Author's Note: This is just a little bit of fluff as a birthday present to Evi, aka Shestoosazytologin, without whom, this series might never have been written. She was the first to hear my vague ideas about A Scandalous Match and told me I had to write it. She has also told me I had to write a fic from the servants' POV because they were clearly in the know about their employers feelings. And here we are. Happy Birthday Evi! 3

In order to have any clue what's going on, you have to have read A Scandalous Match, the first fic in this series. This, however, can be read before or after A Scandalous Decision. This is really just a series of (sometimes very) short scenes, but as usual, this became much longer than I expected so I've broken it into two chapters. Chapter two will be posted tomorrow, if you're American, or later today if you're in Europe. XD

Chapter 1

Mrs. Phasma walked into the servant dining hall and clapped her hands. Conversations halted as everyone looked up at the no-nonsense housekeeper.

"Everyone, I would like to introduce you to the newest member of the house staff. This is Beatrice Dubois. Miss Dubois will be Her Grace's lady's maid." Mrs. Phasma stared around the room, looking each employee in the eye. "I trust that you will treat her with the respect and kindness that I expect in this household."

Several staff members nodded their head under her severe stare.

"Very well then. I shall leave you to your breakfast," she glanced at the clock on the wall, "which will be concluded in five minutes. There is much to do today, so be sure I don't find you idle."

The tall, imposing housekeeper nodded at Beatrice and then walked out of the room, leaving her standing rather awkwardly.

The duke's valet stood suddenly. "I have finished my meal. You may sit here if you like."

Beatrice smiled as she walked over to the chair. The man nodded his head in greeting.

"My name is Edward Durand. I am His Grace's valet."

Beatrice nodded in return. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Durand."

There was an awkward pause, before Edward nodded his head once more. "Well. His Grace is an early riser, and this is his wedding day. I should go prepare."

Beatrice smiled in reply as the man left, leaving her with three minutes in which to eat. She quickly added food to her plate, nervous already about meeting her mistress.

Beatrice knocked on the door, nerves making her vaguely nauseated as a low "come in" came from the room.

Beatrice entered hesitantly, seeing her employer for the first time. The man had a very severe expression on his face, quite unexpected considering he was preparing for his nuptials. She walked carefully to the center of the room, curtsying as Edward helped his employer into his jacket.

"Her Grace will be in need of your assistance this evening."

Beatrice fought to keep a blank expression as surprise washed over her. She had not expected to be needed until the following morning. She quickly nodded her understanding.

"Of course."

The Duke straightened his cuffs. "You'll likely find her very different from your previous employer. She was not born into the peerage and will not be used to having a servant attending her."

He looked up at her, piercing her with the severe look in his eyes. "I trust you shall show her the respect given her new status and will help her to the best of your ability?"

Beatrice swallowed as she nodded. "Of course, Your Grace."

The duke nodded. "You may leave."

Beatrice turned to leave, catching Edward's eye. He gave her a reassuring smile as she walked out the door.

Edward helped the duke affix the flower to his lapel, straightening the jacket's shoulders. He could not help but notice the nervous air about the man. Though he had knew it was normal for grooms to have nerves prior to a wedding, he wondered if there was another cause for the man's fidgeting.

Having been in his employ for many years now, Edward considered himself somewhat of an expert on the Duke of Ren. He was not a man of many words, though Edward had long assumed that what he lacked in speech he more than made up in thought. He knew several of the staff were terrified of the man, but though his temper quick and often raging, Edward was not scared of the man.

"If I might be so bold, where did you find Miss Dubois? I thought detected a French accent."

The duke glanced at Edward before continuing to straighten his already straight bowtie. "She was formerly the lady's maid to Lady Mon Mothma. She comes with excellent references."

Edward nodded. "Of course. I would expect nothing less for the future Duchess."

The duke tensed as his eyes quickly whipped to his. Edward resisted the urge to smile at the almost guilty look in his employer's eyes.

"She would of course need a lady's maid befitting her new rank in society."

The duke returned to straightening his bowtie. "Precisely."

The next morning, Beatrice walked quickly into a side hallway, stopping to lean against the wall, breathing quickly. The duke's temper was extremely intimidating and she berated herself for forgetting such a detail as having the duchess pull the bell to call for her. She was immensely grateful to still be employed.

"Miss Dubois?"

Beatrice's head snapped up as she struggled to put on a relaxed expression, seeing Edward looking at her, concerned.

"Has something happened?" He took a step closer, reaching out a hand to touch her shoulder before seeming to remember himself and pulling it back.

Beatrice attempted a smile, shaking her head. "It's really nothing."

Edward frowned. "If it were nothing you would not be hiding in a hallway. Is there anything I can do to help you?"

Beatrice took a deep breath. "I merely made an error and was corrected for it. I shall be fine, though I thank you for your concern, Mr. Durand."

Understanding dawned on Edward's face. "I see." He clasped his hands in front of him. "His Grace can be rather terrifying when he's angry, but though he has broken many figurines in his day, he has never harmed a staff member."

Beatrice tried again to smile. "I was not fearful of such a thing. I simply find myself embarrassed. It shall be fine I'm sure." She nodded before Edward could speak again. "Thank you again for your concern, Mr. Durand, but I should attend to Her Grace."

Without waiting for reply she walked around Edward and out the door.

"Beatrice," Her Grace said, shyly, "I've detect a slight accent in your speech. Where are you from?"

Beatrice smiled as she wound a piece of hair around the curling iron. "I was born in Annecy, France, ma'am."

The duchess returned her smile. "And how did you end up in our fair country?"

Beatrice answered the duchess's many questions, finding her shy manner charming. She could only imagine what it must be like to be thrust into the role of duchess with no formal training, and yet thus far she found the young duchess was up to the challenge. She certainly did not seem cowed by her husband, which spoke to the courage of her character.

Once Beatrice was satisfied with the duchess's appearance, Her Grace walked to her door. Upon opening it, the duchess paused, finding the duke on the other side of it. Beatrice tried to melt into the background, as her training had taught her, sneaking glances at the pair as she folded clothes over her arm to be returned to the closet.

His Grace was completely enamored by his wife. That much was blatantly clear. Beatrice struggled not to smile at the thoroughly stunned look on his face as he took in his wife's appearance. Beatrice was unable to see the duchess's expression, but the shaky breath she took before putting her hand on his proffered arm suggested she might be equally as enamored. Were it anyone else, Beatrice might have thought the shaky break was due to fear, but Her Grace had proven she did not fear her husband.

This was a very interesting turn of events. The servants had been gossiping for weeks as to why His Grace would marry a commoner. Could it be that the man had chosen her for love?

Beatrice ate her meal in silence, listening to the chatter of the other servants.

Suddenly a girl, one of the maids, rushed in excited.

"You'll never believe it. His Grace is flirting with her."

Beatrice's head snapped up as a flurry of gasps went up around her.

"Flirting?" Beatrice looked over to see Mr. Durand's eyebrows in his hairline.

The girl nodded. "Yes! Mr. Waterstone said he was teaching her the proper way to eat soup when he went to refill their beverages."

One of the other servants scoffed. "That's hardly flirting."

Mr. Durand did not respond, turning back to his own meal as a debate broke out over whether teaching one's wife to eat soup constituted flirting or not. Beatrice pressed her lips together to hide a smile as Mr. Durand's eyes caught hers, a moment of mutual understanding passing between them.

Beatrice returned to her own meal, declining to comment on the debate.

His Grace had definitely chosen her for love.

Edward withheld a sigh as His Grace once again decided to take his meal in his study. Though he was by no means an expert in marriage, never having been married himself, it seemed counter productive for a man to avoid the object of his affection.

The duke had made no excuses for his sudden outburst in the study after what had seemed to be a positive dinner, and Edward had known better than to ask, but surely whatever quarrel was between the man and his wife did not warrant complete avoidance.

The rest of the house staff had theories as to what had transpired between the pair, the duchess seen hurrying up the stairs as smashing glass echoed in the hall, but Edward knew better than to enter into the idle gossip. It could mean his job.

Though his relationship with the duke did not extend beyond professional, Edward could not help but hope that the man find happiness, if for no other reason than his life seemed terribly lonely as it was.

"Mr. Durand?"

Edward glanced up from shining His Grace's shoes to find Beatrice standing in the doorway, looking rather nervous.

Standing quickly, Edward set aside the shoes. "Miss Dubois. How can I be of service?"

Beatrice cleared her throat, seeming to realize she was wringing her hands and clasping them in front of her. He waited as she seemed to struggle with what to say.

Glancing on either side of her, Beatrice stepped through the doorway, speaking low. "I wondered if I might have a word with you." She cleared her throat. "About His Grace."

Edward's eyebrows rose in surprise before he lifted his chin. "I will not gossip about His Grace, so if you're after information about his feelings on the lady of the manor, then you will be disappointed."

Beatrice shook her head. "No. I mean, yes, that is what I wished to discuss, but not for the purpose of gossip."

Edward pressed his lips together, exhaling sharply. "Very well. What is it you wish to know?"

Beatrice took a large breath, clearly still grappling with her decision to seek out information about her employer.

"I wish to know of His Grace's feelings for his wife."

Edward huffed an incredulous laugh. "If you think that His Grace and I spend time discussing his feelings for his new bride, then you are incredibly naïve."

Beatrice pressed her lips together, his answer clearly irritating her. "Yes, but you've worked as his valet for many years. Surely you know his moods."

"Love is not a mood."

Beatrice smiled. "So, he does love her."

Edward shook his head, already preparing for the insipid talk of how romantic His Grace is.

"I said no such thing."

"But you've noticed how he looks at her?"

Edward sighed, irritated. "Miss Dubois, this conversation is hardly proper. The peerage do not marry for love. They marry –" He cut off, realizing too late that his sentence would only further prove her point, rolling his eyes as she smiled again.

"They marry for status," Beatrice supplied. "But Her Grace had no status. She was an orphan with no money to speak of."

Edward pressed his lips together.

The smile slipped from Beatrice's face. "I did not come here to gossip. I came here to see if my own suspicions were accurate, as you have just proven them to be. Despite the fact that I have only recently started serving Her Grace, I have become rather fond of her, and do not like to see her upset."

Edward raised his eyebrows as Beatrice continued.

"I simply wish to know if you knew why His Grace continues to avoid her. Do you know what transpired in the drawing room after dinner that night?"

Edward sighed, his shoulders dropping. "I do not, I'm afraid, nor am I likely to find out."

Beatrice frowned. "You have served the man for years. Surely you have some sort of comradery with him."

"His Grace prefers to keep our relationship professional."

"But how are we to help them if you don't have a relationship with the man?"

Edward blinked, nonplussed. "Help them?"

"Well, someone needs to get them to see their feelings for one another." Beatrice spoke as if her words were obvious.

"It is not our job to make sure our employers are in love. In fact, it would be an impertinence."

Beatrice sighed. "Well we wouldn't be overt about it, of course. But it is clear to anyone and everyone in the household that His Grace fancies his wife, and though I do not believe she is aware of it yet, Her Grace has shown on several occasions that she is upset at his continued rejection of her."

"Rejection? The man is merely eating his dinner in his study. That hardly constitutes a rejection of her." As the words left his mouth, Edward knew that was umtrue, but he was not willing to correct himself.

"He takes his meals in his study so that he does not have to take his meals with his wife."

Edward did not respond, though something must have shown in his expression because Beatrice's eyes lit up. "So, you will help me?"

Edward sighed. "What is this grand scheme you have then?"

Beatrice smiled and began talking quickly.

The following morning Edward helped his employer dress, wondering how he could possibly broach the subject of the man's wife without seeming impertinent.

After the sixth time he cleared his throat, the duke sighed. "Clearly you have something you wish to say. Spit it out."

Edward averted his eyes, helping the man into his jacket. "Forgive me, sir." He cleared is throat again. "I was wondering if you planned to take your meals in the dining room today."

The duke frowned, remaining quiet as he regarded Edward. "Somehow I get the sense that is not what you're really asking."

Edward sighed, straightening his posture and looking the man in the eyes. "I know it is not my place to say so, but perhaps it could not hurt to spend a meal with your wife?"

The surprise in the duke's eyes quickly shuttered, his jaw ticking. It would not be an exaggeration to say that Edward feared he might be dismissed, so it was no small surprise when the man merely nodded, walking towards the doorway as he tugged down his sleeves.

"Thank you for the unsolicited advice, Edward."

Beatrice snagged Edward as he made his way to polish his employer's shoes.

"Well?"

Edward gently pulled his sleeve from Beatrice's fingers.

"Well, I'm not fired. Not yet at least."

Beatrice's eyes widened. "Did he take the advice?"

Edward raised his eyebrows. "Your guess is as good as mine. Your time would better be spent asking one of the footmen."

Without another word, Beatrice shot off, likely in search of the footmen in charge of breakfast. Edward continued into the polishing room, setting to work.

Not much time passed before Beatrice entered again, looking frustrated.

"I take it His Grace did not breakfast in the dining room?" Edward asked, buffing out a scuff on a shoe.

Beatrice shook her head. "No, he did. But he left almost as soon as Her Grace arrived to dine."

The corner of Edward's mouth ticked up. How very like Ben Solo to pull such an awkward stunt. "I did warn you that your schemes were not likely to go as you expected."

"Why is he such a difficult man?" The frustration was clear in Beatrice's voice, and a sudden protectiveness rose in Edward.

"He's not a difficult man. I would say the more likely reason for his departure is his extreme shyness."

Beatrice frowned, clearly bemused. "His what?"

Edward set aside the shoe, walking over to replace the polish and set the rag aside. "Though he may seem severe and full of confidence to those that do not know his manners, His Grace is actually quite a bashful man. Most of his peculiar behavior and eschewing of social gatherings do not stem from the snobbery that his lowers accuse him of, but rather from simple bashfulness. He is not unaware of his awkward manner and thus generally does what he can to avoid being put in an awkward social situation."

Beatrice stared at him, astonishment written in her features.

Mrs. Phasma appeared in the hallway, stopping to frown at them.

"I hope I did not just find you gossiping."

Beatrice's eyes went wide as she turned towards the woman. "Of course not, ma'am. We-"

Edward took a step forward. "I was showing Beatrice the best way to remove scuffs off of shoes, ma'am. She had asked me to show her my method so that she could be sure to keep Her Grace's shoes in perfect condition."

Mrs. Phasma didn't look convinced, pressing her lips together. "In that case, I trust you will get back to your work."

Beatrice nodded. "Of course, ma'am." Turning to Edward, she curtsied. "Thank you for your help, sir."

Edward nodded. "Of course."

Mrs. Phasma scoffed and then walked on down the hallway.

Beatrice quickly turned back. "I'll leave it to you to make sure His Grace starts spending time with her."

Edward sighed.

Beatrice had just finished her ironing when Mr. Mitaka walked up to her, a worried expression on his face.

"Her Grace has returned from her tea."

Beatrice frowned. "Is something the matter, sir?"

Mr. Mitaka seemed to consider a moment before stating simply, "She seemed in quite a rush to get back to her rooms."

Beatrice nodded, unease curling in her stomach as she rushed up the stairs. Though it had been scarcely more than a week since she had begun her employ, she felt a protectiveness towards her mistress. Her Grace's youth and humility were quite charming.

When she reached the door, Beatrice took a moment to catch her breath and smooth down her skirt before knocking and stepping quietly into the room.

When she saw the state the duchess was in, shoes and gloves tossed about the room, she rushed over.

"Your Grace," she said, quietly leading her over to the mirror, "Lets get you changed, shall we?"

Anger rose at the tear streaks and wan complexion of her mistress as Beatrice quickly unbuttoned the long row of buttons down her back. What had happened at the tea to cause such distress?

"Shall I get a morning dress?"

Rey shook her head vigorously. "No. Get my bedclothes."

Beatrice blinked for a beat before curtsying. "Of course, ma'am."

Once she was dressed, the duchess walked over to her bed and curled up on her side. Beatrice paused in picking up the clothes, shoes, and gloves. It was difficult to keep her expression neutral in the face of the obvious mistreatment her mistress has suffered.

After being reassured that there was nothing else the duchess needed, Beatrice left, closing the door quietly behind her.

She stood outside the door, wringing her hands as she wondered if she should alert His Grace to his wife's distress.

Deciding that it could be a good opportunity for the pair to grow closer, Beatrice made up her mind, heading towards the duke's study.

She knocked on the door, rubbing her sweating palms down her skirt as she waited. The duke opened the door, raising his eyebrows at seeing her.

Swallowing, the Beatrice curtsied.

"I beg your pardon, Your Grace, I hope I'm not disturbing you."

The duke's brows knit as he stepped back and gestured for the her to enter.

"Not at all."

He walked over to his desk and sat down, gesturing for Beatrice to do the same.

Beatrice slowly wandered over to his desk as the duke sat, fidgeting her hands as the duke looked at her expectantly.

"How may I help you?"

Beatrice took a deep breath. "I don't wish to betray the confidences of my mistress, but I felt it important that you know she arrived from the Skywalker estate very upset."

The duke frowned and Beatrice hoped it was directed at the news rather than her.

"I see." He paused before asking, "Did she confide the particulars of what happened?"

Beatrice shook her head. "No, sir, but she was distraught to the point of requesting she be dressed in her bedclothes. When I left her, she had taken to her bed."

The duke leaned back in his chair, sighing. After a moment he nodded towards Beatrice.

"Thank you for informing me. You may leave."

Beatrice nodded, exiting the study. Once she was away from the duke, she sat down to wait for her heart to stop racing. She didn't know how Edward spent so much time with the man. He was quite intimidating. Now she could only hope that he would be able to calm his wife.

When Edward entered the servants dining hall, he pressed his lips together and sat down next to Beatrice.

Speaking low in the hopes of avoiding gossip, Edward asked, "Have you any idea what happened yesterday?"

A wrinkle appearing between Beatrice's eyebrows as she shook her head. "Her Grace returned from her tea quite upset. I alerted His Grace to the situation. When I dressed Her Grace this morning, she mentioned needing to apologize to him, so I can only assume things did not go well."

Edward exhaled sharply. "No. His Grace was in quite a state when he prepared for bed."

Beatrice sighed and slumped back into her chair. "I was hoping he could comfort her, that it would draw them closer."

Edward pressed his lips together. "Yes, well it would seem that the opposite happened instead."

Beatrice shook her head. "Why must they be so difficult?"

Edward did not answer, though he silently agreed with the sentiment.

Not an hour later, Beatrice raced up to Edward, her eyes bright.

"They spent an entire breakfast together."

Edward's eyebrows rose in shock.

Beatrice was nearly bouncing on her toes. "They discussed their differences and Mr. Adams said he even noticed Her Grace smiling."

Edward pressed his lips together to hide the smile at Beatrice's excitement.

Spying Mrs. Phasma rounding the corner, Edward nodded. "Thank you for the update Miss Dubois."

Beatrice's eyes widened as she glanced behind her, quickly turning to curtsy and walk away.

Edward continued walking down the hallway, nodding as he passed the housekeeper, the corners of his mouth upturned as he contemplating this surprising turn of events.

Several days later, Mrs. Phasma walked into the servant's dining hall, a man and woman behind her.

"Everyone, this is Mr. and Mrs. Smith. His Grace has hired Mrs. Smith to be the duchess's paid companion. Mr. Smith will spend his time helping the house in whatever manner we need him to and while the duchess is in her lessons Mrs. Smith will do the same."

The housekeeper scanned the room, her eyes stern. "As always, I trust you will treat them with the utmost respect."

When several heads nodded, Mrs. Phasma turned to the pair. "You may eat your breakfast. You have – " she glanced at the clock on the wall, "twenty-three minutes before I expect you to come to me for your daily assignment."

The Smiths nodded their head, heading towards the table as the housekeeper left. Beatrice smiled at the pair, gesturing across from her at two vacant seats.

As they began loading their plates with food Beatrice introduced herself.

"I'm Beatrice Dubois, Her Grace's lady's maid."

Mrs. Smith smiled in return. "I'm Rose and this is my husband Finn."

Finn nodded as he tucked in to his meal.

Beatrice and Rose held a cordial conversation as they ate. When a bell rang, Beatrice glanced over and then patted the napkin to the corner of her mouth.

"That's me then," she said, rising from her seat.

Rose quickly stood up. "Oh, please let me go."

Beatrice paused, uncertain. Mrs. Phasma did not like changes in routine, but seeing the excitement in Rose's eyes, Beatrice nodded.

"Very well. Follow me. I'll let you grab Her Grace's tray and show you where her room is."

A smile bloomed on Rose's face as she quickly grabbed her half-eaten plate and followed Beatrice out of the room.

In the days that followed, Beatrice wondered if she should enlist the help of Rose in her quest to help their employers navigate their marriage.

And so it was, when the day for Lady Holdo's ball arrived that Beatrice, after speaking with Edward – who had sighed before giving his permission – took Rose aside and explained her thus far failing schemes to get the duke and duchess to fall in love.

Much to her relief, Rose was quite enthusiastic about helping. They spent several minutes discussing how best to achieve their goal, pulling Edward aside to join them before they spotted Mrs. Phasma turning a corner and scattered.

That evening, Rose helped Beatrice in preparing the duchess for the ball. They had discussed what touches they could do to ensure His Grace was swept of his feet by his wife's beauty. Her Grace generally preferred to keep her hair in a simply styled bun, but Beatrice decided on a complicated hairstyle of braids, sweeping a few strands of hair to frame her face prettily.

The duchess stood in front of the mirror as Beatrice dressed her, pairing white silk slippers and white elbow length gloves with the dress. Rose did what she could as Beatrice styled the duchess's hair, helping to curl and pin.

When Beatrice allowed Her Grace to look in the mirror, the duchess's breath caught. The dress had been tailored to fit perfectly, the gloves and shoes complimenting the dress nicely. Beatrice's intricate style of curls were piled atop her head, with a few tendrils left to drift around her face, making her appear both delicate and regal.

Rose bit her lip as the duchess smiled at her through the mirror and then gave into a squeal of excitement. Grabbing her friend's hands, she said, "I cannot wait to hear about the evening. You must promise to try to enjoy yourself."

The duchess smiled back. "I shall do my best, for your sake if not my own."

After a few last touches, the duchess walked to the door.

Beatrice and Rose shared a smile at the look on the duke's face as he took in his wife's appearance. They had spoken with Edward about making sure to fit His Grace in his best formalwear. Edward had sighed once more but agreed. It seemed he had outdone himself, as the duchess seemed equally as enamored by her husband's appearance as he was with hers. It was all Beatrice could do not to squeal in excitement as the pair walked slowly down the hall. They were so caught up in the moment they didn't even notice Rose grabbing Beatrice's hand and pulling her out in the hallway to watch them leave.