Chapter 15
“Once you’ve finished the top fillet, you must remove the spine before eating the meat underneath. If you flip the fish over as you just did, the nobility will stare. Some ladies might even drop their cutlery in pure shock.”
Windsor had a nagging suspicion that she was relishing this. It was the only explanation for how she could lecture him so relentlessly without pausing for a single breath.
He kept the thought to himself, however. He knew perfectly well that accusing her would only result in a flat, polite denial.
He flipped the fish back to its original position and began meticulously extracting the bones with surgical precision.
“The reason we avoid flipping the fish is simply because it looks unrefined.”
He was already well aware of the reasoning.
Jacqueline watched him with an air of supreme confidence. Though Windsor’s sharp gaze seemed to bore into her, she remained entirely unphased.
“One should never appear too focused on the meal, regardless of how delicious it tastes. Periodically, you must rest your utensils and engage those beside you in conversation. Otherwise, by the time dessert arrives, the rumors will claim Lord Preston possesses a gluttonous appetite.”
Windsor’s brow twitched. When he had first entered the navy, he couldn’t say he had adapted with ease—not even on the surface.
The military was a world defined by rigid discipline and uncompromising rules, a place that rivaled a prison in its strictness. There, a single man’s lapse in judgment could lead to a comrade’s grave.
Obedience to the established order was absolute. There were no exceptions.
But high society was a different beast altogether. No one perished because a knife pointed the wrong way, and the fleet wouldn’t sink just because a fish had been turned over.
As Jacqueline pointed out, it was a labyrinth of unnecessary and exhausting trivialities. Yet, failing to navigate it would leave him permanently cast out beyond an invisible border.
Etiquette was the mortar of their class—a golden chain binding the aristocracy together.
Windsor, having been thrust into this world so abruptly, had to breach that wall and secure his place inside. It was his burden and his obligation as the Marquess of Preston.
Clack.
Windsor placed his silver on the edge of the plate and turned his full attention toward her.
“It truly is a pointless and irritating set of complications.”
Detecting the vein of frustration in his voice, Jacqueline realized it was time to offer a carrot rather than another stroke of the lash.
A horse forced into a constant gallop by the whip would eventually tire—or worse, buck its rider off entirely.
“Actually, you are performing quite well—better than you realize. Since your natural movements are already poised, you only need to commit these few tedious rules to memory. Soon, dining with others will feel like second nature. I can assure you no one will ever whisper about Lord Preston’s manners. To be honest, even among the old blood, very few have mastered every single rule.”
“Then, Miss Somerset, may I finish what is on my plate?”
“By all means, Lord Preston.”
Jacqueline gave a small nod. With her leave granted, Windsor resumed his meal.
The sight of him was so reminiscent of Benjamin that Jacqueline had to stifle a laugh. For all his sternness, there was something oddly endearing about the man.
“Oh, and one more thing, Lord Preston—butter is not to be spread on bread during luncheon or dinner.”
Of course, she had no intention of being quite as soft with him as she was with the boy.
She fixed him with the uncompromising stare of a strict governess.
“Hah.”
A dry chuckle escaped Windsor’s lips. With an expression of cold indifference, he muttered,
“I find it difficult to grasp why they bother putting butter on the table at all if using it is forbidden.”
Despite his grumbling, he quietly set the butter knife aside and took a piece of plain bread to his mouth. His brow remained deeply furrowed, but his self-discipline was unshakable.
Jacqueline found the entire display immensely entertaining. Even if Windsor looked miserable, he was a diligent student, and she had always appreciated a pupil who followed instructions.
“You aren’t permitted to use it, but if the butter is missing from the table, the guests will gossip about your stinginess behind your back.”
Windsor’s scowl deepened. He shot her a look of genuine incredulity.
“Do they not find that incredibly wasteful?”
“That is precisely what I meant—it is a system of unnecessary and bothersome vanity.”
“And yet, to ignore it is to invite ridicule?”
“Exactly. In that world, the list of things you are forbidden from doing is far longer than the list of things you are allowed.”
Jacqueline nodded in somber agreement. Windsor raised an eyebrow, though his movements remained impeccably refined.
“It will be the same at the boarding school Benjamin enters next year. He will find far more restrictions there than freedoms. Given that, wouldn’t it be pleasant if there were a few more things he could do here? This is his home, after all. That is, of course, if you are willing to defer to my judgment as his governess.”
Windsor stared at her in silence, seemingly caught off balance by her pivot.
Jacqueline met his eyes with a faint, steady smile. Under the warm glow of the candles, Windsor’s blond hair took on a soft orange hue, and his grey eyes seemed to hold depths that were impossible to read.
Just as Jacqueline found herself momentarily distracted by his striking features, Windsor gave a sharp nod. The movement snapped her focus back to the matter at hand.
“Do as you see fit. But do not ever lose sight of the fact that Benjamin is the future Marquess of Preston.”
“I won’t. You have my thanks, Lord Preston.”
She offered him a sweet, crinkle-eyed smile—a look so genuine it spoke of a happy, well-loved childhood.
Windsor felt certain she had been raised in a home full of warmth. Yet, regardless of how cherished she had been, she was a woman destined to leave Preston Manor.
After all, no one had ever successfully turned down the King’s favor.
She would inevitably become an instrument of the Crown. And Windsor was not a man so charitable as to keep a spy for his enemies on his payroll.
“When you are finished, simply rest your fork and knife side-by-side on the plate.”
Windsor looked up slowly. Jacqueline met his gaze, tilting her head as if to ask what was wrong.
He carefully aligned his cutlery and took the napkin from his lap to dab at the corner of his mouth.
“Ah—you must use the inside fold of the napkin, Lord Preston, not the front.”
He went rigid.
Windsor froze, the fabric still pressed against his lips.
“But I’m sure you were already aware of that.”
A short, involuntary laugh broke from his throat. He realized that once he finally dismissed her, he might actually miss this; a governess with such ruthless honesty was a rare find.
“Oh, before I forget.”
As if a new thought had just struck her, Jacqueline spoke up again. Windsor, having just placed his napkin on the tablecloth, looked back at her.
“Is there some other transgression I should be mindful of?”
“No, you are doing quite well. I was simply wondering if you had already selected a gift for Benjamin’s birthday?”
Windsor paused. Their conversations often took these sharp, unpredictable turns—like kernels of corn popping in a hot pan.
“I have. It is settled.”
“If it isn’t too bold of me to ask—what did you choose?”
After taking a slow sip of water, Windsor answered casually,
“The complete historical archives of the kingdom.”
“I see…”
Jacqueline’s face fell, her expression suggesting she had expected exactly such a thing. She looked up at him tentatively.
“Might I ask what you gave him last year?”
“A complete set of continental mythologies. Both the myths of the land and the history of our kingdom are vital prerequisites for boarding school. It is the most appropriate gift for a boy in Benjamin’s position.”
“I see…”
Her disappointment was palpable. However, she quickly straightened her shoulders and spoke with newfound resolve.
“Lord Preston, in my capacity as his governess—”
Windsor watched her, waiting for whatever unexpected remark was about to fly his way.
She was like popcorn—likely to jump out from an unforeseen angle and hit him right between the eyes if he wasn’t careful.
“Would you allow me to assist you in choosing his gift?”
Windsor’s eyes narrowed slightly. He looked up at the ceiling, mentally reviewing their conversation, before returning his gaze to her.
“I believe I just told you the matter was settled. Was there something I said that you found ambiguous, Miss Somerset?”
“Not at all. I merely wish to suggest a gift that would bring Benjamin more joy than a set of history books. I offer the suggestion out of genuine goodwill.”
Windsor fell silent, thinking of his quiet, reserved nephew. A note of skepticism entered his voice.
“Has Benjamin asked you for something specific?”
Even as he said it, he doubted it. The boy never made demands; he showed no signs of typical childhood greed.
Jacqueline’s eyes widened at the accusation, and she shook her head vigorously.
“No, certainly not. Benjamin would never dream of such a thing. I have never met a child so inherently polite and well-mannered.”
That, Windsor could believe. He gave a slow nod of agreement.
Sensing his hesitation, Jacqueline added quickly, almost apologetically,
“A gift is meant to bring happiness to the recipient. Your choice—while I recognize your noble intentions for his future—”
She caught her breath, bit her lip, and looked him squarely in the eye.
“—is what you want to give him, Lord Preston. It is not what Benjamin truly desires.”
“And how can you be so certain of that?”
“Can you not tell simply by observing him?”
Her eyes searched his, pleading for him to understand—as if the answer were written on the walls. But Windsor was not so easily swayed.
Jacqueline let out a soft, frustrated sigh. “I…” She scrambled for the right words, clearly struggling to articulate the feeling.
“Benjamin is a child of few words, but if you look closely, you can see it. You can see when his eyes sparkle, when his pale cheeks take on a flush of excitement, or when a tiny smile starts to tug at his lips.”
If you just look closely, you will understand.
To Windsor, that sounded entirely illogical. Observation was a subjective thing, filtered through the eyes of the beholder.
When he sat in silence, deep in thought, Roman would ask if he was angry, William would ask if his health was failing,
and Benjamin would simply offer a quiet apology.
Seeing that Windsor remained unconvinced, Jacqueline’s brow pinched. Eventually, he stood from the table without another word.
Jacqueline didn’t even try to hide the sigh of disappointment that escaped her.
