“I should have made his damned ball a masquerade,” he rubbed his face. “At least I’d have cause to wear that silver half mask.”
As he sat up, a knock came and Cedric didn’t have to think twice; he knew Hunt’s terse knock like the back of his hand. “Come,” he ordered.
Hunt stepped in with a cup of coffee on a tray. “Good morning, Your Grace,” he set the tray down and bowed. “I hope you’re feeling well.”
“As well as I can after sleeping on a bed of nails,” Cedric grunted, then gestured to the blanket. “Where did this come from?”
“Her Grace,” Hunt said. “She came in at midnight and decided to pull your boots off and make sure you didn’t wake with a chill.”
His heart felt as if it shifted from the left part of his chest to the right. No one— not since his mother, when he was a child— had done something as sweet and caring as this for him. He stared at the blanket as if he didn’t know what it was.
“Did she now?” his voice was raw.
“And she told me not to wake you,” Hunt replied. “She also asked me to make sure you had a good breakfast upon waking.”
“And what did she recommend?”
“Eye of newt and toe of frog, wool of bat and tongue of dog, adder's fork and blind-worm's sting, lizard's leg and?—”
“Remind me to send your recommendation to the Covent Garden Theatre, court jester,” Cedric huffed as he stood. “I’ll have oats, thank you, with honey, not henbane.”
Hunt’s lips twitched. “Understood, Your Grace.”
Cedric left the study to find Ariadne, only to run across one of her sisters, the one with the spectacles. What was her name again? Mary? Marianne? M— something?
“Your Grace,” she curtsied and hurried away before he could utter a word.
Shaking his head, he went off to find Ariadne, but didn’t find her in her room. He did find her in her drawing room, sorting out cards with great energy. She was dressed in a high-necked day gown that looked more serviceable than anything he had ever seen her in before.
He stepped inside, and noting the stack of cards to her left, asked, “Good morning, how long have you been here?”
“Since dawn,” she smiled up at him. “How did you sleep?”
“Well enough,” he said. “I’m told you visited me at midnight.”
She set another card to the left, “I learn that you burn the candles at both ends,” she said. “I want to add something to your schedule, too.”
His brows lifted. “And what is that?”
“That you get at least eight hours of sleep a night, starting at ten in the night to six in the morning,” she said, “I have it on good standing that a solid night’s sleep elongates your life exponentially.”
“Every night?”
“Five nights.”
“Three,” he said.
Ariadne replied, “Six.”
“Four is my last offer,” Cedric said.
Her lips pursed. “I suppose I’ll take that. You drive a hard bargain, Your Grace.”
“That is my job,” he snorted. “I will see you tonight. Don’t work too hard, Ariadne.”
Her head darted up, surprise painting her face, which made him a tad confused. “What?”
“You rarely call me by my name,” she replied in wonder. “I’d like it if you do that more.”
