Well...
Drat.
She couldn't very well pretend she hadn't heard that.
"I bloody hate politics," Reina muttered to herself as she quickly stepped out from her little alcove to cross to the clearly unconscious duke and work to get one arm under his, saying brightly--loudly, in case the voices she'd overheard were closing in--"Come on, Your Grace, let's get you to bed."
Curse me thrice for a fool.