His mother clasped her hands together, a gentle smile on her face. “Shall we adjourn to the dining room?”
“Yes, let us,” his father agreed with a nod.
Winston followed his family into the dining room and sat down at the long, rectangular table.
The footmen stepped forward with practiced precision, placing bowls of soup in front of them. Winston reached for his spoon and started eating, hoping to be a silent observer for the time being.
Unfortunately, his mother had other ideas.
She turned her attention towards Winston. “How was your carriage ride with Mattie, my dear?”
“It went well,” he said vaguely, hoping to deflect her interest. With any luck, his mother would end her line of questioning, allowing him to continue eating in peace.
“Wonderful,” his mother praised, her smile broadening. “I have no doubt that Mattie will create quite a stir amongst theton.”
Winston’s gaze dropped to his soup. He didn’t want to have this conversation, especially not now. Why did he care if Mattie had a line of suitors? He didn’t. She was free to do as she pleased, and she could marry whomever she so desired. Yet, despite his attempts to remain indifferent, he felt his jaw clench tightly, a muscle below his ear beginning to pulsate. The reaction was unwanted and confusing.
Fortunately, his mother shifted her focus to Elodie and Melody. “Shall we go around the table and say one thing that we have learned recently?”
As if on cue, Melody groaned. “I do not like this game. I never quite know what to say.”
His father spoke up. “Neither do I, but your mother enjoys this particular game. I will start.” He paused, a thoughtful expression on his face. “It has been said that Napoleon wrote a romance book.”
“That is true,” Melody responded eagerly. “It is calledClisson etEugénie. It is about a young soldier and his relationship with a woman.”
“You haven’t read it, have you?” his father asked.
Melody shrugged. “I have, in fact. It was poorly written, but it wasn’t as awful as I thought it would be.”
His father did not look pleased. “Where did you find this book?”
“It was in our boarding school’s library,” Melody replied. “I suppose my interesting fact is that despite being a work of fiction, many accepted that Napoleon’s book paralleled his own relationship with Eugénie Désirée Clary.”
Elodie shifted her gaze towards her mother. “Is it my turn?”
“I suppose so,” she replied.
With animated hands, Elodie shared, “I have been reading up on the Royal Menagerie in the Tower of London and I learned the most fascinating thing. A scientist named John Hunter disproved the rumor that ostriches are able to eat and digest iron.”
“Why would someone give ostriches iron?” his father asked, looking puzzled.
“I don’t know, but two birds had already died from being fed iron,” Elodie responded.
As she finished her words, Grady stormed intothe dining room, his eyes wide with urgency. He met Winston’s gaze directly. “My lord, I must speak to you.”
White turned towards Grady, and in a stern rebuke, said, “Footmen do not request audiences with anyone.”
“Then I quit,” Grady announced, not bothering to spare the butler a glance. His voice grew even more determined. “My lord, it is most urgent.”
Winston tipped his head. “Very well,” he said, assuming this interruption was about Isaac. “We can speak in the corridor.”
Once they were alone in the corridor, Winston turned to face Grady. “What is it?”
In a low voice, Grady said, “I was following Isaac, per your request, and he is having supper with Lord Wythburn and Miss Bawden as we speak.”
“What?!” Winston shouted, his voice echoing down the corridor.
Grady nodded. “Isaac has taken up residency in the Stewarts’ old cottage and took it upon himself to visit Lord Wythburn.”
