Page 61 of The Love Potion
Kynthea had no choice now. Fortunately, she too had been trained since birth to perform the basic tasks of an aristocratic lady. She served the duke his tea (cream, no sugar), then Zoe (sugar, no cream), then was about to pour her own when the door knocker sounded.
It was the dowager duchess, and a more intimidating woman did not live in England. The woman swept in, frowned as everyone scrambled to their feet to greet her, then settled like a queen in the chair nearest her son.
“Late tea?” the woman asked.
“I prefer a casual schedule,” the duke responded.
“Hmmmm,” retorted his mother as her gaze hopped between Kynthea and Zoe. Oh hell. The woman wanted to know why Zoe wasn’t serving. She was about to explain when Kynthea solved the problem.
“You prefer lemon alone with your tea, correct, Your Grace?” she asked.
“Correct.”
And where Kynthea had learned that, she had no idea. Oh wait, of course she did. Zoe’s mother had told her that while Kynthea was in the room. Fortunately, her cousin had remembered. She poured and passed the drink, spilling not a single drop. Well done. Zoe always rushed the serving and spilled a little, but her cousin was deliberate in her actions. Personally, Zoe found such care exhausting, but Kynthea seemed to take to it naturally.
“Why is your hair wet?” the dowager demanded as she peered at Zoe.
“Mother, please. Lady Zoe is not here for an inquisition.”
“Ras—”
Zoe knew how to smooth this one over. “I was working with your son’s horses and begged the indulgence of a bath.”
“I offered it,” the duke corrected.
“And we were just talking about her ideas,” Kynthea interposed. “About the horses. Indeed, she learned about your father’s plans and would like to help His Grace implement them.”
The duke nodded. “I am most intrigued.”
Everyone, it seemed, fully supported the idea except for the most important one. The duchess pursed her lips and scowled. “That is not a proper activity for a lady.”
“Are you sure?” the duke countered. “Lady Zoe is quite accomplished at it. Even Barnes complimented her.”
The woman’s brows rose up to her hairline. “Indeed?” That did not sound like the woman approved. But then, she didn’t have to. Once Zoe married her son, Zoe would be able to say what a duchess did and did not do.
In fact, it was best to begin as she meant to go on. Or so her mother had always said. And she meant to be a duchess who managed a racing stable.
“Indeed,” she stated flatly. “My dowry will bring to the dukedom a pair of prized mares of impeccable bloodline. They will breed the next generation of racing stars, and I mean to be the one who sees it through. That involves daily work that is neither glamorous nor sweet smelling, but it does produce results.” She shrugged. “I’m afraid I will often arrive late to tea and with wet hair. But if His Grace doesn’t mind, I believe we shall get along quite well.”
She looked at the duke as she spoke and was pleased to see his lips curve in amusement. Indeed, her father had that exact look whenever she’d told one of his friends something clever about his horses. Zoe took it as a good sign.
Kynthea, of course, kept steady, neither blushing nor looking away. It would fall to her to smooth over any unpleasantries today and in the future. She likely had a half dozen new topics at the ready but knew better than the push them forward too soon. Especially as everyone waited for the duchess’s response.
“Well, that’s putting it bluntly.” To her credit, her tone was more thoughtful than critical.
Zoe smiled. “I find it best to speak my mind on matters that pertain to me.”
“And what of matters that pertain to my son?”
“Then he may choose to speak bluntly or not.”
It was a gamble to speak so tartly, especially to her future mother-in-law, but she had never been one to guard her tongue. Her cheeky response worked on the duke as it startled a laughout of him. He didn’t even bother to change it to a cough. Kynthea smiled because she was always kind. But the duchess was a different matter altogether.
The woman turned to her son. “She’s too young for you.”
Damn it. She should have taken the time to pin up her hair. But then she would have a soggy mass on her head and that always gave her a headache. She opened her mouth to object, but it was Kynthea who saved the day.
“She need not marry tomorrow, you know,” Kynthea offered, her voice cool. “An engagement could be announced soon, say at her presentation at court in a few weeks. But the actual nuptials could be delayed a year or more.”
