Chapter Seven – Continued
Muriel gritted her teeth, as though asking how Camille and Andalissa could possibly know each other was the very last thing she ever wanted to do. “The Duchess would like to come round and have tea here with you.”
Camille looked thoughtful. “Yes, that makes the most sense. Her birthday is coming up, so I imagine Murant Manor must be in quite a flurry. It’s very difficult to bring in fresh flowers in the middle of winter. I’m sure they must be expecting a fae any day now to help out. I’ll send a response as soon as I can.” She smiled. “It would be terrible manners to not respond to the king’s niece right away.”
Knowing Muriel could not and would not refuse a request from the Duchess Murant, Camille tilted her head slightly and dipped a small curtsy before turning and escaping before Muriel could think of anything to say.
Tempering her stride, Camille headed straight for her rooms to dash off a quick response. She smiled as she wrote, inviting her old friend to tea the next day. She knew Helene would be delighted to put together a tea set. It had been far too long since they’d hosted anyone other than mourners and wedding guests. For some reason, Muriel never had anyone over and no requests or invitations from the nobility. But it was not something Camille bothered to ponder.
She found Geoffrey poking around in the kitchens, trying his best to not hover around Abigail so much. He, just liked everyone else, always seemed to fuss over Abigail. But, since there wasn’t anything he could do to serve Camille since Muriel was treating her like a servant, he had taken to posting himself within easy access of Abigail.
It wasn’t something Abigail was pleased with, if Camille was reading her sister’s brief glares over at the corner Geoffrey was squeezing himself into. A tall, lanky fellow with graying hair, he still didn’t fit into corners any more than any other person would. It didn’t stop him from trying, especially of late with Muriel storming around in clouds of fabric.
Geoffrey quickly straightened and came to attention as Camille approached him. She gave him a fond peck on the cheek before coming to stand beside him, her own eyes resting on where Abigail was teaching Madeline how to knead dough.
“I’m assuming Abigail has been glaring daggers,” Camille said, a soft smile on her lips as she watched Abigail correct Madeline’s hand placement.
“I don’t know what else to do,” Geoffrey said fretfully. “The Count hired me to look after you and your sister. The new Countess would have my head if she caught me helping you, so I must look after Miss Abigail.”
“Well,” Camille said, proffering the small envelope. “I do have a task for you. Could you run this over to the Duchess Murant? She and I would like to have tea here tomorrow.”
Geoffrey’s face brightened as he accepted the envelope into his gloved hand. He offered her a bow. “I would be delighted, Miss Camille. It’ll be so good to have the Duchess here again. Will the Duke also be taking tea with you?”
“Doubtful. It just said the Duchess would like to come by.”
Geoffrey nodded before bowing and leaping away.
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