Chapter Three
Feasting On Love
I had been napping in my room on Chalmers’ advice, ‘Better rest while you can. It will be a long dinner, and a longer night, if the whispers I’ve heard are true,’ when I heard a knock at my door. “Enter.”
A lovesome girlish face showed in the half-opened door. Her maid’s cap perched on a cloud of strawberry blonde hair cascading half-way down her back. Her pale blue eyes widened. “Oh, Sir, I dearly hope I didn’t wake you.”
“Come in. I was only dozing.”
She slipped through the doorway, and closed it, pressing her back against the door. Her voice was a lyrical grace of feminine melody.
“I was ordered to come and help you dress for dinner.”
Her translucent maid’s blouse was illuminated by the blush of sunset shining through the bars of my west window. The
