Chapter 27 Around a Cup of Tea
The beating of his heart almost drowned out the duchess’s voice as she told him to enter. Cautiously, he opened the door, not daring to step inside immediately.
Lady Brynn didn’t lift her eyes at first, expecting Brennan. After an awkward silence, she finally looked up.
“Yes, Henry, wha—Lord Oscar?”
She remained wary for a few moments before rising, clearly annoyed.
“My majordomo expressly informed you that you did not have access to this wing of the castle and—”
He interrupted her, extending the enormous bouquet of flowers in front of him in a rather rigid move. He looked like an anxious child and hadn’t even spoken a word yet. Such a fool. She stayed, again, wary. Time seemed to stretch between them. Outside, the rain was finally beginning to subside to only soft "plocs" on the windows.
When Oscar finally mustered the courage to speak, it felt as if an eternity had passed. His hands were clammy — almost shaking.
“I… I came to apologise for earlier. I… realised that I was very rude, and I ask your pardon. I failed to consider your point of view and your experience regarding the situation. I am sorry.”
The duchess remained silent for a moment—now only a few feet away from him—before delicately taking the bouquet. Their fingers brushed.
“You… bought flowers?” She asked, puzzled.
He ran a hand through his hair, eyes fixed on the floor.
“In fact, it was Abélie who suggested the idea,” he admitted sincerely.
She gave a faint smile.
“Well, your majordomo has more sense than I thought.”
She turned her back to Oscar briefly to place the bouquet in a beautiful vase with golden paintings on it, replacing the old, wilted flowers. He hesitated to step further in. Had his apology been enough? Had he overdone it? He should leave her alone for now.
Just as he was about to turn away, she called him back.
“Close the door behind you, and sit down. I’ll have some tea brought up.”
He considered the offer, heart pounding. After all, who could he fool? He couldn’t refuse.
As he sat on the sofa, he watched her pull on a cord attached to the wall.
“So that’s how you summon your servants?”
“I prefer the East Wing to remain empty when I work. It’s a system that allows me to fulfil that wish,” she replied simply before taking a seat opposite him.
Neither spoke until a young servant brought in a tray of tea. How did he know two cups were needed? The young lord couldn't know.
Oscar remained nervous, with a lump in his throat that he couldn’t shake. The duchess observed him without hiding it.
Once the boy left, she poured the tea with practice and handed him a cup.
“It’s a Southern blend, not quite from Rivière, but I hope it will bring back good memories.”
The attention surprised him, and he inhaled the aroma of the tea.
He felt nostalgia—or perhaps homesickness. Far from the harsher scents of Wingfall, the tea smelt spicy and complex. It reminded him of home, and he savoured it.
A bittersweet reminder.
The silence between them became oppressive—or at least, that’s how Oscar felt. The duchess seemed to keep him measured, under her control, while she sipped her tea.
Oscar had noticed it over their conversations, but silence carried more messages than one might think. His father, too, was a master in the art of mastering the silent. But with the Duchess, Oscar felt that it was less aggressive—perhaps less hurtful—than with his father.
After what felt like a long time, she finally spoke in a soft tone that surprised him.
“I did not expect you to come to apologise. I would have thought you more… stubborn, perhaps.”
She was choosing her words carefully, as if observing and assessing the situation.
He regarded her; her tone bore no accusation. He drew in a breath.
“As I said, it was Abélie who made me aware of my… rudeness. She deserves full credit for that.”
Lady Brynn laughed, which surprised Oscar. He tightened his fingers around his cup.
“I truly misjudged your majordomo. Even though Brennan told me she had little formal education in etiquette and propriety, it seems she possesses much common sense and tact.”
"It was no coincidence that I chose her to be my majordomo, despite her lack of experience," he retorted softly.
She met his gaze, emerald eyes sparkling in a curious way. “And you are far more naive than I might have thought.” She continued.
“Naive?” he repeated, raising an eyebrow. “You find me naive?”
“In a way, yes,” she confirmed, taking another sip of tea. Oscar swore he saw a small, knowing smile tug at her lips.
“I… thank you, I suppose,” the young man hesitated. “Honestly, no one has ever called me ‘naive’ before.”
“That’s true; it’s not written on your face,” she chuckled. “I think many see you as… distant, intimidating even.”
Oscar nodded; she had a keen eye.
“May I ask you a question?” he said, suddenly serious.
She raised an eyebrow.
"You are already asking me a question," the duchess pointed out as she gestured for him to continue.
The young lord wanted to delve into the whole matter of city security, the hooded figures in the streets of Mulberry, and other pressing questions. But those were not the most urgent.
“Why did you choose me? As a future husband, I mean. You have already mentioned the difficult situation of the Rivière duchy, and I admit it’s a valid argument. But you are the sole master of a flourishing duchy. You could have chosen anyone you wished. You could have chosen love, which is not granted to every young woman of your rank.”
This was not even granted to him.
The question seemed to surprise Lady Brynn. Eyes fixed on Oscar, she finished her sip of tea before replying.
“I could have chosen love; it’s true. And, I admit, I probably would have if the opportunity had arisen. But I am not seeking love, and love does not seek me…” She paused. “And it became urgent to find a husband. The mockery and frivolities of the court threatened some of my plans for this duchy.”
“Plans?” the young lord asked, surprised.
“I will tell you in due time,” she assured him with a sly smile, without offering more explanations.
He had hoped for answers, and instead, he was left with more questions. It seemed to be a recurring pattern these days. He should have felt annoyed, but he found himself growing accustomed to Mulberry’s puzzling nature. To Lady Brynn's puzzling nature.
Perhaps that wasn’t for the best.