Duke of the Beast and the Vicarious Bride - Chapter 75

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※ This work contains depictions of coercive relationships, explicit language, and other graphic content. Reader discretion is advised.

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Some days later, unable to bear the monotony any longer, Fiona made her way to the kitchens. She wished to see if there might be some small task she could undertake to pass the time.

All the maids from the count’s estate had departed, save Marie. Fortunately, the keep still retained a few servants for odd jobs and kitchen work. Thanks to them, neither Marie nor Fiona was obliged to cook for themselves.

“Mostly older women, past middle age,” Marie explained. “The keep needs little cleaning or repair, so their work is mainly kitchen duties and laundry. But… you truly wish to go down there?”

Whether she was wary of Jayden’s notice or deemed such a visit beneath the Grand Duchess’s station, Marie attempted to dissuade her.

“If I carry on like this, I shall go mad with boredom. If Jayden asks, you may tell him that.”

Fiona was already aware that Jayden kept himself informed of her every movement through Marie. The maid had confessed as much, conscience-stricken, but Fiona had suspected as much already. What use he could possibly make of knowledge concerning her tedious daily existence, she could not fathom.

In any case, despite Marie’s protests, Fiona descended to the kitchens.

Unsurprisingly, the kitchen staff regarded the sudden appearance of an unfamiliar visitor with considerable curiosity.

“Who might this young lady be? Captain, have you hired someone new?”

“The one at the back looks familiar, though. Wasn’t she a lady’s maid to someone high-born?”

To the chattering women, Marie introduced Fiona with a slightly uncomfortable expression.

“This is Her Highness, the Grand Duchess.”

That was her official title, at any rate, though this was the first time she had been presented as such. Most people she had encountered here knew her as the bastard bride selected to bear the Beast Grand Duke’s heir.

She felt a fresh pang of worry. Would they mock her for her rather shabby appearance, so unbefitting a Grand Duchess?

A woollen dress chosen for practicality over beauty. No jewellery, not even a trace of powder on her face. Her red hair, though brushed daily by Marie, had lost some of its lustre since her arrival at the count’s estate—frizzy and dishevelled, hardly the picture of a noble lady.

But her worries proved absurd. The women of the kitchen seemed entirely unconcerned with her attire or station.

“Ah, is that so? And what brings Her Highness the Grand Duchess to our humble kitchens? Has something displeased you about the food?”

According to Marie, the dozen or so kitchen women here were either of common birth or convicts serving time for minor offences, pressed into labour.

Perhaps that was why they carried themselves like people with little left to lose in life, unimpressed by Marie’s introduction of Fiona as the Grand Duchess.

“Captain, come here for a moment. We have a visitor.”

Far from any reverence for nobility, they chattered on noisily, each speaking as they pleased. For a fleeting moment, Fiona felt as though she had been transported back to her home village.

One of the women summoned what appeared to be the head of the kitchen—a middle-aged woman. The moment Fiona glimpsed her face, she faltered.

“You are…….”

Fiona prided herself on her keen eye for faces, and she was certain. This woman was unmistakably familiar.

Recognition came swiftly. She was the woman Jayden had brought to confirm Fiona’s deflowering.

“Were you not presented as a physician?”

The woman raised an eyebrow, as though surprised to be remembered.

“I would have thought you were too distracted to recall my face. I am Morin. Not precisely a physician—I act as a healer and midwife from time to time.”

“And you also manage the kitchen?”

“In a place like this, one cannot survive on a single occupation.”

True enough. Even counting the nearest villages, the number of birthing mothers in a year likely did not exceed ten. The military camp would have its own physicians brought from the capital, and commoners, who would patch themselves up as best they could, offered little custom for a healer.

Still, it was a strange run. Likely, when they had reclaimed this abandoned fortress, they had gathered labour however they could, with no thought for order or system.

Yet despite this, Fiona found herself rather liking the atmosphere. Their indifference to her station was, if anything, a relief.