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There was shuffling, gasps, and a few muted cheers.
Loren watched his father’s lips quirk.
“Carling, I bid you take your staff and discuss this with them, see if this is amenable,” Corliss continued.
Carling sounded choked, as he would, since it was indubitably amenable, when he pushed out, “Will do, milady.”
She swept an arm over the ledgers and stated, “You and I will go over these books and we’ll see every member of my staff is compensated appropriately.”
“That would be appreciated, milady.”
“And please, allow two extra days paid leave per annum to each staff member, and an extra afternoon free every week as well. Ansley added the suggestion that we might be understaffed, which means you are all not only underpaid, but required to go above and beyond to see to the running of this house. Therefore, you and I will speak about whether we need to hire someone else to cover for those times when staff is at their leisure or add so you can adjust the workloads of your charges to more appropriate levels.”
Carling coughed, sniffed, muttered, “My apologies,” then in his normal voice said, “It will be done as you wish, madam.”
She stood and smiled. “I’m delighted. Can you do that presently, but also, send for the modiste?”
“Right away, Countess Derryman,” Carling said smartly.
“None of that, I’m Lady Corliss only, my daughters are Lady Maxine and Lady Satrine.” Corliss pierced Carling with her gaze. “We are family here now, Carling. At long last.”
There were some sniffles amongst the crowd and Carling’s voice was thick when he said, “Indeed, Lady Corliss.”
She drew breath in through her nose and addressed them all.
“Thank you for your time, and all of your hard work. Please, now, enjoy a cup of tea and have your discussions with Carling.”
Loren pulled Satrine out of the way so they could file out.
The last to go was Carling, and he closed the door.
Satrine and he turned back to Corliss when she spoke.
“Ansley told me that the household will run as if Edgar were here, regardless if we are, also regardless of what might happen to him. It had to be done because it had to be done, but there was no time to waste. The books will be adjusted before I’m cast out, and the household will be managed as the books are set at that time, especially if Edgar has no idea I’ve meddled. So all will be well with the staff.”
“You rock, Mom,” Satrine said strangely.
“I know, honey,” Corliss replied.
They started giggling.
Maxine giggled with them.
Loren looked to his sire, who was gazing indulgently down at Corliss.
Yes.
He had no idea what to do with any of these women.
Women who had been held down, abused, neglected, exploited, and ended that taking pains to see to people they did not know and giggling.
And for the first time in a very long time, Loren had reservations about his own decision.
Because Satrine Dawes was grit and gumption, and he was blood and death.
And Loren was thinking she deserved better.
Chapter Thirteen
Future to Discuss
Satrine
I was in a new day dress, and so was Maxine.
I was curled into a corner of the settee with a cup of tea and a plate of biscuits (in other words cookies, delicious ones), reading a book.
The book I was reading was about the war between Lunwyn and Middleland that reunited both countries to Lunwyn.
It was a book I sought at a local bookstore (needless to say, to catch up on things, Mom and I had been doing a lot of reading) because Ansley had told me, in his role in the king’s service, Loren had spent some time in former Middleland (now again Lunwyn). He’d been routing out conspirators who would not only see the restoration of Middleland, but also attempt to regain the territory they conquered years before from Hawkvale.
Maxine was sitting in front of the window at her easel, the plethora of paints Mom bought her scattered around, painting a picture of the pretty park that was across the street from the house.
My sister, by the way, was a really good painter. It looked impressionistic, what she did. I was no expert, but I’d seen things in museums which weren’t half as pretty.
In front of me, scattered on the table, waiting for Mom’s return, were a bevy of huge sheets of thick-stock paper on which were drawn a variety of flower arrangements we were to look through and settle on for my wedding.
I was ignoring them because I was engaged with what a dick King Baldur of Middleland was and wondering how on earth he could have any followers at all, much less ones who wished to restore him to the throne after he was deposed.
It was two weeks after Mom gave the staff huge-ass raises and Dad went down for a variety of this-world felonies.
News on that front, he hadn’t been offered bail.
