In Which Leara Persists After a Minute's Rest

February 13, 1177

If it wasn't one thing around these parts, then it was another. Leara had been up half the night as a result of her daughter's nightmares, only to wake to find that her son had stolen an entire cake from the kitchens and was sick as a result. Ricky had been asking for Papa, so she'd set off to find Lorn--only to realize that he was in conference with a stubborn Sir Isidro, calling for an investigation of that bizarre Brother Remiel. She'd had to turn around and assure her son that Papa would be with him as soon as he could before she finally had a minute to sit down and breathe.

A minute. Literally one minute and Aydelle was there, Rona's new maid in tow, tears streaming down the girl's face. Something about the sloppy state of the ties on Rona's sleeves. If the poor child's shuddering state had been any indication, her fingers must have been shaky--not that Leara could blame her, considering that Rona had done nothing but criticize Electra since she'd started.

Really. It was about time someone had a chat with that girl, but it figured that it would have to be today. "Mind if I join you?"

Her sister-in-law shrugged. "You're the duchess."

An exasperated 'Fine!' if there ever was one. Sighing, Leara shut the door and dragged her tired form to the empty side of the bed, easing herself down beside Rona. "Your sleeves don't look that bad."

"They're too loose." Rona waved her arm up and down as if to prove her point. "And before that, they were too tight. And before that, they were too loose--again. That stupid girl has no concept of moderation."

Really--they looked about the same as they always did. Leara bit her lip. "Well, I suppose you're the one who can feel it. But don't you think you're being a little hard on her? She's quite young, you know." Too young. Indeed, Lorn probably wouldn't have hired her if her father hadn't been so damn persistent, but she knew better than to say it aloud; if Rona knew that she'd only gotten the job by virtue of being Florian's daughter, her poor maid would never hear the end of it.

Rona sniffed. "Lady Leonora wasn't much older when she went to work for Lady Alina. I doubt she was so incompetent."

Incompetence. As if this had anything to do with it. Eleven-year-old steward's daughter or experienced, highly-skilled lady's maid extraordinaire, Rona had resolved to be unsatisfied and it wasn't that hard to figure out why. "Honey, I know you and Aspen were friends, but--"

"But what? She stood up for me and lost her job because of it?"

Leara hesitated. It was true... but then again so was everything else. Standing up for her lady or not, a servant couldn't chew out a knight--much less spit on him--and get away with it. Surely Rona understood that? "It's more complicated than that. If Lorn hadn't let her go, we would have risked offending Sir Lonriad--and by extension, his family. And considering how great of a mentor Lord Severin was to Lorn after your father died..."

"Leara, I doubt Lord Severin would have wanted her fired." Rona picked at the ribbon beneath her bust. That did look a little snug, Leara supposed; maybe Electra's exaggerated shortcomings weren't without basis. "Besides, didn't Lonriad insult our family first? He passed me over for a farm girl!"

But you didn't even love him, Leara wanted to remind her. You just wanted to marry someone in the area. "Rona, we'll find someone--"

"This isn't about that." All semblance of good posture abandoned, Rona slumped toward the foot of the bed, her golden head sinking into the pillow. "I just never knew you could miss someone so much."

NEXT CHAPTER: