**THE BRAZEN SERIES is part of the GOLDEN UNIVERSE**
♦YOU MUST HAVE READ BOOK ONE, A BRAZEN MAIDEN, TO READ THIS SEQUEL!♦
♦♦It is ALSO recommended that you read THE GOLDEN GIRL/DUCHESS/PRINCESS & QUEEN to better understand events in this novel, as...
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♪ Thought that I'd feel better But now I got a bellyache ♪ {Billie Eilish—Bellyache}
When she woke, suffocated by the heaps of blankets and furs on her father's former bed, Harriet tiptoed to the window and tore aside the thick drapes. Day had risen, and a soft blanket of winter sunlight swarmed from her gardens below, stretching to the city visible beyond the manor's fortifications. She smiled at the sight, but her lips tugged downward almost immediately—she had duties to perform, and no time to enjoy the weather.
Once bathed and dressed in an olive-green gown of velvet, Harriet hastened to Eugene's office—her office—on the first floor. Everything was as she last saw it—the plush chairs before the lengthy oak desk, their fabric imbued with a cigar stench. Eugene's massive, crimson cushioned seat tucked in, its rubies eye-catching as ever. The giant bookcases loaded with tomes of law, ethics, politics of European countries, and a few empty spaces gathering dust. And the sitting area off to the left, with wilting flowers on the tea-table.
She inched inside and lit the candles herself. And after pulling the curtains aside, she settled in the head-chair, her back stiff and her extremities tingling. And her stomach about to jump out her throat and land on the desk with a squelch.
Thank goodness I have not had breakfast.
She proceeded through the documents scattered before her. Lists of rents due from citizens, delivery dates from merchants, reports from bankers and blacksmiths, crop predictions from farmers. When she detected a few papers with new laws Eugene had been working on, she cringed. She yearned to tear them to shreds and throw them in the fire, but she understood that she might have a use for them, at some point.
Then there were the books; those loaded with numbers Harriet always adored looking at as a younger teenager. A few were open, showing lines and lines of expenses, and incoming sums without descriptions.
"Interesting," she said, shoving all else aside to focus on the bookkeeping. It was one thing she'd always done well, and her father had kept her from it—apparently, with reason. "Mystery money coming into our treasury, hm? That might be worth noting." She fished for a blank parchment, and as she seized her father's black-feathered quill, she gulped. How many times had she seen him using this quill to give her homework for her disobedience? Or groaning as he wrote a list of supplies for her to gather in town with Mrs. Banks?
Mrs. Banks... where is she?
It surprised Harriet that the steward's wife—the governess—hadn't been among the rest of the staff to welcome her home. Perhaps she'd been sound asleep or appointed elsewhere? Who knew what Eugene had assigned her while he was still in power.
Harriet prayed the woman was well and returned to her affairs.
***
Only pausing for a brief bite of lunch—a venison soup the cook was famous for—Harriet spent most of the day in the study, catching up on all delayed business. Rents, unsigned letters—some that she scrunched and tossed—pending petitions. It appeared that when he went to court, Eugene abandoned the city, and none of his advisors had stepped in to fix things. How many weeks or months had it been since Sir Thatcher had been at this desk to oversee his transactions? How many requests from citizens had been ignored?
