hand, avoiding the brotherly embrace Rupert sought. "Hello, Rupert. Allow me to present Madame Micheline Tevoulere, my future wife."
"What? What?! Did I hear correctly? Wife?" Letting out a rather manic laugh, he turned to Micheline. "Bun-jar! Ha-ha, as they say in France, what? Well, well, I must say, this is a surprise!"
Somehow she managed to disguise her true reaction, smiling instead and replying, "It is a pleasure to meet you, M'sieur Topping."
"I say!" Rupert ejaculated, peering up at Sandhurst. "She speaks English! Well done, old boy!" He then turned to grab Micheline's hand and kissed it wetly. "None of this mon-seer folderol for us! I'm family, after all! You must call me Rupert and I'll call you Micheline."
At that point she could not resist a bit of mischief. "How sweet of you, Roo-pair!"
He stared, then laughed nervously. "Perhaps you ought to practice that a bit, Micheline. In England we say Rupert."
Andrew wanted to turn and leave right then, taking Micheline with him, but the servants were entering with platters of food. "I'm ravenous," he said. "Let's sit down."
They took their places, with Sandhurst at the head of the table and Micheline and Rupert on either side, facing each other. Wine was poured, followed by mussel and fennel stew with dumplings.
"How different the food is here!" marveled Micheline after her first bite of dumpling.
Sandhurst smiled fondly. Her hair, set a-sparkle by the sun, tumbled down to frame an exquisitely lovely face. At that moment, however, his favorite feature was Micheline's right cheek, which bulged out because of the dumpling she could not bear to swallow.
"You look adorable!" he chuckled. "Try to get that bite down, fondling, and then I'd advise you to try a slightly less adventurous approach to any foods you don't recognize. You mustn't expect to become English in one day!"
The affection in Sandhurst's eyes made Micheline feel giddy. She forgot all else, swallowing the dumpling with ease, then realized what had happened and joined in his gentle laughter.
"You mean to say that there are no dumplings in France?" Rupert appeared genuinely distressed by that possibility. "Lucky thing I hate traveling! Couldn't live without my dumplings!"
Remembering Rupert's nerve-racking French accent, Micheline wanted to say that his unwillingness to leave home was lucky for France as well, but she held her tongue.
Sandhurst, meanwhile, gave his half brother a sharp sidelong glance. "That reminds me. Why are you here, Rupert? It really wasn't necessary for you to come all the way from Yorkshire just to call on me...."
A salad of purslane, tarragon, and watercress was served, then fresh pink shrimp, and pike with gooseberry sauce. Rupert tasted everything before replying. "I'd travel any distance to call on you, Sandhurst! You know that! I'd go to any lengths, suffer any hardship, if it meant that—"
"I know, I know. Spare me the discourse on your familial devotion and tell me why you're in London."
"Well, well..." Rupert shifted uneasily in his chair and darted a look at Micheline. "You see, the duke sent me south to find out what's happened to you. He was rather concerned that you might have, uh—flown the coop, if you take my meaning."
"Fine. Now you can return to Aylesbury Castle and tell him that I only 'flew' as far as France. I wanted to meet Madame Tevoulere before sentencing her to a lifetime of my company. Fortunately for me, the lady seems to like me well enough." Micheline laughed softly and reached out to touch his cheek. He caught her hand and held it before adding dryly, "I'm certain that Father will be vastly relieved to learn how happy I am with the arrangement."
"Oh, yes, I'm sure he will!" Rupert nodded antically. "He's been brooding awfully about this, imagining that you were plotting some scheme to undo all his plans, but I did my very best to reassure him! I've always taken your side, Sandhurst, since you're never there to defend yourself."
"I've told you before that I'd rather you wouldn't."
"God's toes, I'll be so happy when Lent is over!" Rupert was exclaiming. "Fish, fish, fish! Not that you haven't got a fine cook, Sandhurst, but I'm sick to death of the stuff. The castle gamekeeper brought down a magnificent red deer last week, and we've all been salivating in anticipation!"
Sandhurst met Micheline's eyes, his brows flicking upward almost imperceptibly. A serving girl appeared with a covered dish of spinach fritters, one of which Micheline tasted tentatively. Under a fried batter, she discovered a mixture of spinach, bread crumbs, egg,