•T W E N T Y - O N E•

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♪ And I'm not breaking, I won't take itAnd I won't ever feel this way again ♪{Halsey—Killing Boys}

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♪ And I'm not breaking, I won't take it
And I won't ever feel this way again ♪
{Halsey—Killing Boys}

No matter how uncomfortable it was, Eugene's office chair had become Harriet. She molded into it, fitting atop its cushions as if she'd always belonged on them. There wasn't a day where she didn't sit before the desk and groan, grunt, even guffaw as she flipped through paperwork and reviewed the books. There were distractions—Prince Jules, then Johanna—but she always ended up drowning in documents and yawning until the sun went down.

The Prince didn't distract her as much as she'd expected him to. He kept to himself, though she almost wished he wouldn't. He... intrigued her. Their first exchange upon his arrival had left her curious; and their second, in her old room, tormented her. How did he manage to twist her stomach into knots but soothe her all at once?

But she refused to bother him, and only watched from afar as he cloaked himself and rode out the manor gates to explore the town. He did so after Johanna's arrival and returned at dusk. And today, Harriet saw him taking off as she rose from slumber, stretching in front of her window. The only meal they'd shared was yesterday's breakfast, and he never disturbed her, never even made it obvious he was there. The strangest part of it all was that she wished he would barge into her office and give her an excuse not to work.

"Miss?" The door creaked open, drawing Harriet's chin up from the stash of papers brought in by Jacob early that morning.

Jacob.

No, she hadn't forgotten how he made her feel, too. She'd dismissed him fast, claiming she had much to do—which wasn't a lie—and breathed in relief once he departed for errands in town. He and the Prince both swept her off her feet, and she was dizzy and distraught whenever they were near.

"Yes?" She spied Johanna creeping in and scoffed. "Miss? Please, do not call me that. Not you."

Johanna smirked as she fluttered over and plopped onto one of the chairs across the desk. "But I work for you." She wore one of Mrs. Banks' old dresses, stitched up and patched by Victoria. Harriet had hoped to gift Johanna with a brand new wardrobe, but they were running low on fabrics, and with money so scarce...

"You do, but I will not have you addressing me like so." Harriet scribbled a hasty signature and looked up. "You are family. And besides, Mrs. Banks mostly called me by my name."

Johanna's smirk widened. "Well in that case, Harriet, I have a letter for you." She pulled out a folded parchment from her robe and slipped it atop Harriet's paperwork.

The seal was one Harriet hated to recognize; the same that decorated the first message from her father. "Oh... lovely." She fumbled with the wax, broke it open, and unfolded it. "Oh... that man. That nerve."

Johanna stood and worked out the creases in her apron. "Your father?" Harriet nodded, and Johanna inched backward, intent on exiting the room. Her earlier amusement faded, replaced by discomfort. "Do you wish for privacy to read it? I have plenty of other duties to attend, so..."

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