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.”“I’ve been busy,” Lucy said.In fact, she avoided bringing lovers home, preferring by far to keep them away from Blythe, who would report all the details back to Laura Trenton.Not that Lucy’d had time, interest, or energy for any recently.“If you’re quite done with that fire, perhaps I could dress and have breakfast.” She shivered in the chill and reached for her dressing robe.Blythe sniffed, bustling around to snatch the garment.She held it for Lucy to step into, then buttoned it down the front.Lucy sighed and waited.Blythe had a very clear opinion about her job duties and Lucy was not allowed to interfere or avoid them, no matter how hard she tried.A knock at the door signaled the arrival of breakfast.Blythe answered, taking the broad tray into the sitting room and setting it on the table beside the remnants of the previous night’s snacks.Lucy sat with Blythe opposite.The other woman slapped at Lucy’s hands as she would have tried to uncover the dishes.“Stop that.Let a body do her work.”“That’s not what I pay you for.”“No? I’m yer companion and lady’s maid.I donna wake at this hour for my own health.”“And I have told you a hundred times to go ahead and sleep, that I could manage very well on my own.”Blythe snorted.“As if I’d go shirkin’ my duties.”Lucy stirred a dollop of honey into her tea and slathered butter on her toast.“I hired you because my mother would not stop pestering me about my complete inability to care for myself, and was on the verge of hiring someone intolerable to hound me every waking moment.What I pay you for, and what you consistently refuse to do, is live your own life in my home under the guise of being my companion and lady’s maid.”“What kind o’woman would I be if I took yer money without doin’ a lick of work? Besides, ye need lookin’ after.”“I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”“Yer mother donna seem to think so.”“My mother hardly thinks I can use a spoon without choking myself.If you want something to do, help Janet in the kitchen or visit the almshouses.Better yet, why don’t you and James start a family—have a dozen or two.That might keep you occupied and out of my hair.”“Yer mother’d only find somebody else.”“I’ll deal with that coil of sylveth when I come to it.If you want to be paid for doing something for me, then by all means, let it be for having children and distracting my mother.”“’Twould certainly be less aggravatin’ work,” Blythe said tartly, and stood up.“Now, better be quick about things.I’ll have Jamie flag a footspider afore he’s off to the docks.”James was a rigger.Every ship coming into port before the Chance storms had to be stripped, its yards, masts, and cordage taken down, overhauled, and stowed until the ship was fitted out again.Like most riggers, James had been a sailor, retiring once he’d been “spliced” to Blythe.He lived in Lucy’s house, performing maintenance in exchange for room and board.He was a quiet man, and patient, as he’d have to be married to Blythe.Perhaps Lucy should speak to him about starting a family….She daydreamed about a swarm of little Blythes carrying three-pronged spears.They surrounded their mother, poking and prodding until she tore at her hair and screamed, while Lucy sat in quiet solitude in her own quarters, untroubled by the ruckus.She smiled and drained her tea, burning her tongue on the hot liquid.When Blythe returned, she helped Lucy wriggle into her corset.Lucy held the bedpost, bracing her legs wide, as Blythe snugged it.It was not so tight she couldn’t breathe or walk briskly, but was nevertheless a nuisance.Still, it did good things for her figure, pushing up her ample breasts and thinning her waist.Next Lucy stepped into thin, close-fitting gray wool trousers and allowed Blythe to help her on with the overdress.It was made of Nardian tetch, a soft, durable material that did not readily show wear.Slits ran up the fronts of both thighs to her hips, allowing her free movement.Burgundy and gold embroidery circled the cuffs and square neckline in a wide band.Blythe laced it up the back.Lucy bent and slid on her midcalf boots.She put on her earrings and applied her cosmetics lightly while Blythe braided her hair, looping it up on her head in a fashionable, though sturdy, coif.It could withstand sea winds and rain.“Ye say ye donna need me, but I’d like t’see ye manage that on your own,” Blythe said smugly as she set aside the hairbrush.Lucy examined herself in the mirror.The twilight purple of the overdress was a good color for her, making her skin look fresh instead of sallow, and complementing her fiery hair.Lucy made a face at herself and swung her blue wool cloak over her shoulders.“I didn’t say I don’t need you.I said I wanted you to listen to me and stop hovering,” Lucy pointed out.She left Blythe and went into her office to retrieve the two blackmail letters from her lockbox.She slid them into a pocket inside her satchel and slung it over her shoulder beneath her cloak.She returned to her bedroom to collect her gloves, catching sight of her customs seal sitting in a small crystal bowl on her nightstand.Beside it was her pouch of seal blanks.She stopped short and stared.No—it was impossible.She went to the other side of her bed and picked her seal up, turning it over in her hand.“What’s the matter, then? Thought ye was in a hurry.”Lucy hardly heard Blythe’s pointed remark.Her fingers closed around the cool metal.How could she have forgotten to lock it up? She scowled, trying to remember returning home after the salvage.It was murky.No one else could take the seal from her waist, any more than one could remove her royal necklace.She must have taken it off.But she’d never leave it just sitting out.It didn’t matter that no one else could use it—that it was majickally keyed to respond only to her [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]