Chapter 3“If you pull my hair again, you turnip-handed wench, I’ll slap you,” Lady Leone said in a furious voice.
Her maid, new from the country and unused to the tantrums of the quality, trembled with fright.
There was a knock at the door and simultaneously it opened and the Viscount Thatford came into the room.
“Oh, it’s you, Peregrine!” Lady Leone called out disagreeably. “I cannot think what you want at this early hour. It is enough that I have to put up with nitwitted girls because Papa cannot, or will not, afford to pay a decent Abigail. Look at the manner in which this imbecile is arranging my hair.”
As she spoke, Lady Leone put up her hands and in a rage deliberately disarranged the coiffure that her lady’s maid had been painstakingly pinning into place for the past half-hour.
