The Mad, Bad Duke (Nvengaria #2)(47)
“Marcus. Outlandish names for servants, but they are Nvengarian. They speak very little English, except Gaius, who speaks some, but you can make yourself understood with gestures. They are to fetch and carry for you anything you need.”
The three Nvengarians flourished grand bows in Meagan’s direction. Meagan remembered Prince Damien’s very enthusiastic footmen and smiled. “I speak very little Nvengarian and must learn it. I believe we’ll struggle along together.”
Nikolai spoke rapidly behind her, translating. The three footmen, black haired, blue eyed, and very young, laughed and bowed again. One said something to his fellows, setting them off, and Nikolai laughed behind him. A word from Alexander silenced them all, but she noted the Nvengarians did not look abashed.
Next was another maid who would help Susan with Meagan’s clothes, gloves, and accessories. The two girls eyed each other jealously. Next came an English coachman whose employment would be to drive Meagan in the carriage Alexander had provided, and an English groom, who would take care of her horses and ride out with her. Nikolai, in addition to his valet duties, would help Meagan understand and follow Nvengarian protocol.
Mrs. Caldwell stepped back to her place, the introductions at an end.
The entire line swiveled eyes to Meagan and the servants waited expectantly. Alexander watched her too. She realized after a frozen moment that they expected her to make a speech.
“Oh, um, well.” Meagan resisted twisting her fingers together like a girl. “It is nice to meet you, and I hope we get along swimmingly.”
They waited, leaning the slightest bit toward her, then blinked when they realized nothing more was coming.
One of the Nvengarian footmen shot his fist into the air and gave a rousing shout. The other two footmen and Nikolai and Dominic joined in the answering shout. They did this five times, loud male voices reverberating from the gilded ceiling. The groom and coachman joined in enthusiastically, but Susan put her hands over her ears, and Mrs. Caldwell openly grimaced.
Gaius thumped his fist to his chest and declared something in a ringing voice. The second and third footmen followed suit.
“What are they saying?” Meagan asked in bewilderment.
“That they are proud and honored to serve you,” Alexander said, his voice rumbling beside her. “That they would die for you.”
Meagan looked up at him in alarm. “Die for me?”
Alexander gave her a quiet nod. “As is their duty, and their right.”
Nikolai broke in. “We would all gladly die for you.” Beyond him, Dominic nodded silently. “We would lay our bleeding bodies at your feet,” Nikolai went on, “to show you how much you are honored and adored.”
Mrs. Caldwell looked pained. Alexander traced distracting patterns at the base of Meagan’s spine.
“Oh,” Meagan said. “Oh, dear.”
* * *
Supper commenced soon after that. A quiet, simple supper, Mrs. Caldwell explained, showing Meagan the menu. Reading course after course, Meagan wondered, if this was simple, what on earth the woman considered an elaborate meal.
She was also expected to change her clothing yet again. She had thought the green silk to be plenty fine for a supper dress, but both Susan and Mrs. Caldwell looked horrified and said it would not do at all. Susan and the other maid bustled her into a shimmering silver silk with a fine black net overdress, and Susan wove a rope of pearls studded with diamonds through Meagan’s hair.
Meagan asked directions to the dining room, which fortunately was simply called The Dining Room, and entered to find Alexander waiting for her.
This chamber was as vast as any other in the house and just as intimidating. Four thick marble pillars soared to a ceiling with pointed arches. Enormous paintings on the walls depicted men in Roman dress battling other men in Roman dress. Horses reared and fell in an abundance of horseflesh and blood.
The long dining table stretched beneath the paintings, loaded with silver dishes that matched the silver on the equally enormous sideboard. Eight chairs marched down each side of the table, and gilded armchairs stood at either end.
Alexander, resplendent once more in military coat, medals, and sash, the ruby in his ear winking fire, escorted her to the chair at the far end of the table. The Nvengarian footmen she’d met earlier waited there, and three similarly dressed Nvengarians waited at Alexander’s end.
Alexander pulled out the chair. Meagan sank to it, then two of the Nvengarians shoved it to the table while the third presented her a napkin laid across his arm. Alexander let his fingers drift over the back of Meagan’s bared neck, then he returned to the other side of the table, where his footmen presented his chair and a napkin to him.
Meagan stared in some dismay at the array of cutlery and dishes spread before her. Three plates were stacked on top of each other, with several crystal goblets lined up beside them. One of the footmen carefully placed the first course on the top plate, a thin cutlet of fish in some buttery sauce. The footman on the other side, Gaius, lifted one of the many forks that surrounded her stack of plates and handed it to her.
The haughty Montmorency entered bearing bottles of wine. He handed a bottle to one of Meagan’s footmen, who sloshed a huge amount into the largest of her goblets. At precisely the same time, Alexander’s footman served wine at his end of the table.
Alexander calmly began eating as though the machinations of his servants were in no way unusual. Meagan plucked up a tiny piece of sole with her fork and raised it to her lips. She did not much like fish, but she could hardly scorn the first offering of the very first meal in her new husband’s house.