“Yes, Your Grace.” Mrs. Piper picked up the accounts book and led the way.
Bridget had taken over the management of her father’s townhouse and the manor in Kent after her mother’s death, but that still did not prevent her from finding the management of a castle daunting, and she would need Mrs. Piper and Belinda’s help.
The kitchens were very busy when they arrived, and a man with round features was barking instructions, which led her to believe that he was the cook. The orders immediately ceased when he saw them.
“Monsieur Paquin, meet the duchess,” Mrs. Piper introduced.
“It is an honor to meet you, Your Grace.” He bowed. “And welcome to Grayfield Castle.” His speech was accented, not artfully, and she realized that her husband had not been jesting when he said, ‘Only the best in an old castle.’
“Thank you, Monsieur.” She smiled. “I wish to discuss the menu with you.”
“Today’s menu, Your Grace?” he asked.
“The entire menu. I found some of the dishes, especially the sauces, requiring more salt.” She thought the food required more than just salt, but she would offer that critique at a later time to remain gracious, after all, it was hardly his fault if no one had brought the matter to hand.
“Oh, the duke does not like salt, Your Grace,” Paquin said.
“And the vegetables? He prefers them overcooked?” she asked.
“Yes, Your Grace. He wishes for them to be very soft.”
Bridget was already finding this conversation a challenge. “Could you introduce more flavors to the dish, then?” she asked, deciding not to wait to reveal her true feelings toward the dishes.
Monsieur Paquin gave her a worried frown. “The duke will not approve.”
Then what the devil will the duke approve?she wanted to snap. Instead, she took a slow breath and smiled. “Let us discuss dessert. What is the duke’s favorite?”
“Blancmange, Your Grace.” When he did not say more, she raised a brow. “Only blancmange,” he added.
It would appear that her husband lacked a commendable taste in food. “Very well, Monsieur. You may keep the duke’s menu, and we shall have a different one for myself and Lady Belinda.”
Paquin began to grin. “Your Grace. I have many suggestions that you will love.” He moved to a chest of drawers, retrieving a book from the bottom one. “This is my recipe book, and it contains recipes from around the world. With your permission, I would like to show you my talent.”
Rescue a cook whose talents are wasting, Bridget added to her mental list. “I would love to see your talent, Monsieur,” she said, taking a seat at a table.
She spent the next hour perusing the recipes and selecting what she desired for her and Belinda’s menu.
“The duke will not be joining us tonight, will he?” Bridget asked flatly as she took her seat in the dining room.
“I fear so, my dear,” Belinda replied, taking hers.
This needs to stop,she thought, deciding that she would seek him out after the meal. Sarah had taken great pains in ensuring she looked beautiful tonight in a midnight blue velvet dress with a low neckline, a string of pearls to grace her neck, and tiny pearls in her hair.
He was not there to see it, which angered Bridget, and she could not decide if her friend’s wasted effort annoyed her more than his absence. She was inclined to believe he was doing this just to provoke her. If not that, then he was sorely in want of good manners.
“Goodness!” Belinda suddenly uttered, dipping her spoon into the white soup before her. “This is the most delicious soup I have ever tasted.”
“It is from the new menu,” Bridget said.
“I did not know that Monsieur Paquin was in possession of such great culinary talent.”
“Well, he was not given the opportunity.”
Belinda shook her head ruefully, then brightened. “Well, all of that is changing.” She was very generous with her praises of Paquin throughout the meal, and Bridget was glad she had not delayed her intervention.
Once the meal was over, she asked, “Where do you think the duke will be at this time?”
“He spends a lot of time in his study,” Belinda replied. “I believe I will retire early tonight.”