Despite the apprehension Luke had about Rhiane spending time speaking with her "exes," the conversation with the small crowd remained friendly, casual, and respectable, except for a few jokes exchanged between the men (and a couple farmer women). For the most part the discussion revolved around the businesses run by, managed by, or employed by the individuals in the bar. The princess elect listened intently and dispensed advice accordingly about accounting, contract negotiations, seed value, crop rotation, various equipment with which she was familiar, retailers, suppliers, government subsidies, and irrigation. Her time in the contest had never really touched on the breadth of knowledge she had acquired since she took over running the Black family farm. Listening to her now, although she did not proclaim to be an expert, she could speak far more intelligently than any of the aristocrats she had met would ever believe. Not only did she have answers for practical questions about agriculture, she could recall the rise and fall of various associated stocks accurately over the past several years.

For their part, Gerald and Hubert were happy to silently eat as Luke and Sebastian did, though they consumed far more alcohol than the prince. A few times a stolen glance at the brunette's farmer would reveal that he was smiling with pride. They were still estranged. The arguments and bickering earlier in the day had proved their issues were not resolved, but it was clear from his expression how much he prized his only daughter. While the nobility scoffed at her low birth and substandard education, he knew how hard she fought to claw her success out of the depths of poverty, with more disadvantages than most. She never had a parent to guide her since her mother passed and he had wallowed in grief, she was met with gender bias, she had very limited resources, yet she had made it. He had been full of intense love and admiration since before New Rome knew who she was.

All the while they were exchanging thoughts, Rhiane was radiant. It was not just the company of her former peers, but how they treated her. No one scoffed at her opinion, no one insulted or belittled her, no one judged her for her clothing or hair, and no one sneered. It was easy to forget as they teased, laughed, and carried on a heated debate about the best type of fertilizer for a home garden that they were just peasants. They shared with each other freely, without malice or jockeying for favor, sharing in one another's triumphs and empathizing over losses. This was what she dreamed of finding inside the palace, but had thus far eluded her.

During the drinking game, the princess elect watched intently, cheering for 'her team.' She gently ribbed Terzo for being awful at throwing the ball- he was genuinely wretched with throwing the ball- and ended up having his wife called to pick him up after he and Luke lost horribly. Though the large man was able to hold his liquor, he had lost his sense of when he was overindulging, and was becoming more unsteady on his feet. As much fun as she had the entrepreneur to talk to, she feared sending him home disgustingly drunk, and by the third game his wife was still trying to coax him out the front door while prattling on about how he needed to watch the last round. He recognized this was a once in a life time opportunity. They did not say it aloud, but everyone present suspected this was the first and last time they'd see Rhiane Black since her engagement.

Gerald slowly warmed to his future brother-in-law through the second round. Sebastian undoubtedly anticipated this in quietly commanding his paramour to step in before anyone else did. Like Luke, Gerald was competitive, but he had more athleticism and Terzo as well as more familiarity with the game he was playing. In his own way he bonded with the prince silently; instead of seeing him as an heir to the throne, he saw him as team mate, and instead of the enemy he was a comrade. The alcohol helped his disposition as well. His brooding had been dispersed by the effects of a full stomach, pints of home-brewed extra-strong beer, friendship, his sister's presence, and the satisfaction of winning. By no means was he ready to be pen-pals with anyone in the castle, but he was markedly less antagonistic than when they had sat down for dinner.

"It's a shame Rhiane isn't playing," one of the audience called out.

"Hey, we want a fighting chance," the male farmer on the opposing team protested.

"You're lucky I'm letting you borrow my fiance for a night," Rhiane said with crossed arms. "You should all know by now I'm not usually this generous. You can have him for one more game, and you can feel free to repay me by asking your wives to bake for me, since I know none of you know how to use an oven, except [i]maybe[/i] Phillip." There were guffaws of feigned offense, and the few women that were participating enjoyed the jab at their counterpart's expense.

"You still going to be here tomorrow?" one asked in surprise.

"Why, you worried?" Rhiane countered, teasing, earning more chuckles. She leaned in close to Luke's ear before the third round began and said, "I'm holding you to your obligation for tonight, Prince Alessandro. I'll be very cross if you lose this game and spoil our plans." Planting a quick, overly sensual kiss on his lips, she straightened her posture and returned to a safe distance for the activities to resume. The exes in the crowd did not seethe with jealousy. If anything, they were impressed and amused, nodding their heads in approval for the brief display of affection. Seeing the former resident of their town acting like herself and flirting added much more credence to the romance than any broadcast.