30: A ladies maid

*Ben*

So she thinks she knows me, does she? Well enough to speak of me to a laborer as though we are friends. I don’t like that she might actually be figuring me out and I like even less the things that I am starting to anticipate about her. I knew her eyes would widen in surprise and pleasure when I asked about the blasted tuner for the piano. I knew she wouldn’t be entirely comfortable taking the dressing table. But it is ridiculous to spend coins to have another made when my father already purchased one that went unused for more than a quarter of a century.

I don’t take any satisfaction in my ability to predict her reactions. Takes far less in her ability to predict mine. Therefore, I decide to do something entirely unpredictable and bring her to Lydia’s Teas and Cakes before we return home. As we enter, those whiskey-shaded eyes of hers glow with absolute delight. And I curse my stupidity. It’s being far too accommodating. It doesn’t help matters that it always causes this odd se