“Yes, Mr. Orlov, sir,” Fane agreed.
“Sir is for my father, please,” Prince Orlov tried to smile reassuringly.
“Mr. Orlov, I must apologize for earlier. It seems I was not well and that did not make for a good impression for either one of us. My commanding officer informed me of such an error after I was released from hospital. I would rather not make the relationship between the Punjab and my command strained. Is there a way for me to reconcile this?” Fane asked. Prince Orlov blinked at him, floored. Maybe first impressions weren’t everything.
The waiter showed up before Prince Orlov could compose himself for a response. The waiter placed a fine china cup in front Fane and asked, “is there anything else you gentlemen will be needing?” Fane shook his head and Orlov waved a dismissive hand. The waiter tipped his head in response and left.
“I think it is I who must apologize, Mr. Anson,” Prince Orlov set aside his paper.
Fane startled at the comment. Why was this man apologizing to him? His commanding officer had made it pretty clear to him that there had been some issues to resolve with the Punjabi scout. “Mr. Orlov?” Fane asked. He fingered his cup, testing the heat.
“I made a snap decision when I first saw you at the assembly. You appear to be a much more respectable person then my initial impression. I would rather not let such an error on my part affect our working relationship during this scouting mission,” Prince Orlov teeth gleamed.
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