Leah
The space felt smaller with everyone crammed in. Ten servants lined the wall, heads bowed. Martha sat rigid on the velvet sofa, face a mask of righteous fury. Ella stood beside her, eyes red-rimmed, cheeks streaked with artful tears.
Agnes occupied the high-backed chair like a throne. Her green eyes were calm, but the air around her crackled with old Alpha authority.
She ignored Ella’s sobs entirely and fixed Martha with a level stare.
“I instructed you and your daughter to remain in the guest wing. No wandering. Yet your daughter was in my garden smoking. A fire hazard. An insult to pack discipline. Explain.”
Martha’s eyes widened in perfect shock. “Smoking? My Ella? Never. She’s a proper young lady—obedient, clean-living. Perhaps someone mistook Leah for her? The resemblance in
