Page 34 of A Virgin for the Duke of Scars
“You must be the new Duchess.”
Someone finally noticed her standing there.
Theresa blushed at the recognition, her new title still foreign to her ears. Instead of responding, she simply nodded.
“Is there something I can help you with?” She asked, wanting to at least feel useful.
The kitchen maids looked at her with wide eyes and shook their heads vehemently.
“Kitchen work is not for a lady of your station,” the cook said, her brow creased in confusion. “But thereissomething you can do for me, Your Grace. You can taste the dessert I plan to serve tonight.”
She plated a pastry topped with sweet red berries and passed her the plate.
The dough was light and fluffy, dusted with powdered sugar. Theresa’s eyes went wide at the idea of dessert so soon after breakfast.
Dessert was almost unheard of at the convent. Not on birthdays, but maybe on Christmas and Easter. It was a sinful indulgence that would lead them down a slippery slope where they would crave the things of the flesh.
Yet here she was, beingaskedto try something sweet.
She took one hesitant bite and closed her eyes as the sugar melted on her tongue. The berries’ slight tartness balanced the sweetness of the cream, the fluffiness of the pastry itself. She wolfed it down in a way that she realized was probably not ladylike.
The cook laughed at her reaction. “I assume it is to your liking?”
“It might be the best thing I have ever tasted,” Theresa admitted. “I would look forward to eating this again after supper.”
The cook’s face lit up at the compliment, and she took the plate from her. The only remnant of the dessert was the dusted sugar.
If Theresa had thought she could get away with it, she would have licked the plate clean, not leaving a speck behind.
“I should let you get back to your work,” she said.
“Your Grace is always welcome in the kitchens, though it would not do for you to spend so much time here. If you are so inclined, though, I can always use a taste tester,” she said.
Theresa thanked her and cast one last glance back at the pastries that remained on the cook’s tray before leaving. She was headed back to her suite, where she hoped to run into the maid who had been assigned to help her with her dressing.
She had worn this dress long enough today; the buttons were digging into her back. Her new wardrobe did not fit her perfectly. Some dresses were a bit too large, and others were too tight. She tended to favor tight over large, as the large ones might gape and violate her modesty.
“You’ve returned to your chambers early, Your Grace,” the maid said, surprised when she turned around.
She had been changing the bed linens when Theresa walked in unannounced.
“What is your name?”
“Emma, Your Grace.” The maid bobbed a brief curtsy. “Can I help you with something?”
“You can help me get out of this awful dress.”
Theresa turned around and lifted her hair from the nape of her neck to expose the thin line of buttons down her spine. Emma obliged her, opening the buttons with skilled fingers.
Theresa wondered if she would ever be able to do the same. The nuns’ dresses were so simple, so plain. Nothing like the intricate gowns the ladies of thetonwore.
“You are here to help me, are you not?” She asked, a sly smile on her lips.
“Of course, Your Grace. Whatever you need.”
“Could you please bring me some pastries from the kitchens after my nap?” Her face lit up at the prospect of tasting more of the sweets she had been so long deprived of. “The cook will know what I like.”
“As you wish, Your Grace,” Emma said with a curtsy.
