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“Forgive me, Father,” I interjected. “I’ve just remembered something that requires my urgent attention. Might I take my leave?”
My father, interrupted mid-speech, furrowed his brow. “Eh? What’s this?”
“A matter of little importance to you, but of great note to me,” I replied smoothly.
His lips twisted sourly. “Oh, very well! I don’t suppose you were paying me heed, anyway!”
“Nonsense, Father.” But I made my bow and let myself out just the same.
It did not take me long to find them again. There was a disturbance just down the hall—too close to my father’s office for my liking, frankly—and the scurrying of servants.
One was heading in my direction, and I took her by the arm before she could pass.
“What is happening?”
“It’s… it’s the young maid, sir.”
“What of her?” There was an unmistakable edge to my voice.
The maid bristled, and I released her arm.
“Apologies.”
“Think nothing of it, Your Grace.” Her tone was stony. “It is only… she… well…”
“Forgive my rudeness. It was a momentary lapse in judgment, I assure you.”
Mollified by my words, she nodded. “Yes, Your Grace. It’s merely… well, she won’t let us dress her. She is throwing the most awful fit.”
“Ah. I shall see to it. Thank you, Molly.”
Completely charmed now, she beamed a smile and bobbed a curtsey. “Of course, Your Grace. Good luck!”
I won’t need luck, I thought, chuckling as I continued on my way. But I was still surprised by the scene that greeted me when I walked into the room.
It was filled with servants—seven at least—and each of them was holding some type of garment. One would move to the center, and there would be a crash as some object hit the wall, then that servant would back away and another would rush in to try their luck.
I watched in mild amusement as a hairbrush clattered to the wall. There was a slight hesitation, then a new servant rushed into the center, brandishing a dress. “Miss!” I heard a maid shout. “Please, Miss, you must wear something! It is not appropriate for?—”
A mirror shattered against the wall, pieces of glass flying in multiple directions.
The horrified maid drew back and allowed me a glimpse of my red-haired waif. Her face was contorted with anger… and fear.
I could read it as plainly in her eyes as if the words had been written there.
Another began to walk toward her, but I stopped all action in the room by clearing my throat and clapping my hands twice.
Immediately, all the servants turned toward me. I could see horror on some faces, relief on others.
“Leave this to me,” I said to the room at large.
“Your Grace, please, she is… a wild thing! She?—”
“I will handle it.” I cut the maid off softly, but the steel undertone in my voice left no doubt that I meant what I said. I waited until each of them filed out of the room, leaving only the two of us.
My waif had been stripped of the shirt I’d let her borrow and stood nude before me once more.
I understood the problem at once. With the kind of rage she’d flown into, it would have taken a man to handle her, but my servants knew my father would faint at such an impropriety. I had no such qualms.
