Fantastical (Fantasyland #3)(49)

So I made my selection. Then I perused the bottles on the dressing table (mostly scent, not all gardenia, a vast selection, so I picked something musky yet floral) but there was some powder, blusher and even kohl pencils.

I dabbed on scent, decided against attempting makeup and started dressing.

After pulling on another pair of lovely panties (these pristine white), I put on a cream, silky, lacy chemise and over that I pulled on a soft purple dress made of a light, flowing silk. The scooped neckline was way low, (indeed, without the lace of the chemise peeking over it, it would almost show my ni**les), the waistline was empire (thus accentuating my br**sts and drawing attention to the delicate lace) and the skirt was mostly straight with a beautiful drape and a slit up the front that also exposed the cream silk chemise. And last, the waistline was heavily, and magnificently, embroidered in a darker purple with hints of silver.

Then I slid my feet into deep purple satin slippers.

Then I went to the carved box on the dressing table where I’d seen some ribbons and hair clips and selected a pair of clips that were filigree silver with purple stones adorning them that looked like real amethysts. I pulled my hair back on either side but let the back fall long and I looked in the mirror.

I didn’t look half bad but I also didn’t look like a fairytale princess

I guessed it would have to do.

I pinched my cheeks on the way to the sitting room and when I arrived I found another pretty room decorated in blues and peaches. There were comfortable chairs set in front of a wide, arched, multi-diamond-paned window, another chair with a round, button-topped, tassel-bottomed ottoman in a corner and a small, round, spindly-legged table in the middle accompanied by two chairs, their poofy, button-topped seats a plush peach.

This table was laid with ornate silver, china, a crystal vase holding a single, perfect peach rose and it also held my breakfast which appeared to be French toast dusted with powdered sugar and covered in sliced strawberries, something rich, creamy and yummy-looking oozing out of the middle, coffee, orange juice and a jug of water with actual ice.

My stomach growled and my eyes shot to the other thing in the room, the still dour-faced, buxom, kerchief-wearing, apron-dressed woman who clearly hated me.

I pinned a bright smile on my face. “Good morning,” I greeted and looked down at the food. “This looks –”

“If it pleases your grace,” she interrupted me, “I’ll say what I have to say while you eat, you can give me your instructions and I’ll take my leave.”

At her words, my step faltered and I stopped.

Then I moved slowly to the table, pulled out a chair and seated myself while saying softly, “Yes, please, that sounds perfect.”

She approached the table but didn’t get too close, either because she couldn’t stand being in the same space as me or she thought I had the power to strike out and sink fangs into her.

I poured coffee from a sliver service into a china cup and she began.

“The last time you were here, your grace, you made it very clear that our service was… wanting,” she started.

Oh shit.

“This time,” she went on, “we will endeavor to meet your every whim to your exacting standards. I just require that you relate those standards to me prior to your expecting them so that I can educate my staff in what you will be requiring. That way, I won’t find my girls in fits of tears or need to talk others out of leaving their employment on the spot.”

I stared up at her.

Holy crap! What on earth did the other Cora do? Jeez!

“Um…” What could I say? “I was…” Shit! “Uh, out of sorts last time I was here. In fact, I wasn’t…” Drat! “Entirely myself. It seems that I caused some upset.”

“Indeed!” she replied tartly.

“Well…” I started, pulled in a deep breath and leaned slightly toward her.

Instantly, her upper body reared back.

Yep, she thought I could strike out with my fangs.

Yikes.

I decided to sally forth and finished, “I’m very sorry about that. Very sorry. I was… it was… unforgiveable but I want you to know, and please tell your girls, that I am truly, very sorry.”

She blinked.

Then she rallied and snapped, “Fine. Now, do you have any specific instruction?”

“Um… can I, uh… can you ask me that again in a few days? I’d like to get my bearings.”

“With all due respect, your grace, no,” she answered shortly. “As I explained, I would like to know exactly what you require before you require it.”

My mind whirled. Then I thought of something.

“Okay, well, um, I don’t like celery,” I told her.

“Noted,” she clipped and then glared at me as she waited for more.

“And, um, my husband doesn’t like that gardenia scent.”

Her brows shot to her hairline. “That is, as you know, your grace, your specifically requested scent. You did, as you know, your grace, make rather a fuss about it last time.”

Uh-oh.

“It’s lovely. I mean, I think it’s beautiful. Utterly perfect,” I lied. “But Tor doesn’t like it so, perhaps –”

“Noted,” she bit off curtly.

Oh boy. She wasn’t melting at all.