does it properly." She shook her head and let out a short-tempered little puff of air, clearly lamenting the levels of intelligence commonly found in the servants.
Jack said nothing, deciding this would be as good a time as any to invoke his aunt's favorite axiom: If you can't say something nice, say nothing at all.
Although it was tempting to say something extraordinarily nice about the servants.
Grace returned, plate in hand, set it down in front of the dowager, and then gave it a little twist, turning the disk until the eggs were at nine o'clock, closest to the forks.
Jack watched the entire affair, first curious, then impressed. The plate had been divided into six equal, wedge-shaped sections, each with its own food selection. Nothing touched, not even the hollandaise sauce, which had been dribbled over the eggs with careful precision. "It's a masterpiece," he declared, arching forward. He was trying to see if she'd signed her name with the hollandaise.
Grace gave him a look. One that was not difficult to interpret.
"Is it a sundial?" he asked, all innocence.
"What are you talking about?" the dowager grumbled, picking up a fork.
"No! Don't ruin it!" he cried out - as best he could without exploding with laughter.
But she jabbed a slice of stewed apple all the same.
"How could you?" Jack accused.
Grace actually turned in her chair, unable to watch.
"What the devil are you talking about?" the dowager demanded. "Miss Eversleigh, why are you facing the window? What is he about?"
Grace twisted back around, hand over her mouth. "I'm sure I do not know."
The dowager's eyes narrowed. "I think you do know."
"I assure you," Grace said, "I never know what he is about."
"Never?" Jack queried. "What a sweeping comment. We've only just met."
"It feels like so much longer," Grace said.
"Why," he mused, "do I wonder if I have just been insulted?"
"If you've been insulted, you shouldn't have to wonder at it," the dowager said sharply.
Grace turned to her with some surprise. "That's not what you said yesterday."
"What did she say yesterday?" Mr. Audley asked.
"He is a Cavendish," the dowager said simply. Which, to her, explained everything. But she apparently held little faith in Grace's deductive abilities, and so she said, as one might speak to a child, "We are different."
"The rules don't apply," Mr. Audley said with a shrug. And then, as soon as the dowager was looking away, he winked at Grace. "What did she say yesterday?" he asked again.
Grace was not sure she could adequately paraphrase, given that she was so at odds with the overall sentiment, but she couldn't very well ignore his direct question twice, so she said, "That there is an art to insult, and if one can do it without the subject realizing, it's even more impressive."
She looked over to the dowager, waiting to see if she would be corrected. "It does not apply," the dowager said archly, "when one is the subject of the insult."
"Wouldn't it still be art for the other person?" Grace asked.
"Of course not. And why should I care if it were?" The dowager sniffed disdainfully and turned back to her breakfast. "I don't like this bacon," she announced.
"Are your conversations always this oblique?" Mr. Audley asked.
"No," Grace answered, quite honestly. "It has been a most exceptional two days."
No one had anything to add to that, probably because they were all in such agreement. But Mr. Audley did fill the silence by turning to the dowager and saying, "I found the bacon to be superb."
To that, the dowager replied, "Is Wyndham returned?"
"I don't believe so," Grace answered. She looked up to the footman. "Graham?"
"No, miss, he is not at home."
The dowager pursed her lips into an expression of irritated discontent. "Very inconsiderate of him."
"It is early yet," Grace said.
"He did not indicate that he would be gone all night."
"Is the duke normally required to register his schedule with his grandmother?" Mr. Audley murmured, clearly out to make trouble.
Grace gave him a peeved look. Surely this did not require a reply. He smiled in return. He enjoyed vexing her. This much was becoming abundantly clear. She did not read too much into it, however. The man enjoyed vexing everyone.
Grace turned back to the dowager. "I am certain he will return soon."
The dowager's expression did not budge in its irritation. "I had hoped that he would be here so that we might talk frankly, but I suppose we may proceed without him."
"Do you think that's wise?" Grace asked before she could stop herself. And indeed, the