Miss Gepid is a winsome young thing, just the sort of debutante I would imagine on the arm of such a one as Master Felix. Like her paramour, Miss Gepid deceives herself with the notion that she stands on some sort of pedestal. "Are you going to follow us with Elspeth’s trunks and bags?" Felix taunts. Miss Gepid echoes his sour query with a disdainful glance in my direction - the first time she's acknowledged me today.

I muster a smile and find peace in the vision of the pedestal toppling over and crushing Felix while causing Miss Gepid to fall into a pool of face-disfiguring acid. "Of course, Sir," I answer, following the couple up the stairs. I am then subjected to the most harrowing tortures known to man - things that would cause Desmond to gasp and shout, "My God, are you mad?" It all begins when Miss Gepid expresses her dissatisfaction with the colour schemes in her bedroom. But it doesn't end there. The boudoir is too dark. The wardrobe is too small. The bed sheets must be of silk, not linen. There must be a west-facing window. The wainscot is dusty. The water closet smells of spinach. I spend the next four hours noting Miss Gepid's every request and seeing to the changes myself.

************

With smudges of glue and paint on my face, I shuffle into my own bedroom, behind the kitchen. There lounges Shawn Belcourt, the rascally squire of the Cross & Cowl, nibbling a hunk of broth-soaked bread and sipping madeira. "Hullo!" Shawn says with a full mouth, pretending to look startled.

"Oh, God," I sigh, letting the broom and dustpan slip from my hands. "What are you doing here? Don't you take supper at the Inn?"

"Yes, ordinarily," Shawn replies, amused to see me run so ragged. "But Mother's prepared her renowned roasted lamb, and I could hardly miss the opportunity, could I?"

"Codswallop," I huff, pulling off my apron. "You saw an attractive young newcomer arrive and you wanted to take the opportunity to greet her in your disgustingly charming Shawn Belcourt manner." Shawn looks surprised for only a moment before grinning his confession. "Fine," I grin back, taking a seat at my davenport nearby. I open the ledger and begin working on payroll for the house staff. "On your way out, would you please use the front door?" I ask. "I can't have the whole of Drakesheath using the secret passageways, for God's sake."

Shawn takes a peek over my shoulder, just as I sign Lord Drakesheath's name to a cheque. "Very well, old chap. Oh, by the way, I just today received your invitation to Felix's do." Shawn makes a mock gasp and covers his mouth. "Oops. I mean the Baron's invitation."

"Yes," I say slowly, "Keep that one to yourself, too. Remember, the only reason you know what you do is because we rely on your talent of keeping outsiders from getting in."

"What about Lady Amalie?" Shawn reminds me.

"Ah." I hand him his cheque. "Leave her to me."