*Isolde*
There’s a scratch at the door, and Norah enters.
“Good morning,” I say, smiling at my maid. “I’m hoping you could hand Lucy to a footman so she can visit a grass patch. But first you must tell us everything you can about Miss Althea Renwitt.” I ignore Brielle’s scowl. The Mirror of Compliments is very censorious with regard to inappropriate informality with one’s staff, and I add, “We’re all a-flutter to know whether she poses any true competition to Brie in the royal sweepstakes.”
There’s nothing Norah likes better than relating conversations from below-stairs, which, generally speaking, tend to be far more lively than the conversations above-stairs. Her eyes sparkle as she closes the door. “Miss Althea and her mother only arrived yesterday evening, shortly before you, and the
