“Oh, good morning,” Gardenia said, somehow flustered by the woman’s sharp eyes that seemed to take in every detail of her shabby appearance.
“I am Her Grace’s personal maid,” the woman said. “Her Grace is now awake and I have informed her of your arrival. She wishes to see you.”
There was something in the hard words that made Gardenia feel apprehensive. Perhaps she was being unduly sensitive, but she had the impression that her aunt was not particularly pleased with the information she had received of her presence.
However there was no time for introspective thoughts.
“I am very eager to see my aunt,” she responded.
The personal maid’s expression of aloof disdain did not alter.
“Kindly follow me, mamselle,” she said sharply and led the way through the hall and up the stairs.
With a
