right. She is !”
Portia’s mouth stopped moving, and her chin began to tremble.
Glory looked at Odessa plaintively.
“You two are driving me crazier than the loons in the dungeon. Go and find something else to do before I throw the both of you out of the window,” Odessa snarled.
Portia swallowed her food, plucked a pastry from the table, and took Ophelia’s hand with her free one. “Come on, Ophie, let’s find some nice flowers to arrange.”
Lucullia fidgeted. “Are the three of you really not done yet? How hard is it to sew a few flowers on a piece of lace? It shouldn’t have taken this long.”
“Forgive us, Your Highness,” said the seamstress, “but there are thousands, and the stitch you requested is the most intricate—”
Odessa give the seamstress the look . It was enough to say, Silence, fool. Princess gets what princess wants.
Glory smirked.
They toiled in silence for a few hours. Lucullia grew more and more fidgety. Odessa threatened to drive the sewing needle into Lucullia’s Achilles if she did not hold still. They would bicker, but Glory knew Odessa was the smarter, if younger sibling, and always won.
Suddenly, the doors of the room burst open and work ceased. All four young women looked up to see large vases of colorful flowers flow in. Portia, stout and rotund, was concealed behind one and Ophelia, tall and swan-like, behind the other, blubbering again. “I can not help it.”
“Too beautiful?” asked Portia, setting one of the vases down.
“No. Allergies,” Ophelia sniffled.
Portia crossed the room and knelt near Odessa.
“Do not touch my dress!” Lucullia warned.
Portia stuck out her pink little tongue from her chubby, freckled face. She leaned toward Odessa. “They’re here.”
Odessa handed her needle and thimble to a servant and motioned for Glory to do the same.
“Where are you two going?” Lucullia demanded.
“Do not concern yourself with it, sister.”
“It is my concern. The two of you are supposed to be on my time today.”
“Not while we welcome your guests, you greedy little priss,” Odessa chided.
Odessa marched to the bailey, with Glory filing behind, along with waddling, panting Portia, and languishing Ophelia. An ornate carriage crested the hill and rambled across the drawbridge. The horses, crowned with plumage and elaborate trappings, slowed to a halt, snorting and chomping on golden bits. The footman hopped off and opened the door. A raven-haired Venus of twenty-one stepped down, her eyes fixed on the footman as she slathered her charm upon him. The footman smiled foolishly and almost shut the door on the man who was also trying to exit the carriage.
Odessa stepped forward, offering her hands to the woman. “Alexa.”
“Odessa.”
Alexa regarded her other sisters as well. “So good to see…” Alexa’s eyes wandered to a stablehand across the yard. “You.”
Alexa’s head tilted to the side with a smile; the other sisters looked at each other knowingly. Their handsome, wealthy brother in law, Lord Coventry, was about to take Alexa’s arm when she parted company. “Excuse me, dears,” she said, “I need to see a man about a horse.”
Lord Coventry kissed the princesses’ cheeks chastely. He motioned to a trunk on the back of his carriage. “Gifts for my sisters. I’ll have my servants bring them to your quarters.” He trotted after Alexa, calling, “Oh, dearest! Wait for your Sugar Plum.”
Glory snorted, “Sugar Plum.”
Ophelia started crying. “I wish my Lord Gaylord would call me Sugar Plum!”
Odessa prodded her twin in the ribs with her elbow. “Oh, do try to compose yourself, Ophie.”
Portia brushed crumbs from her skirt and smoothed it out, not that it did much good. “Here comes Murtia.”
Another fine carriage pulled through the gate, much the same as the first. A heavy man threw open the door and only gave the girls a brief nod. “Bring the trunks up, Murtia,” he grunted as he lumbered
Portia’s mouth stopped moving, and her chin began to tremble.
Glory looked at Odessa plaintively.
“You two are driving me crazier than the loons in the dungeon. Go and find something else to do before I throw the both of you out of the window,” Odessa snarled.
Portia swallowed her food, plucked a pastry from the table, and took Ophelia’s hand with her free one. “Come on, Ophie, let’s find some nice flowers to arrange.”
Lucullia fidgeted. “Are the three of you really not done yet? How hard is it to sew a few flowers on a piece of lace? It shouldn’t have taken this long.”
“Forgive us, Your Highness,” said the seamstress, “but there are thousands, and the stitch you requested is the most intricate—”
Odessa give the seamstress the look . It was enough to say, Silence, fool. Princess gets what princess wants.
Glory smirked.
They toiled in silence for a few hours. Lucullia grew more and more fidgety. Odessa threatened to drive the sewing needle into Lucullia’s Achilles if she did not hold still. They would bicker, but Glory knew Odessa was the smarter, if younger sibling, and always won.
Suddenly, the doors of the room burst open and work ceased. All four young women looked up to see large vases of colorful flowers flow in. Portia, stout and rotund, was concealed behind one and Ophelia, tall and swan-like, behind the other, blubbering again. “I can not help it.”
“Too beautiful?” asked Portia, setting one of the vases down.
“No. Allergies,” Ophelia sniffled.
Portia crossed the room and knelt near Odessa.
“Do not touch my dress!” Lucullia warned.
Portia stuck out her pink little tongue from her chubby, freckled face. She leaned toward Odessa. “They’re here.”
Odessa handed her needle and thimble to a servant and motioned for Glory to do the same.
“Where are you two going?” Lucullia demanded.
“Do not concern yourself with it, sister.”
“It is my concern. The two of you are supposed to be on my time today.”
“Not while we welcome your guests, you greedy little priss,” Odessa chided.
Odessa marched to the bailey, with Glory filing behind, along with waddling, panting Portia, and languishing Ophelia. An ornate carriage crested the hill and rambled across the drawbridge. The horses, crowned with plumage and elaborate trappings, slowed to a halt, snorting and chomping on golden bits. The footman hopped off and opened the door. A raven-haired Venus of twenty-one stepped down, her eyes fixed on the footman as she slathered her charm upon him. The footman smiled foolishly and almost shut the door on the man who was also trying to exit the carriage.
Odessa stepped forward, offering her hands to the woman. “Alexa.”
“Odessa.”
Alexa regarded her other sisters as well. “So good to see…” Alexa’s eyes wandered to a stablehand across the yard. “You.”
Alexa’s head tilted to the side with a smile; the other sisters looked at each other knowingly. Their handsome, wealthy brother in law, Lord Coventry, was about to take Alexa’s arm when she parted company. “Excuse me, dears,” she said, “I need to see a man about a horse.”
Lord Coventry kissed the princesses’ cheeks chastely. He motioned to a trunk on the back of his carriage. “Gifts for my sisters. I’ll have my servants bring them to your quarters.” He trotted after Alexa, calling, “Oh, dearest! Wait for your Sugar Plum.”
Glory snorted, “Sugar Plum.”
Ophelia started crying. “I wish my Lord Gaylord would call me Sugar Plum!”
Odessa prodded her twin in the ribs with her elbow. “Oh, do try to compose yourself, Ophie.”
Portia brushed crumbs from her skirt and smoothed it out, not that it did much good. “Here comes Murtia.”
Another fine carriage pulled through the gate, much the same as the first. A heavy man threw open the door and only gave the girls a brief nod. “Bring the trunks up, Murtia,” he grunted as he lumbered
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