As she should.
But as much as Simon hated to admit, having breakfast all by his lonesome was not a welcome experience.
“Would you like to take breakfast with me instead?” Simon blurted out at the butler, unlike himself. He was realizing that the silence did not sit well with him.
If he was surprised by Simon’s question, he did not let it show.
“Take breakfast with you, Your Grace?” he repeated in a neutral tone.
Simon ran a hand through his hair. He had spoken without thinking. He did not knowwhathad gotten into him, just that it was difficult for him to stop now once he had started.
“Yes,” he nodded. “Sit down and have a meal with me. Would you like to do that? Surely, you must be hungry.”
“I am honored by your most generous offer, Your Grace,” the butler replied. “But I fear that it would not be very appropriate for me to join you for a meal.”
“What is so inappropriate about accompanying me for a meal?” Though as Simon spoke, he realized that his statement was not directed towards the butler in the slightest.
“It is simply not done, Your Grace,” the butler struggled, rightfully hesitant. In all his years working at the estate, Simon had never once before asked him a question like this.
“Well, I’m the duke, aren’t I? If I say it is done, then it is.”
“Of course, Your Grace,” came the reply, but the butler made no move to join him.
Very well, then.
Simon exhaled sharply and glanced down at his plate. It was pathetically empty. He had been waiting to eat with Rachel. Now, he was alone with no one to talk to except a butler who refused to participate in his attempt at conversation.
“Fine,” Simon muttered. “If you won’t eat with me, at least ask me something.”
“Ask you something, Your Grace?” The butler’s tone was growing increasingly more weary. He seemed concerned, more than anything, at Simon’s sudden shift in behavior.
“Yes.” Simon gestured vaguely. “A question. Anything you like. I am sure you must be curious about something.”
The irony was not lost on Simon that for someone who disliked being interrupted by too much chatter at the dinner table, he was nowseekingsomeone out to ask him questions—as Rachel had.
Annoyingly so,he added as an afterthought. Because that is what her questions were, annoying and nothing more. And certainly not something he would miss.
“Well?” Simon snapped at the butler, impatient now. “How hard is it to do?”
The butler nodded once, then cleared his throat. “Very well, Your Grace. How is the weather today?”
“You were just outside,” Simon replied flatly. Is that really the best that he could come up with?
“Yes, Your Grace.”
Simon exhaled through his nose. “It’s fine.”
The butler gave a single nod then clasped his hands behind his back, as though the conversation had concluded.
“What else? I would think that you would have more questions for me,” Simon prodded.The duchess seems to have an inexhaustible supply available at all times.
“You requested a question, Your Grace,” the butler said, expression neutral. “I asked you one.”
“Ah,” Simon ran a hand down his face. “Forget it. Just—bring me more tea.”
“At once, Your Grace,” the butler replied, suddenly more at ease.
It turned out that there was no replacement for Rachel’s annoying chatter, but Simon willed himself to be patient. It was just for breakfast. He was certain that the duchess was going to come to her senses by dinnertime.
