CHAPTER 18
Rosalind pressed her ear against the kitchen door. Familiar voices chattered within.
“Who would have guessed it?” Maria said dramatically. Rosalind could hear the conspiratorial pseudo-hush in her voice.
“Guessed what?” one of the other scullery maids—Rosalind couldn’t quite tell which one—replied.
“That Don Vidal Salazar, our employer, who has never even had a rumor of bad behavior attached to his name, came home from his honeymoon with his wife… so visibly embarazada.” She giggled.
Titters responded.
“One of the scullery maids told me there was no blood on the sheets.”
“Of course not! Not if she’s this far along.”
“Sinners,” groused a sour voice Rosalind recognized as belonging to Paloma, a grouchy old woman who loved to gossip, even though she frowned the whole while.
