She finished her coffee and, needing to move, to do something, stood to gather her plate and cup.
"Leave it." The command was quiet. She froze, her hands on the fine china.
"I was just going to help—"
"You are not a servant here." He didn't look at her, refolding his napkin with methodical care. "Sit down."
A spark of defiance, old and familiar, flickered. "I know I'm not. I'm also not an invalid. I can carry a plate to the kitchen."
Finally, he looked up. His gaze was level. "That is Marion's domain, as it has been the last twenty years she has served me. Her pride, and her peace. Your interference, however well-intentioned, is a disruption. You do not yet know the rules of this house. Until you do, accept the function. Do not act."
It was so utterly alien, this concept of curated s
