Randall appeared in the doorway. “Supper is served for Princess Kunigunde.”
“I am not a…” Kuni began, then gave up. Very well. She could be Graham’s princess for one night.
“Unspeakably unfair,” Tommy muttered. “The timely interruptionandthe secret language.”
“Supper?” Kuni glanced at Tommy’s clock, then turned back to the butler in surprise. “It is four thirty in the afternoon.”
The butler bowed. “Master Graham awaits you.”
21
Kuni followed Randall not to the dining room where the Wynchesters usually took their meals, but into the mostly unfurnished wing.
The reading circle was still in their library. Kuni kept her eyes firmly on the back of the butler’s graying head to keep from peeking in at all the friends she could have made if she were here to stay.
At the end of the corridor was a bright corner room. Inside the large, otherwise empty room was a small table for two. No sideboard. No visible food. Just a beautiful little table in the center of an enormous room. Upon the tablecloth were two place settings, a bottle of wine, a posy of flowers, and two completely unnecessary lit candles.
It was utterly charming.
Graham stood to one side, hands folded behind him. At the sight of Kuni, his warm brown eyes shone with pleasure. He strode forward.
“Romantic supper for two, as promised.” He pressed his lips to the back of her hand. “You probably thought I’d forgotten.”
She’d hoped he had. Kuni liked Graham too much to possibly keep her defenses intact when besieged by such a sweet gesture. But she would have to try.
Even though he was very good at breaching walls.
“Isn’t it a little early for supper?” she asked lightly.
“It’s absurdly early,” was his cheerful reply. “But ‘romantic snack for two’ doesn’t have quite the same ring. Since we’re both under the same roof at the same time, I didn’t want to miss my chance.”
She was saved from having to answer by two footmen gliding into the room. One helped Kuni into her seat while the other opened the wine. After pouring a few centimeters into each goblet, the footmen melted back to a discreet distance.
Before, she would not have noticed the position of footmen. As the princess’s companion, Kuni was so used to being waited on—or being the one waiting on Mechtilda—that the presence of maids or footmen registered about as much as the individual mullions on the windows. Without them, the whole thing would fall apart, but no one ever exclaimed in wonder at well-functioning mullions. Royals looked right through the painstakingly crafted glass to the view on the other side.
But once Kuni had taken her first step onto the dock in London, everything had changed. Ada, her lady’s maid, remained on the ship. Starting then, Kuni was on her own. If she wanted to change her clothes or eat a meal, it had been up to her to make it happen. Graham had found her after only a week, but that had been more than long enough to put many of the privileges she’d long taken for granted into perspective.
Graham clinked his glass with hers. “To Princess Kunigunde.”
“To the Wynchesters,” she said quickly. “You are all so kind to me. And to the Goodnights. How is the case going?”
There. That wasn’t romantic. It was being a grateful guest. That should set the tone for their supper. Which she would remember forever, no matter the topics discussed.
“Mr. York has requested to bring the matter to the House of Commons. He’ll have an answer soon.” Graham waited until she’d tasted her wine before sipping his. “In the meantime, I have taken the liberty of selecting this evening’s snack.”
She frowned. “The liberty? Doesn’t the man of the house always make decisions?”
“In England, menus are actually considered the responsibility of theladyof the house. But I haven’t a wife. Besides, my family and I have always taken turns suggesting meals to the kitchen staff.”
Scalloped sea wolves! If there was ever a role Kuni had not spent even a single moment preparing for, it was becoming mistress of an Englishman’s household. Another reason to keep their flirtation light and temporary.
“I’ve found everything your chef has prepared to be delicious.”
Graham’s eyes twinkled. “I’ve decided to do something a little different tonight.”
“It is all different to me,” she replied. “Hardly anything you eat reminds me of home.”
He leaned forward, his gaze interested. “Tell me what Balcovians eat. If you were in charge of a romantic supper for two, what would you serve me?”
