As an adjunct or even one might say adjacent experience to the day job, we had lunch with a Duke today.
Actually, as we are in Paris, one ought to say: nous avons le experience charmante au dejeuner avec le Duc—-
Gosh. No. We’re NOT telling you which one.
But there only twenty extant, darlings.
Aren’t we having the MOST delicious time?
And when we told him about our relief at arriving at the hotel after the travel-mare of yesterday and then gasping in joy at not one but TWO balconies, the Duc said:
“mais oui, our family, friends and lovers think we have the most glamorous time but rarely do we get two balconies”
(did you notice how he slyly used the word lovers? Ducs in France can do that. Dukes in England would not).
We were not alone. Fear not. There were several people at lunch today. Only one Duc. And only one team gloria. The Duc had to gently suggest we start eating as the men were starving. They were waiting for us to begin. Being a lady and all. But not a Duc. Sadly.
Although pre the revolution (not American, the other one, in France) we would have been Comtesse (Gloria).
Imagine the frocks.