Peter had been informed to bring a tray of tea to the duchess and the viscount. That could only end in disaster. After the last time, Mr. Johnson had not given him any potentially dangerous duties; he had therefore been relegated to tasks such as cleaning large, almost unbreakable furniture, and carrying cold food and drink items. Never did he think he would regain the esteemed honour of serving hot tea.
“Everything will be just fine,” Mr. Johnson tried reassuring before he left.
Peter was not sure if he believed those words.
The duchess and the viscount spoke of the estate when he entered with the tray. The viscount continued chatting about the gardens, while the duchess's attention briefly turned to Peter. Briefly, she eyed him, and the tray, but returned to hearing about the gardens, but only she could be sure if she was truly listening.
One step at a time.
Peter made his way towards the table where they sat around, taking small steps while carefully balancing the weight of the tray of contents between his arms. Slowly, he lowered his torso and the tray onto the table, letting out a small sigh after that achievement. He wiped a drop of sweat that had formed on his forehead using the sleeve of his uniform before moving onto his next hurdle: pouring the tea without spilling it.
“You know Seren, I had assumed that Blackfall would be around. Spending the winter in the city is unheard of.”
“He’s busy.”
These were the parts of the conversation Peter had heard before he instinctively reminded himself that he should be doing his duty and not eavesdropping. He drowned out the rest of it.
Back to the tea.
Peter held the handle of the teapot using his dominant hand in a firm grasp, whilst his other hand supported the base of the teapot. Steadily, he poured the tea, serving the duchess first, since she outranked the viscount. The teacup seemed to take minutes to fill, but once it was over, it was over before he knew it.
He left the teapot and teacups on the table, only picking up the tray to return it. That was for the best. As soon as he stood upright, prepared to leave the room, the duchess’s voice disrupted him.
“Stop there,” she said.
He quickly turned to face her. “Can I help you, Your Grace…and My Lord?”
She studied him like a specimen. “What is your name?”
“Peter. Peter Knight, Duchess,” he stuttered.
“Alright. Thank you, Peter,” she said rather emotionlessly, dismissing him from the room.
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Apologies for the late update, I just went to sleep yesterday without uploading lmao
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YOU ARE READING
The Duchess
Historical FictionSeren Ferguson marries the Duke of Blackfall after becoming pregnant with his child. It is, by all accounts, a loveless marriage. Will their relationship improve, or will she find love elsewhere, in unexpected places, from unexpected people?
