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“Are you sure?” the duke countered. “Lady Zoe is quite accomplished at it. Even Barnes complimented her.”

The woman’s brows rose up to her hairline. “Indeed?” That did not sound like the woman approved. But then, she didn’t have to. Once Zoe married her son, Zoe would be able to say what a duchess did and did not do.

In fact, it was best to begin as she meant to go on. Or so her mother had always said. And she meant to be a duchess who managed a racing stable.

“Indeed,” she stated flatly. “My dowry will bring to the dukedom a pair of prized mares of impeccable bloodline. They will breed the next generation of racing stars, and I mean to be the one who sees it through. That involves daily work that is neither glamorous nor sweet smelling, but it does produce results.” She shrugged.

“I’m afraid I will often arrive late to tea and with wet hair.

But if His Grace doesn’t mind, I believe we shall get along quite well. ”

She looked at the duke as she spoke and was pleased to see his lips curve in amusement. Indeed, her father had that exact look whenever she’d told one of his friends something clever about his horses. Zoe took it as a good sign.

Kynthea, of course, kept steady, neither blushing nor looking away.

It would fall to her to smooth over any unpleasantries today and in the future.

She likely had a half dozen new topics at the ready but knew better than the push them forward too soon.

Especially as everyone waited for the duchess’s response.

“Well, that’s putting it bluntly.” To her credit, her tone was more thoughtful than critical.

Zoe smiled. “I find it best to speak my mind on matters that pertain to me.”

“And what of matters that pertain to my son?”

“Then he may choose to speak bluntly or not.”

It was a gamble to speak so tartly, especially to her future mother-in-law, but she had never been one to guard her tongue.

Her cheeky response worked on the duke as it startled a laugh out of him.

He didn’t even bother to change it to a cough.

Kynthea smiled because she was always kind.

But the duchess was a different matter altogether.

The woman turned to her son. “She’s too young for you.”

Damn it. She should have taken the time to pin up her hair. But then she would have a soggy mass on her head and that always gave her a headache. She opened her mouth to object, but it was Kynthea who saved the day.

“She need not marry tomorrow, you know,” Kynthea offered, her voice cool. “An engagement could be announced soon, say at her presentation at court in a few weeks. But the actual nuptials could be delayed a year or more.”

A year or more would put a crimp in her plans for the horses, but she could adjust. Especially if it soothed her future mother-in-law and delayed her time in the marriage bed. Besides, couldn’t an engaged woman take control of the stable? If the duke allowed it?

But the duchess was not assuaged. “My son needs an heir now.”

“I’m hardly about to expire, Mother.”

No. It was her father whose days were numbered. “I am young and healthy,” she inserted forcefully. “I will do my duty with regards to the ducal nursery.” She arched her brow as if she weren’t shaking inside. “As soon as you like.”

This time, the duke did cough. Clearly, he was uncomfortable discussing that aspect of married life with his mother. Well, his mother had brought up an heir, so he couldn’t blame her. Instead, he offered his mother some cut bread with a wry expression.

“These are quite delicious, today. Would you like to try one?”

His mother sniffed. “What are they?”

“I have no—”

“Grated carrot and raisin bread,” Zoe said. “It was originally Kynthea’s recipe, but I improved on it.”

The lady frowned at the neatly cut triangle. “You brought food to a duke’s home?”

“I, uh, brought it to see if His Grace might enjoy it.” Because she’d wanted to show the duke that she had skills other than with horses. She could see now that it might be interpreted as rude. “I enjoy baking,” she said, realizing how silly that would sound, coming from a future duchess.

The lady waved Zoe to silence. “We have an excellent cook.” Then she took a careful bite. “Hmph,” she commented, as if that meant anything. Then she added, “But I cannot understand why our chef allowed strange food into the house.”

“I hardly think she was trying to poison me,” the duke said. “And I do find them quite tasty.” He took another slice for himself.

Excellent.

And while Zoe was enjoying his praise, the duke offered the plate to Kynthea. She took a slice in one hand, then bit down, her eyes closing in appreciation. “It tastes like home,” she murmured. “Only better.”

“I can barely fathom all that you have lost,” he said. He spoke the words softly, his attention riveted to Kynthea’s face. She looked away, her shoulders stiff.

Zoe watched, her brows tightening. Even Zoe could see that the duke had a great deal of affection for Kynthea. So, too, could the duchess as her eyes widened with surprise.

He couldn’t possibly be developing a tendre for Kynthea, could he? She bit her lip as she thought of all the time he and her cousin had spent together. And that most people adored Kynthea once they got to know her.

Which meant that, of course, the duke’s affection had been engaged.

And how stupid was she to have not seen it before?

Damn, damn, damn! She wasn’t averse to the idea.

Given Kynthea’s social disasters, becoming a demirep was one of her cousin’s best options.

And being a duke’s mistress would keep her in society.

But why, why, why did she have to try for the one man Zoe needed to attach?

“Miss Petrelli, is it?” the duchess barked. And it was a bark, sharp and loud akin to the sound small yapping dogs made.

“Your Grace?” Kynthea responded.

“Can you tell me why Mr. Pickleherring has made you his target?”

Kynthea didn’t show offense at the harsh demand. It was never good for a lady in her position to openly flout a duchess. The duke, on the other hand, was clearly angered on her behalf.

“No,” he said. And he punctuated the word by pushing to his feet.

“What?” cried his mother, insult reverberating in the word.

He smiled genially as he held out his hand to Kynthea. “I said no, Mother. I wanted you to meet these ladies, and now you have. But it’s a lovely day. I thought we could all go for a stroll. I am sure Lady Zoe wants to check on the horses again. She gave Barnes quite a few instructions.”

Actually, that was true.

“And Miss Petrelli hasn’t seen the gardens in back.”

“But what about tea?” his mother asked.

“Hmm? Well, you’re welcome to have more. As for me, I’m itching to go outside.”

And what were any of them to do but follow the man as he directed? They all abandoned their tea and bread to stroll out in the gardens which were small compared to some estates, but stunning nonetheless.

The conversation remained genial. With the duke’s prompting, Kynthea offered several ideas for medicinal plants.

She’d learned of them because she’d had the care of her parents during their illnesses, but swore that they would grow nicely here.

Zoe made her suggestions for beautiful plants.

She’d memorized them in case of exactly this kind of discussion.

But flowers were not her forte, and the duchess was quick to dismiss her.

“Everyone likes roses,” the woman drawled.

“Just because they’re popular, doesn’t make them any less beautiful,” Kynthea said.

“Well put,” enthused the duke. Indeed, he had been enthusiastic about everything Kynthea did and said. And now Zoe had no choice but to recognize the truth.

Kynthea was her favorite person outside of her parents. She was her friend, her confidante, and the kindest soul on the planet. She was also, Zoe suddenly realized, her rival.