“Everyone thought the same what?” Dietrich asked, coming around the side of the booth with a tray full of clean mugs.
“Do you know who Caspian is?” Sophia demanded.
Dietrich stared at him, his eyes narrowing. “No?”
“He’s Lord Rendon’s son,” Thea said. “How did you not know that? Did you not listen to Eugenia at all?”
Dietrich set the tray down on the table and raised his hands in innocence. “I don’t make a habit of listening to Eugenia’s ramblings and gossip.”
Thea sighed. “Well, at least you weren’t the only one who didn’t know, Sophia.”
Sophia grumbled, “At least I’m not the only idiot, you mean?”
“Hey now,” Dietrich said, “I take offense to that for both of us.”
“You’re not an idiot,” Caspian said, bringing his hand to rest on Sophia’s lower back. “You had no way of knowing if no one told you or addressed me by my title in front of you. I’m only sorry that I didn’t say it.”
“Well, I’m still sorry that I didn’t mention it myself,” Thea said.
Lord Rendon bumped into Caspian’s shoulder. “You’re causing a line, son. Also, I would love two cups of cider, Thea.”
“Of course, sir,” she said with a smile as Dietrich poured a steaming hot mug and handed it to Lord Rendon.
In return, Caspian handed over a generous number of coins and Thea’s eyes brightened. “Thank you.”
“Have a great festival,” Caspian said, putting gentle pressure on Sophia’s back to guide her away from the booth.
His father followed them to where Lady Rendon and Liliana stood waiting. “You did a wonderful job with the festival, my darling,” Lady Rendon said as her husband handed her the steaming mug. “I couldn’t have done a better job myself.”
“Oh, I’m sure you could have,” Caspian said with a grin. “But I’m glad it meets your approval.”
“We must find Beatrice and tell her how happy we are,” Lady Rendon told Lord Rendon. “You know it means a great deal to her.”
“And she did the vast majority of the work,” Caspian said.
“Come, let’s walk.” Lord Rendon offered an arm to his wife. “We’ll see if we can find her.”
“Shall we walk with them, or make our own journey?” Caspian asked Sophia.
“I would love to stop at our booth and make sure my soaps are organized well,” Sophia said. “I was so busy with your mother this afternoon, I didn’t get to come and make sure it was all arranged to my satisfaction.”
“Does it matter how they’re arranged?” Caspian raised an eyebrow.
“Absolutely,” Sophia said. “Trust me.”
He laughed as they made their way to the manor’s booth. There was a table filled with honey from their bees, Sophia’s goat milk soap, and baskets that had been made during the last winter. Sophia pulled away from him to arrange her soaps neatly, the kitchen staff member minding the booth smiling at her indulgently as she did so.
“That’s enough,” he said, attempting to take her hand after she’d touched every single piece at least once.
“Hold on, I have to get the soap off my fingers,” she said. “I wouldn’t want to get it on this fine dress.”
He offered his arm, clad in a coat. “Wipe it off on me.”
“It will get it dirty,” she protested.
“It’s soap. It’ll wash.”
She frowned at him but wiped her hand on his sleeve, leaving behind a tiny streak of soap.
