Chapter 520
[ 525 words ]
Chapter 520:
The lighthearted moment faded, not shattered, as Caroline noticed the places that had not been set. Two chairs along the left side of the table remained conspicuously empty, their settings removed entirely. No Chanel suit. No brittle smile. No poisonous little laugh. Cornelia and Harper were not coming. The General’s order had not softened with sunset.
Peregrine, a thundercloud of resentment, slumped into the chair at the farthest end of the table, as far from the center of power as he could get. He immediately put his earbuds in, sealing himself off.
The General did not look at him. “Take those out.”
Peregrine’s jaw tightened. For one reckless second, it looked as if he might refuse. Then, with a vicious jerk of his hand, he pulled the earbuds free and dropped them beside his plate.
The General cleared his throat, a sound like distant thunder. “Let us begin,” he commanded.
A small army of uniformed staff emerged from the kitchens, moving with silent, practiced efficiency. Plates were set, water glasses filled.
Then Agnes entered, carrying a large, steaming ceramic tureen. She placed it reverently in the center of the table. It was the beef stew.
The rich, complex aroma of slow-cooked beef, wine, and herbs filled the room. It was a warm, comforting, honest smell in a room that had learned too well how to lie. Even Peregrine, trying very hard to look bored, wrinkled his nose, his senses stirred by the scent.
𝘉𝖾 p𝘢𝘳𝗍 o𝖿 оu𝗋 𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗺𝘂𝗻𝘪𝗍𝘆 о𝗇 𝘨a𝗅𝗻o𝘃е𝗅𝗌.𝘤𝗼𝘮
The General rubbed his hands together in anticipation. He took the silver ladle from Agnes and served himself a generous portion. He lifted a spoonful to his lips, chewed slowly, and closed his eyes in a moment of pure, unadulterated bliss.
“Magnificent,” he declared, his voice booming with satisfaction. “Absolutely magnificent. The best thing I’ve eaten in a decade.”
The praise, so effusive and so clearly directed at Caroline, made her cheeks warm. She looked down at her bowl, embarrassed by the sudden attention.
No one mocked her for it. No one dared. The empty chairs did the speaking.
Peregrine glanced at the tureen, then at Caroline, his expression sour. “So this is what we do now?” he muttered. “Hold state dinners for stew?”
Alistair’s eyes sharpened.
The General lifted his gaze slowly. “Careful, boy.”
Peregrine leaned back in his chair, hostility radiating from every line of his body. “What? I said the food smells nice.”
“That is not what you meant.”
A tense silence settled over the table. The staff froze at the edges of the room, their heads bowed, trying to become invisible.
Caroline set her spoon down gently. The soft click of silver against porcelain drew every eye to her.
“It’s all right,” she said. Her voice was calm, almost mild. “If Peregrine dislikes the ceremony, I understand. Food tastes different when it comes from someone you’ve decided to hate.”
Peregrine’s eyes snapped to hers.
She met his stare across the long expanse of polished wood. There was no anger on her face. Only a calm, pitying, devastatingly elegant composure.
“I’m happy to cook for my family,” she continued. “I enjoy creating something of value with my own hands.”
Her smile was small, but it landed like a blade.
“And unlike resentment, dinner actually nourishes people.”
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