"Thank you," Elizabeth said, standing so that she could move out of his line of site into the bedroom and change into it but still hear him speak. "You don't need to apologise to me," Elizabeth said, slipping out of the robe and into the shirt. It was long enough to come halfway down her thighs but still utterly scandalous by her own standards. She wondered where her underwear was, but remembered that it had been abandoned downstairs.
She chided herself silently that she wouldn't let it bother her, that she was a queen no matter what she was wearing. Head held high she emerged from the bedroom again, wearing an expression that for all the world seemed to have no idea of her state of undress (or her still flushed cheeks, or sex-messed hair). "Cupid's arrows," Elizabeth said. "You're a common aim of his then?" She was fortunate to have not fallen into his path before now, it seemed.
At his insistence of the things he should do, Elizabeth simply raised a hand to silence him. "Hush. I'll not be sent me away in the morning like some common street whore. I am quite adult enough to deal with the repercussions of all of my actions, immortally influenced or not."