Hesitant, Nin leaned over in her seat and extended her fingers. Bijou stepped cautiously until she snatched up the treat.
“Good,” Cedric said.
Nin attempted to pat the dog on the head, but Bijou ran from her and hid between Lucille’s legs. It was still progress, nonetheless.
“She’ll remain nearby during your lessons. She must grow accustomed to you,” he said.
With that, he strode toward Nin and dropped a stack of books and papers onto the table with a heavy thud, the polished china rattling in protest. Nin froze mid-bite with wide eyes as another crumb slippedfrom her lip.
Cedric stared, pressing down on the sigh that threatened to escape. This was going to be a very long two weeks.
“A princess never has crumbs falling from her mouth like a savage boar,” he clipped.
Nin wiped her face with the back of her hand. “Good morning to you, too,” she muttered. “You almost seem more chipper than yesterday.”
Cedric ignored her and handed her the white cloth she had neglected on the table. “The napkin. Please.”
She took it and smeared it across her lips. Cedric exhaled a huff through his nose. “I will reserve dining lessons later. For now, we will start with the basics.”
Nin eyed the books warily. “Isallof that for me?”
“Yes. This is everything you need to learn—and more—within the next two weeks.”
Her throat bobbed, tension flickering across her face.
“We are here to help you,” Lucille said to Nin, her eyes flashing disapprovingly in his direction. “You won’t have to do it alone.”
Nin peered at the half-eaten croissant in her lap, as if pleading with the morsel to take on the task in her stead. Her fingers hovered around it protectively, her lips pursing.
“If it helps,” he said, retrieving a letter from the top of the stack, “your brother has already been taken care of. I had my most trusted men retrieve him this morning. He’s been moved to a private residence, with servants and a physician assigned to him. This letter is from your brother, confirming his state of care.”
“You… did this already?” she whispered.
Nin took the letter with parted lips, her hands trembling as she read it in silence. After a pause, she placed it over her heart.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you so much.”
Cedric nodded stiffly. “I’m a man of my word. Now… are you ready to begin?”
Nin tore a piece of the croissant and stuffed it in her mouth before reluctantly placing the rest on her plate. Standing, resolve kindled in her features as she planted one hand on her hip.
“Yes,” Nin said, “I’m ready!”
Cedric studied her for a moment, faintly acknowledging her determination with a raised brow. “As much as I appreciate your enthusiasm,” he said dryly, “we'll start with the simplest standards: how you speak.”
Nin crossed her arms over her chest. “Something wrong with how I talk?”
“The way you speak betrays you as an uncouth pauper,” he said, earning him a glare from Lucille.
Nin snorted, “Well, that’s exactly what I am!”
The corner of his mouth betrayed him. “And precisely what you must learn not to be.”
“Fine. Let’s get on with it,” she groaned.
Cedric pointed to the pink velvet settee where they could begin their lessons. She obliged, lounging back like a cat parodying a lazy drunk. His jaw ticked.
“Mademoiselle Nin,” Lucille interjected, stopping by the arm of the settee. She gestured in an upward motion, “Perhaps a little straighter?”
