their new house was magnificent, which odette had quickly discovered was not at all the same thing as being pleasant. it was too large, too polished, too full of strangers who moved silently in and out of rooms carrying trays, flowers, boxes, ribbons, fabric, and questions no one ought to be asked before noon. everywhere she turned, there seemed to be another servant adjusting something, announcing something, or politely pretending not to notice that she was deeply in their way.

she had been awake for hours, the first to rise. long enough to roam half the house in her slippers, long enough to move a vase from one table to another and then back again, long enough to sit in three separate rooms only to abandon each within minutes. she had tried reading, then writing, then staring dramatically out of a window at the passing ton. none had cured the particular misery of having nothing to do and no one she wished to speak to.

so when the breakfast room door opened at last, she turned with undisguised hope.

"richard."

the relief in her voice was immediate. she set her book aside so quickly it nearly slid from the table. a teacup sat untouched beside a scattering of papers she had no intention of cleaning up at the moment.

"thank god. if one more person asks whether i would prefer cream or ivory ribbon, i shall resort to arson."

she rose quickly and crossed the room toward him, as though afraid he might vanish if not approached quickly enough.

"i have been wretchedly bored for hours," she informed him, already looping an arm through his as if the matter were now solved. "you must do something useful at once. speak to me. rescue me. quarrel with me. anything."

only then did she glance toward the hallway, where a footman passed carrying yet another arrangement of flowers. she lowered her voice.