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almost laughed. “You are drunk.”
“I don’t think so.” Her lovely arched brows drew together in an adorable expression of thought. “I’ve only had three glasses. Is that enough to get drunk?”
“You’ve had three glasses?” he asked, shocked anew.
“Not full. I know how to pour a drink, even if I don’t usually imbibe. I only poured to here.” She indicated a level that would be the equivalent to a double.
“You’ve had six shots of whiskey.”
“Oh.” She frowned. “Is that bad?”
“It depends.”
“On?”
“Why you’re drinking.”
“I learned someone I thought would never lie to me had done it my whole life, that I believed things that were no more than a fairy tale.”
That sounded all too familiar. “I am sorry to hear that.”
It was her turn to shrug, but in doing so she nearly dropped her mostly empty glass. “She said my father wasn’t a bad man.”
“She?” he heard himself prompting.
“My mom.”
“You didn’t know your father?” His life had not been the easy endeavor so many assumed of a man born to royalty, but he’d had his father.
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