while Emily looked thoroughly bored. I fell in wordlessly beside them, smiling as best I could to hide my displeasure.

I knew that my best choice was to stay away from the prince, especially since even Audra had mentioned that my name was getting around as gossip. It was only a matter of time before Ella heard about our interaction in front of Grondin's painting and I was already only newly off thin ice thanks to Andrew spending so much time with her last night at the ball. I needed to tread carefully so she wouldn't be tempted to send me home, especially now that most of the girls seemed to know my name and not just that I was Ella's cousin the gangly redhead.

Chewing my lip, I cast a look around the room while James pointed out a rather elegant beaded necklace to Ella. Emily was shifting on her feet next to me, clearly bored to tears, while Rosanna politely cooed over the necklace when Ella beckoned her forward. As I looked over a wall of sarcophagi, my eyes landed on buck-toothed Oliver Pendleton and his sour-faced brother Martin, who was escorting homely Harriet Smith into the painting gallery just ahead of us. Oliver caught my eye with a smile, which I returned.

Right then and there I decided that Georgina was right. There were plenty of other young men that would make suitable friends without attracting the wrong kind of attention or risking my expulsion from the Season.