Ahmet knew how to behave around men. Growing up with four sisters (and two of them working with him) had not prepared him for this. Going to school in Constantinople as an outlier among men and women had not prepared him for this. Going to an all-boys’ school in Germany had certainly not prepared him for this, either.

Nor had the kitchens. Working class women were an entirely different species. For one, using the wrong turn of phrase in front of one wasn’t reputation suicide.

Working class women didn’t usually blush at a single look, either.

If there was a class on how to handle his employer’s unmarried daughter invading the kitchen, he hadn’t taken it.

(To his chagrin, he would later learn that the butler had received actual training in similar matters... and was mortified Armel had not.)

Ms. Wunderlich seemed abated for the time being.

“Oh, Eleanor,” she laughed, her good cheer returning. “Don’t let her fool you – she’s so humble.”

Ms. Wunderlich sung praise about the younger McPadraic sister, and Ahmet kept quiet for the most part. He put a tea kettle on a few minutes later, with a quieting charm over it. On the center counter, he set a teapot, jar of what looked to be flowers, and two cups down.

Not a crumb was out of place when he took the cookies out, and the kettle had just started to steam. He magic’d the cookies onto a serving plate and set it by the tea.

“Sugar? Cream?”

  

Alexandra watched, listened, nodded and comment when need as her tutor went on about her youngest sister, glad that she seemed to get over her mood rather quickly. But as much as she loved her sister, it got tiresome rather quickly. Her gaze once more ended up on the chef, but she made sure to look back at Nadia often enough it wouldn’t get picked up on. Making it look like she was only looking at him when a sound was made.

The sigh of relief was held in when ‘their’ conversation was broken.

“Do you have any honey?” she asked in English, needing a break from converting words to and from German.

  

---

Blah blah blah, such a promising young woman, blah blah, something about tomatoes in some guy’s eyes? Whoop, already onto the atrocious Floo hours.

Her eyes slid to Mr. Koch at one point when she noticed Miss McPadraic looking, then lowered her voice with a conspiring look.

“Don’t out-eat the cook,” she said in French.

Then, with a false smile:

“Sugar, please!”

Mr. Koch put two plates down and summoned the honey and sugar, setting them by the tea.

“Bon apetit,” he said with a polite smile.

There was something strange about the way he said it: too fast, emphasis on the end rather than the beginning. He sounded more like a native Englishman than Frenchman, and one merely needed hear him speak to know he was no Englishman.

“Will that be all?”

  

“Whatever do you mean?” She lowered her own to reply in French, giving Nadia a confused look. Alex was just being her normal curious self.

When he spoke, she looked at him in confusion instead. Where did his lie start? Could he actually speak French at all? All of this was just to inviting, and it would all end up with getting her in trouble.

Instead of answering, she busied herself with fixing her tea the way she liked it. There was no way she could let this go, but she had overstepped more then enough for one night. Any more and the tutor would probably go telling.

  

---

“It is rude,” she murmured with a small smile that suggested she had no problem with that.

If the kitchen wasn’t clean before they left, it would be his hide on the line – possibly thanks to Miss McPadraic herself. The household he’d worked for in Germany had been, well. Memorable. And so he remained, making himself busy in one way or another. Overly thoroughly checking the stove. Putting everything back by hand and turning all the container labels to face in exactly the same direction.

Ms. Wunderlich was taking her time stirring her tea and gossiping, intermittently between French and German now.

There was a glance from Mr. Koch back at them, though he said nothing. Instead, he started preparing some sort of dough while they ate and drank. Might as well get started on things that needed to set, and it was faster to do without having to train someone.

  

Alexandra let her tutor talk on, silently enjoying her tea and snack. Her head almost tied in place, making sure her gaze never turned from the woman. She played the part of lady, and she was over it very quickly.

Once done, she neatly stacked her dishes before standing. “I’m going to turn in. Goodnight Mrs. Wunderlich.”

On her way out she turned to him and gave a light smile. “Goodnight Mr Koch, and thank you for the cookies.”

  

---

Mrs. Wunderlich paused a moment, digesting the words in addition to the cookies.

“Gute night, Miss McPadraic.”

She left her dishes as she finished them – household staff had to be kept useful, after all.

Ahmet looked up from stacking Ms. Wunderlich’s into an easier to transport pile.

“My pleasure,” he said neutrally.

There was, after all, no polite way to say ‘I’ve got shit to do, lady’. Not even in English.

“Goodnight, Miss McPadraic.”

He was careful not to let his gaze linger.