The duchess took a seat by the window and gestured for Cedrica to join her. Her Grace had not been in this room since before the house party, contenting herself with daily reports and quick consultations wherever she happened to be during the day. Whoever did the bulk of the work, Cedrica was in no doubt that Her Grace was firmly in charge of the entire event, knew exactly what went on under her roof, and would step in if the ladies made a decision that was not to her liking.
Had that happened? Had she done something the duchess disapproved of?
“Did you need me for something, Aunt Eleanor?”
The duchess’ reply was cryptic. “I think perhaps you need me for something, my dear.”
Cedrica sat, her mind racing as she reviewed all the ways she might have fallen short of Her Grace’s high standards.
“When I saw you slip away with your Sun King, I thought you had found the path to your future, Cedrica, but since then, nothing. Or am I mistaken? Are you and your suitor keeping your agreement secret for some reason? You do not seem happy, dear child, and that simply will not do.”
Cedrica opened her mouth to protest and then closed it again. Her Grace could not possibly know…
The duchess was silent, too, her face alive with interest, her head on one side as if she would listen forever, if that was how long it took for Cedrica to think of something to say.
“You do not understand, Your Gr—Aunt Eleanor.”
“I would like to. I am an interfering old woman, my dear, but I wish you well, you know. And Monsieur Fournier, too. Yes, Cedrica, I did recognize him in my husband’s Louis XIV costume and that ancient wig.”
Suddenly, Cedrica found herself pouring the whole story into the duchess’s sympathetic ears. Everything: the first unfortunate clashes, the growing attraction, the quiet times in the kitchen, the chef’s surprising appearance at the costume party, and what came of it.
At length, the duchess gave her a hug and handed her a handkerchief. “So, he thinks you are far above him and is being noble about it.”
Cedrica, who had somehow arrived on the rug at Her Grace’s feet and was weeping into the noble lady’s gown, looked up in surprise. “Is that what he is doing?”
“Yes, of course. Silly romantic boy.”
Cedrica blotted her eyes and blew her nose. The duchess did not sound disapproving. Quite the contrary. “You do not mind? You do not think I would be marrying beneath me?”
“Does it matter what I think, my dear? Unless you are thinking of the dowry Aldridge promised?”
“I do not care about the dowry. Monsieur Fournier has plans… But, Aunt Eleanor, I care about your good opinion.”
The duchess said nothing, smiling gently, one brow slightly arched.
Cedrica felt as she had in the village schoolroom when suddenly she knew the answer to a question that had eluded her for days. “But not as much as I care about Monsieur Fournier. I am sorry if you disapprove, Aunt Eleanor, but I will marry him if he will have me.”
The duchess beamed with all the delight of a dedicated teacher. “Excellent. You do realize that you will have to ask him, Cedrica? Men can be so foolish.” She shook her head fondly. “Off you go. This is a quiet time in the kitchen, is it not? Take your Monsieur Fournier for a walk. If any problems arise while you and Esther are occupied, I am sure I shall manage.”
Cedrica hesitated a moment more and then startled them both with an impulsive hug. “Thank you, Aunt Eleanor.”
