If Delphine had a favorite relative, it would definitely be Uncle Nicolas’ son, François. The two had always been close, but being based in different parts of the world interfered with that. By the time she settled into the life in Paris and then London, François was already head of Launceston. Seeing him as often as she did was not an option. When she first heard that Fran’s in London, she immediately invited him up to the house, clearly very excited to have someone to talk to other than her bodyguard who had not been in her good graces for a couple of weeks now.
After smoothing their respective schedules over, her cousin finally found the time to come over for lunch. Being a perfectionist, Delphine meticulously planned the reunion, carefully planning out the menu, the roses, and the rosé. Delphine was giving her poulet confit the final baste when her housekeeper came into the kitchen to announce Françoiis’ arrival. “Monsieur St. Clair for you, madam.”
“Thank you, Ilsa. François, give me a second,” she told her cousin from behind the stove before letting Ilsa take over the basting so she could give her cousin a proper welcome. “Ça fait longtemps. Trop longtemps. How have you been, mon frére?”
@francois-st-clair