Chapter 27
“F-Forgive me, Your Grace! I assumed the room was unoccupied!”
The servant had stepped inside, balancing a tray laden with a pitcher of water and several glasses.
“Set it down and leave.”
“Y-Yes, sir!”
Jolted by his icy command, she hastened to deposit the tray on the nightstand and fled the chamber.
After all the trouble he’d gone to, chastising the Grand Duchess for avoiding his bedside at night…
And here he was, caught gazing at her in slumber.
Pathetic.
At least the maid had glimpsed them side by side, so no one would disturb the Grand Duchess again.
Still, she couldn’t rest comfortably like that.
The gown posed no issue, but those earrings might snag.
After a brief pause, Loic extended a hand and lightly brushed her ear.
With delicate precision, he unfastened the tiny jewel from her supple lobe.
Her steady, soft breaths whispered through the quiet.
Once both earrings were off, Loic drew the covers snug around her, then compelled himself to exit without a backward glance.
Sunlight gleamed from the pristine white ceiling as my eyes fluttered open.
I shoved back the rigid bedding and propped myself upright.
Last night, I’d been poring over books in the study…
A glance downward revealed I still wore yesterday’s attire.
“…!”
Hold on. Why hadn’t I changed?
No matter how I strained, nothing came back about making it to my quarters.
Rubbing my temple in annoyance, I summoned the maid who’d just entered to straighten the linens.
“About last night?”
She faltered, shooting me a puzzled glance before responding cautiously.
“I’m not certain, but word is His Grace looked in on you during your sleep.”
I had to have heard wrong.
“Pardon?”
Catching my rising frustration, she rushed to clarify.
“Er… His Grace was here in your room and instructed us to stay out until dawn.”
I sent the fidgety maid away and sank back, utterly baffled.
The Grand Duke in my room?
Had he carried me back? But how?
Like some fairy-tale princess in his arms?
Impossible.
More likely, he’d hoisted me over his shoulder like a bag of grain.
Either scenario mortified me.
That dress had been weighted down by layers of cloth and heavy jewels.
I turned my head and spotted my earrings, arranged tidily on the nightstand.
I’d never been so meticulous with my trinkets.
“Ugh.”
This was overwhelming.
How had I slept through it all?
I probed Whitley discreetly about the evening prior, but he claimed ignorance.
The Grand Duke had been away the entire day, not due back until deep into the night.
Relief washed over me briefly—no immediate confrontation.
But then…
With him absent, the day stretched empty before me.
What on earth was I to do?
In the capital, afternoons brimmed with teas and galas.
Here, not a soul called on me, much less extended invitations.
Naturally, since I’d yet to make a public debut.
No one recognized me, so why seek me out?
The sky was clear today, though. Time for an outing.
My choice of destination was inevitable.
Within the hour, I perched at a table in the inn alongside Norton.
I’d timed it perfectly this visit—patrons dotted the space, savoring their lunches.
Marie soon set a piping-hot bowl of tomato stew before me.
“Mind the heat.”
Norton had cautioned her against fanfare, so she’d dropped the formal address, though deference lingered in her gaze.
The first spoonful sent a spicy glow racing down my throat, making me tremble.
“This has to be the finest tomato stew on earth.”
“You flatter me.”
Marie flushed, murmuring as if guarding a secret.
“No exaggeration. Not even the palace cooks match it.”
I’d once requested a spicy tomato stew from the castle kitchen.
Theirs was velvety and lush, yet missing that fiery edge I craved.
“But I can’t trek here whenever the urge strikes…”
I shook my head with a sigh.
Marie’s eyes widened.
“Care for the recipe?”
“The recipe? You’re certain it’s all right to share?”
She brushed it off with a wave.
“Nothing proprietary about it. Every household tweaks it their own way.”
Excitement sparked in me.
Palace fare was exquisite, but this flavor had haunted my thoughts lately.
“Then… might you jot it down?”
Marie didn’t hesitate, dashing off the full instructions—precise quantities for every spice included.
I slipped the note into my pocket, a twinge of guilt nagging.
A recipe was, after all, core to her livelihood.
Yet I had no plans to accept it gratis.
“Another serving?”
Marie grinned, eyeing my empty bowl.
“Yes, please!”
Fortunate I’d claimed a secluded nook, with Norton’s sturdy frame shielding me.
I could dine undisturbed, idly observing the crowd.
They carried a different air from the palace folk.
Most appeared to be laborers or vendors on break.
Their orders varied widely—
One gnawed at a crispy chicken drumstick.
His neighbor sopped bread in gravy.
Next to them, a plate of noodle strands evoked spaghetti.
Oddly, few seemed like overnight guests.
As Marie delivered my refill, I ventured,
“Not many lodgers about. Slow season?”
“Blenheim sees scant tourism, so no real highs or lows.”
“Really? Without travelers, how does the place stay afloat?”
“Traders overnight here en route to Rondoris. Northern business draws some too.”
“That sufficient?”
Marie offered a kind smile.
“We’ve a reliable lunch trade, so we scrape by.”
Once she moved off to serve others, her phrasing echoed.
“Scrape by?”
The midday bustle hadn’t struck me as thriving.
A vague disquiet settled in.
A Surprise Visit
Returning to the Grand Duke’s residence brought startling tidings.
“Madame Ramondria is here?”
“Indeed, Your Highness. Though…”
Whitley paused delicately.
“His Grace summoned her himself.”
“The Grand Duke sent for her?”
“With the shift in seasons, he wished her to review your wardrobe.”
Out of nowhere?
Had my gown seemed dowdy during yesterday’s knightly welcome?
Reading my bewilderment, Whitley chose his words with care.
“His Grace kept it from you to spare any pressure. If it’s poorly timed, I can postpone—”
“No!”
I flapped my hands emphatically.
“He made the effort, so the least I can do is see her.”
Mysterious motives aside, with not a single spring gown to my name, the timing was ideal.
I gave a firm nod.
The Fitting
“What an honor to meet Your Highness.”
At my bidding, Madame Ramondria swept in, trailed by aides burdened with gowns and fashion sketches.
Her keen features echoed our prior encounter, but I met her with a warm smile.
“Your work let me shine before the knights yesterday. A tight deadline, yet flawless.”
“I’m gratified it served you well, Your Highness.”
Madame Ramondria inclined her head modestly, then added,
“For a seamstress, timeliness is paramount. Entrust me with future commissions, and I’ll never fall short.”
She exuded dependability.
I’d fretted over rushed embroidery.
Yet while wrapping the handkerchiefs, I’d inspected—the 99 patterns were impeccably wrought.
Pride fueled her craft.
I found myself warming to her.
As her team arranged the display, Madame Ramondria unveiled the offerings.
A sapphire silk number sparkled with inset gems; another bared shoulders beneath intricate lace. Each piece breathed sophistication.
One featured pearl fastenings and frothy ruffles.
“Your Highness’s porcelain complexion flatters every silhouette. Hence the range I’ve brought.”
“All this in so short a span?”
I arched a brow, intrigued.
In her steady voice, Madame Ramondria explained,
“Anticipating your arrival in Blenheim, I prepared ahead, presuming a possible call.”
Impressive—pure entrepreneur.
Her eye for style was keen.
Even in her Goldrain boutique, her talent had shone.
These rivaled capital confections in finesse.
Against local standards, they dazzled.
The cuts echoed vogues while upholding Grand Duchess poise.
All impeccable… save one minor flaw.
