The duke walks on, giving me a disapproving look. Oh boy, he’s a bore like everyone else.
“My darling, did you get lost again?” Ashford asks me as soon as I’m back in my seat. His tone is undoubtedly irritated.
“Been missing me,my love?” We always stress the wordsmy darlingandmy lovea lot.
Ashford forces a smile. “I was counting the seconds.”
Lady Valéry intrudes into our script: “Newly-wed couples are adorable. You remind me so much of Harold and me, we were always looking for each other! Do you remember that, Harold?” She asks, nudging the embalmed owl to her left.
The conversation covers future high society events, horses, regattas, and the use of pitch and lob shots on an eighteen hole golf course, all subjects I have little or no knowledge of.
As soon as they take the soup plates away, I jump up to go back to the kitchens and Ashford gives me a grim look.
Lance is waiting for me again, with steaming chicken wings this time, so I take my seat back. I grunt in anger, noticing that the teams are drawing.
Lance is preparing a hot dog, on which he’s putting a generous squeeze of mustard, so I make some room for him on the worktop. “Come on, keep me company!”
He shakes his head and settles next to the doors.
Just a second later, they open and the duke comes in. I’m petrified, and there is a chicken wing showing between my lips.
“Your Highness,” says Lance, handing him the hot dog.
“Thank you, Lance.”
“If you want to sit on the worktop, Her Grace the duchess was already following the match.”
This time, there’s no expression of disapproval on the duke’s face; on the contrary, he looks rather curious.
“Manchester United?” He asks me, cautiously.
“You must be joking! Arsenal, by far!” I exclaim, balling up the greasy paper my chicken was wrapped in.
The duke smiles and looks more relaxed. “Very well, in that case, I’d sit next to you with much pleasure, but I fear that my hip would not agree,” he says, and he sits in the chair by the door. “What a pleasant surprise to discover that Denby Hall’s new lady is a supporter of the Gunners.”
“To the bone, Sir.”
“Call me Cedric,” he says, winking.
“Delphina won’t be pleased,” I comment.
Cedric smiles, keeping his eyes on thetv. “You can bet on it.”
Lance clears his throat and points at the door. “It’s been more than ten minutes.”
Cedric beckons me to go. “I’ll hold the fort.”
When I return to my place, Ashford kicks my shin, and I welcome this lovely gesture smiling from ear to ear.
He smiles in turn and whispers through his clenched teeth: “Shall I glue you to that chair,my darling?”
“If you want to make sure I won’t leave, you’ll have to make me sit on your lap.”
“If you disappear again, you can be sure I will. Now eat yourfilet Voronoff.”
“What if I don’t? Are you going to feed me?” I must have uttered the end of the sentence with too much emphasis, because Ashford takes a piece of fillet and puts it in my mouth. “Your wish is my command,my love.”
To make sure I won’t leave again, Ashford keeps my hand on the table for the rest of the dinner. He holds it in a tight grip which is anything but tender.
