~CELINE~
The china clinked softly as I arranged the delicate teacups on the silver tray, my hands steadier than my nerves.
Through the drawing room's open doors, I could hear the graceful chatter of Mrs. Eleanor Reid's afternoon gathering…a monthly torture session she insisted on hosting here rather than at her estate.
"It's tradition, darling," she had told Hunter when he had protested yesterday. "The Reid mansion has always been the center of proper society."
What she meant was that she wanted to remind everyone….especially me.…exactly where I stood in the ranking of this world.
I smoothed my uniform one final time and lifted the tray.
The weight of it was nothing compared to the weight of walking into that room, serving women who looked through me like I was invisible, all while
