"No respect for the dead." His words came out in silent whispers, his teeth clenched.
A small smile tugged on her lips. "Respect is earned in life, my lord. When a man fails to earn respect in life, it cannot suddenly be bestowed on him simply becau...
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The blue fabric complimented her eyes perfectly, Beatrice thought, a small smile pulling at the edges of her lips as she stared at her image in the mirror that morning. It didn't matter that the dress belonged to Regina, nor was it of any consequence that it was of the poorest quality there was. It was lovely—she was lovely, and perhaps once Camden saw her again, he would be just as pleased. Perhaps he would insist she sleeps in his arms tonight like she had done the evening before.
Her smile broadened, and fearing Regina would notice and get suspicious, she bowed her head slightly as the young maid braided her hair. The evening before had been unlike anything Beatrice had ever experienced, the mere memory of it causing her heart to race. They had slept together, perhaps not as a couple, but in the literal form; she had been beside him, in his arms, on his bed. There had been no barrier between their bodies, and in the serenity of the moment, they had both fallen asleep.
It was madness.
Still, she longed to do it again.
"I'm done, my lady."
Beatrice glanced up just as Regina stepped back to reveal the finished hairdo. It was perfect. Her hair had been swept completely from her face, forming a crown of braids on top her head. Regina had also managed to incorporate several combs into the braid so that it appeared like she had stuck flowers in her hair.
"It's perfect." Beatrice smiled in appreciation, rising to her feet.
Fully dressed, she exited her room joyfully, and taking measured steps toward Camden's room, she fought to keep from limping. She reached Camden's room, a small frown claiming her face at the sight of the strange man who stood guarding the door. It was unfortunate, but Beatrice had hoped to find Camden alone and to perhaps spend time with him without the judgemental, intrusive eyes of strangers.
"My lady." He turned to her, bowing his bald head slightly.
Straightening, she swallowed. "I shall see Lord Camden."
The man shook his head in refusal. "I'm afraid my lord is indisposed at the moment."
"Is he hurt?!" she gasped. Of course he was hurt, he had fallen down a flight of stairs! She had pushed him down those stairs! Perhaps his injuries had worsened. If that was the case, she was to blame.
"My lord gave strict instructions; he is unwilling to be disturbed."
"Yes, but I'm certain he shall see me." She wanted to see him; to make certain he was alright, to kiss away his pain if he wasn't.
Stepping forward, she reached for the knob, but the man stepped to the side, blocking her path.
"My lord's instructions were clear, my lady; he shall not be seeing anyone today," he said sharply.
Her frown deepened. "Perhaps if you inform him of who it is that is here to see him."
Stubbornly, the man shook his head, annoying Beatrice. "He shall not be seeing you either, my lady."
