Richard, Frederick, and Liana are already waiting in my room. I suppose I should have expected that—of course they’ll want to know about the dinner. Of course I’ll have to tell them, mortified as the thought makes me.
But first I need to get out of this torture device of a dress.
“A little help, please, Art,” I say, grabbing a nightgown from the armoire and stepping behind the painted trifold screen. “And you might want to bring your dagger.”
Liana cuts me out of the gown that the seamstress sewed me into, though she does it with less grace, sending glass beads spilling across the floor, the sound like a hollow rainstorm.
I pull the nightgown over my head, savoring a few deep breaths. Though I was only wearing the gown a few hours, I forgot how nice it feels to take air fully into my l
