lavender-scented sheets. She found she could not bear to eat what was on her dinner tray, and sent it away untouched. She undressed down to her shift and washed as best she could without the servants’ assistance, being too ashamed to call them to the room.
She crawled into bed and cried some more, until her head ached and her eyes felt as if they were burning, and eventually fell into a restless sleep.
Chapter Three: His Grace
Violet came awake slowly, stretching, snuggling deeper into the sheets. For a short while, she forgot her plight and imagined she was still back in her bed at the palace. But there were no ladies-in-waiting at her bedside ready to dress her, and none of the usual scents or sounds of her home. She was still at the Duke of Thornton’s manor.
Comfort and restfulness fled. She sat up in bed, clutching her shift closer around her.
The chambermaid from yesterday rose from a chair in the corner and dropped a curtsy, her dark hair stowed neatly beneath her cap. “Good morning, miss. I’m Jeannie, your personal attendant. I’m to send for a tray when you wake, and help you dress.”
Violet blinked at the woman as she went to the door and relayed a message to someone outside. After that, she came to stand expectantly beside the bed.
Violet still wasn’t sure if she was a prisoner, a visitor, or something in between. “Have they brought my things?” she asked. “If not, I swear I’ll go and get them myself.” Which could have proved difficult, since she’d brought an entire baggage cart of gowns and books and other things necessary to her comfort.
Jeannie curtsied again. “They’ve brought up everything that His Grace instructed them to. Your gowns and slippers are in the dressing room, and you’re to be allowed a fresh shift to sleep in every night after your bath.”
“Oh, am I to be allowed?” Violet said in a cutting voice. “How very kind of him.”
Jeannie ignored her sarcastic remark and continued to stand there with a smile.
“Well?” said Violet. “Where’s my scented washing water? I need toweling and soap, and I shall need you to do my hair. Make yourself at least nominally useful, you idiot.”
“Yes, miss.” The woman’s smile never wavered. “Hot water is on the way, and in the meantime, I ought to tell you that I’m required to report to His Grace any instances of rude or abusive treatment.”
“Rude or abusive—” Violet spluttered at the maid. “You mean when I called you an idiot?”
“Yes, miss. It’s his wish that you will not use unseemly language, nor browbeat those beneath you.”
Violet glared at her. “I only called you an idiot. Is that so bad, when you’re behaving like one? Why should Thornton care?” She threw up her hands. “Tell your master whatever you wish about me, and see if I give a moment’s thought about it. I’m a princess. It’s not in my nature to care for the travails of stupid and annoying personal attendants . Just do your job, for pity’s sake.”
“Yes, miss. I’ll do my best.”
The servant’s sickly sweet politeness confused her. In fact, the entire exchange left Violet feeling deeply unsettled. Report to the master, indeed. Ridiculous. A servant would be turned off without pay for spouting something like that on the palace grounds.
The hot water finally arrived, and Violet washed and performed her morning ablutions with the maid’s assistance, all the while daydreaming about having the woman whipped for sedition and treason.
“Which gown will you wear today?” she asked brightly, as Violet dried off. “The master has sent up five gowns that meet his favor. There is the pale green, the lavender, the blue, the pink, and the ivory lace.”
Of course, he chose all her most demure gowns. Idiots, idiots, idiots. How was she to act the proper princess with this overbearing cretin and his smarmy servants in control of her life? “Where is my crimson gown?” she asked in irritation.
“It’s been