Eek!
I yelped, yanked up the covers and whirled to my back, lifting up to sitting.
She crossed her arms on her chest and glared virtual daggers across the room at me.
“Uh…” Shit! “Heya,” I called.
“Your breakfast, your grace, will be served in your sitting room,” she announced in a cold voice.
“Um… my sitting room?” I asked.
She stomped to a door and slapped a hand on it then turned back to me.
“Sitting room,” she said on a near snap. “Of course, I understand, it being so long since you’ve slept in your husband’s bed, you’d forget.”
Oh dear.
“Uh…” I mumbled.
“I’ll leave you to dress but I’ll speak to you during breakfast regarding any of your instructions for my staff.”
She said “my” in a highly proprietary way leaving me to understand precisely what she meant.
They were not Cora’s staff. They probably were Tor’s but they were definitely not Cora’s and in his absence, whoever she was, they were also definitely hers.
“Um, okay,” I said softly.
“If you see one of my staff in the meantime, I’ll ask you to delay in any instructions you might have for them until you can share them with me.”
I was thinking Tor didn’t pay enough attention last time Cora was there. I was thinking Tor was wrong about just his men hating her because she didn’t warm his bed. I was thinking Cora was an even bigger bitch than ever and that was saying something.
“I can do that,” I replied carefully.
She nodded her head once.
“I’ve laid out your clothes. Those and anything else you may need for your toilette,” she stomped to another door and slapped a hand on it, “will be in your dressing room. If you would be so kind,” she spat the last two words, “ten minutes before you require it, pull the cord so we’ll know when to serve your breakfast.”
“Sure thing,” I said quietly, she squinted at me, sniffed then stomped out of the room wafting so much frost in her wake, I shivered.
Then I looked around the room wondering where the fuck Tor was.
Then I slithered around on the bed searching the sides for my nightgown, found it, snatched it up, pulled it on and darted to the privy off the bathroom thinking thanks, Cora, just what I need, another mess you’ve gotten me into.
As requested, ten minutes prior to needing it, I pulled the pale blue velvet, tasseled cord in the dressing room (a very pretty room, a lot smaller than the bedroom, painted a soft yellow accented in pale blues, creams and lavenders with a beautifully painted screen, a chaise lounge covered in lavender velvet and a dressing table topped with a bunch of fancy bottles and other fairytale land beautification detritus).
I found my time in the dressing room a little nerve-wracking considering I didn’t entirely understand the clothing that was laid out for me.
I mean, there was a lot of it. I couldn’t possibly have to don it all.
Then I realized that it wasn’t one outfit, but a selection.
I made my selection and noticed two things. One, these clothes were of far superior quality to what I had been wearing and two, they were very different than what I had been wearing.
And they were exquisite.
So I made my selection. Then I perused the bottles on the dressing table (mostly scent, not all gardenia, a vast selection, so I picked something musky yet floral) but there was some powder, blusher and even kohl pencils.
I dabbed on scent, decided against attempting makeup and started dressing.
After pulling on another pair of lovely panties (these pristine white), I put on a cream, silky, lacy chemise and over that I pulled on a soft purple dress made of a light, flowing silk. The scooped neckline was way low, (indeed, without the lace of the chemise peeking over it, it would almost show my nipples), the waistline was empire (thus accentuating my breasts and drawing attention to the delicate lace) and the skirt was mostly straight with a beautiful drape and a slit up the front that also exposed the cream silk chemise. And last, the waistline was heavily, and magnificently, embroidered in a darker purple with hints of silver.
Then I slid my feet into deep purple satin slippers.
Then I went to the carved box on the dressing table where I’d seen some ribbons and hair clips and selected a pair of clips that were filigree silver with purple stones adorning them that looked like real amethysts. I pulled my hair back on either side but let the back fall long and I looked in the mirror.
I didn’t look half bad but I also didn’t look like a fairytale princess
I guessed it would have to do.
I pinched my cheeks on the way to the sitting room and when I arrived I found another pretty room decorated in blues and peaches. There were comfortable chairs set in front of a wide, arched, multi-diamond-paned window, another chair with a round, button-topped, tassel-bottomed ottoman in a corner and a small, round, spindly-legged table in the middle accompanied by two chairs, their poofy, button-topped seats a plush peach.
This table was laid with ornate silver, china, a crystal vase holding a single, perfect peach rose and it also held my breakfast which appeared to be French toast dusted with powdered sugar and covered in sliced strawberries, something rich, creamy and yummy-looking oozing out of the middle, coffee, orange juice and a jug of water with actual ice.
My stomach growled and my eyes shot to the other thing in the room, the still dour-faced, buxom, kerchief-wearing, apron-dressed woman who clearly hated me.
I pinned a bright smile on my face. “Good morning,” I greeted and looked down at the food. “This looks –”
“If it pleases your grace,” she interrupted me, “I’ll say what I have to say while you eat, you can give me your instructions and I’ll take my leave.”
At her words, my step faltered and I stopped.
Then I moved slowly to the table, pulled out a chair and seated myself while saying softly, “Yes, please, that sounds perfect.”
She approached the table but didn’t get too close, either because she couldn’t stand being in the same space as me or she thought I had the power to strike out and sink fangs into her.
I poured coffee from a sliver service into a china cup and she began.
“The last time you were here, your grace, you made it very clear that our service was… wanting,” she started.
Oh shit.
“This time,” she went on, “we will endeavor to meet your every whim to your exacting standards. I just require that you relate those standards to me prior to your expecting them so that I can educate my staff in what you will be requiring. That way, I won’t find my girls in fits of tears or need to talk others out of leaving their employment on the spot.”
I stared up at her.
Holy crap! What on earth did the other Cora do? Jeez!
“Um…” What could I say? “I was…” Shit! “Uh, out of sorts last time I was here. In fact, I wasn’t…” Drat! “Entirely myself. It seems that I caused some upset.”
“Indeed!” she replied tartly.
“Well…” I started, pulled in a deep breath and leaned slightly toward her.
Instantly, her upper body reared back.
Yep, she thought I could strike out with my fangs.
Yikes.
I decided to sally forth and finished, “I’m very sorry about that. Very sorry. I was… it was… unforgiveable but I want you to know, and please tell your girls, that I am truly, very sorry.”
She blinked.
Then she rallied and snapped, “Fine. Now, do you have any specific instruction?”
“Um… can I, uh… can you ask me that again in a few days? I’d like to get my bearings.”
“With all due respect, your grace, no,” she answered shortly. “As I explained, I would like to know exactly what you require before you require it.”