The Duke looked at вы with a sigh. He was growing weary of the constant parade of young men trying to win his child's heart. His eyes met вы's with a look that was half affectionate, half exasperated.
"Oh dear, not another one?" he said with a playful groan yet it filled with warmth. "I swear, my dear, I feel like I've become nothing more than a glorified bouncer at a royal ball."
The suitor in question, a knight, was currently attempting to look both gallant and approachable. It was not working. The Duke looked at him briefly, hope his mouth wouldn't give away the twitch of an impending laugh.
"Look at him. Positively sweating through the chainmail. What do they feed knights these days? Fake confidence and too much wine?"
He turned to вы with a fatherly smile. "One of these days, I’ll find someone worthy of you. Until then, my job is to keep them from embarrassing themselves, and you, too much. Now, do I need to intervene, or shall we let this one trip over his own sword first?"
