If only he knew how familiar he was to her… but she couldn’t tell him of course.
He would consider her insane.
“Forgive me, it was a slip.” His eyes remained narrowed.
“A slip does not happen three times, Lady Whitmore.” Everetta flushed crimson.
“I don’t know what you are talking about, Sir Theodore.” He took a step back.
“We shall see.
You just might lose your precious hair if you do so again without my consent, Lady Whitmore.” She touched a hand to her chest.
“Are you threatening me, Sir Theo… Theo.” She looked him square in the eye.
If she had not looked just then, she would have missed the way the left corner of his lips quirked up in the slightest hint of a smirk.
Then he turned around and left her standing there.
Eve bit her lower lip and watched him leave.
It was not over – she knew enough to be certain that men like him never made empty threats.
She turned and went back to her room to find a piece of ribbon with which to tie her hair with.
The pounding noise only seemed to grow louder as she ascended the stone steps that led to their rooms.
When she reached the landing, she glanced at his door.
It was closed.
Probably locked.
It instantly reminded her of his comparison of her and the maid.
She could not reduce herself to being a peeping tom, could she?
Biting her lower lip, she turned towards her room and refused to glance back.
Somehow, someway, she would see what his room looked like, she promised herself.
She slid into her room and sank down on the vanity table to find a ribbon for her hair.
Once she found it, she packed it into a pony tail that swept down to her mid-back.
When she was done, she went down to where the masons were working in search of him.
A short man with a whisker-like moustache saw her and pointed towards a closed door at the end of the hall.
Oh.
He was waiting… The thought of being inside the same room with a closed door had her heart beating louder than a drum.
Dragging in a deep breath, she began walking towards the door.
When she reached it, she slowly wrapped her hands around the door and released the breath she was holding before entering, oblivious to the watchful eyes of the working men behind her.
He was leaning against a beautifully carved mahogany desk and looking at parchments when she entered.
She stepped in and made to close the door.
“Leave it open.” She blinked.
“Why?” She looks outside.
Immediately she did, all the men hurriedly returned to their jobs.
“Here is the list of things I expect you to see to today.” She glanced at the pile of parchment with wide eyes.
Eve kicked the door closed and went to view the pile.
“All of this?
Today?” He spared her a brief glance before returning to whatever he was looking at.
“Yes.
Do you have a problem with it?
The day is still very young, Lady Whitmore.” She gulped and glanced back at the pile.
“For crying out loud, I am a woman, not a horse.” “If I recall correctly, you asked for the responsibility.
And, the ball is in five days.” She wiped a bead of sweat off her forehead.
She should have known.
She should have known that he would use every avenue he could to humiliate and punish her.
Everetta picked up the first parchment and read through it.
‘Two full wagons of white and red roses, silver-rimmed lace table clothes, hundred barrels of wine…’ Where did she even begin?
“I think I have changed my mind, Sir Theodore.
You were right after all, all this work is unbefitting for a lady of my status.
You can call an ball planner to-” “We shook on it, so by right, I should hold you to your word.
Except you are not a woman of your word…” He carefully trailed off.
“Of course, I am.” “Then keep to your word.
I already sent for samples of most of the things on your list since a spoiled lady like you would hardly know her left from right in such matters.
Now, you are expected to inspect the wagon when they arrive, select the appropriate ones and guide the servant with the decorations.
Am I clearly understood?” She hid her clenched hands in the folds of her dress.
Keep to her word?
He was turning her into a slave and he expected her to keep to her word?
The urge to remain him that he was no longer in the army burned on her tongue.
But she said nothing.
“Half is yours, half is mine.
If you want someone you can order around like a servant, find a steward or a ball planner.” He rose from his perch on the table and carefully set the parchment he had been reading down.
“Half is mine.” She blinked.
Was he accepting it?
“Take out your half and leave the rest for me, then.
And I must add, the only reason you have an aversion to being told what to do is because you are a proud, spoiled lady.” Her clenched hands tightened until she felt her nails biting into the soft skin of her palms.
“What in the world gave you the impression that I am a proud and spoiled lady, Sir Theodore?
If I recall correctly, we were hardly acquaintances before I became betrothed to your older brother.” Her voice was raised slightly, much to her surprise.
He seemed unfazed by her question.
“It shows in everything you do.” “What do you mean by that?
Do I nag at servants?
Do I select meals?
Do I -” He met her gaze with an unusually cold one and held it.
She felt frozen to the spot, as if she could not look away even if her life depended on it.
“You may not remember, but you once said that you were going to become the next queen someday – any other man apart from the prince that tried to wed you would walk away in shame.
And then, I return from the army to hear that you have rejected half the eligible bachelors that came to ask for your hand much to your parents’ disappointment.
What did you think I would make of it?” She blinked.
That had been when they were children, of course she remembered.
She hadn’t known what she was saying at the time… How could he not see that she had rejected all those suitors because of him?
How do you expect him to see, gurrrlll…???