She perched before the mirror as I brushed her limp curls. “Oh, I almost forgot. While you were fetching my evening respite, Yaga stopped in to drop off my hair rinse. She mentioned she’d be gone for quite some time. The two of you are close, are you not?”
“Yes, we are.” And I could have said my farewells if Penelope hadn’t developed a sudden craving for sweets.
“It’s too bad you missed her. It’s an excellent lesson in time management, don’t you agree?”
“Yes, my lady.”Flark you, my lady.
“Poor dear. No worries. You’ll see her long before you glimpse that comet.”
“You’re too kind.” I set the brush down with a clatter, offering a saccharine smile. “Shall I warm your sheets lest you catch a chill and die, my lady?”
Her nostrils flared, her eyes blazing with rage. “How dare—”
The floor shivered beneath my boots, vibrations racing up my legs. Paintings along the wall clacked against their hooks.
“Not another tremor.” Penelope clutched the seat of thetufted stool she perched on. The jolt pitched me sideways, and I caught her shoulder to steady myself.
“Get your hands off me, you insolent wretch.” She shrugged off my grip, and I quickly double-stepped to keep from toppling over.
“Apologies, miss.” Little idiot. I touched her all the time—bathing, dressing, powdering her royal buttocks.
“Enough is enough. I cannot stand this anymore,” Penelope cried over the racket, peering at herself in the wobbling mirror. “Look at the toll the stress is having on my complexion. Much more and I’ll look as worn and exhausted as you do.”
“Fates forbid,” I muttered, too loud, apparently.
“Do not speak to me so.” Her blotchy cheeks reddened. “You’ve no idea how many difficulties I face. If I’m to make a solid match, I must appear perfect at all times. Unlike you, with that wild mop of hair and plump figure, it’s important that I take care—”
Thunder cracked overhead, silencing her tirade. Glass rattled in the windowsills.
“What’s happening?” Penelope bellowed. “Why won’t it stop?”
“Have faith, my lady. I’m sure it will stop in a moment,” I said, offering empty platitudes. Would it stop? This was the worst one yet.
As if to mock me, the quake worsened. The polished floorboards pitched and rocked like the deck of a storm-tossed boat, the walls heaving. Thrown off balance, I stumbled sideways, my shoulder striking the wall.
Another crash of thunder shook the building. Penelope shrieked, a long, piercing howl, as though she were queen of the banshees. I covered my ears at the brain-stabbing sound. On hands and knees, she crawled under her dressing table.
Perfume bottles struck the floor, sharp floral notes filling the air. Dust sifted down from the ceiling like snow.
“Don’t stand there. Do something!” she bellowed.
“Like what?” I dared to shout back.
“Go get Daddy.”
Lord Richwell was probably deep in his cups at this hour and unlikely to rouse, even with all the ruckus.
Over Penelope’s whimpers, another sound cut through. Men shouted, metal clanged—the unmistakable crash of steel on steel. Shouts. A deep, guttural roar.
I sucked in a breath. “That sounds like soldiers fighting.”
Finally, the rumbling ceased. Penelope peeked out from her shelter, eyes bigger than her stocking-stuffed bosom. “Are we at war? Did some fiends use the tremors as a distraction to attack us?”
Who would bother? The Puritans had no real enemies.
Stories of the neighboring village of Graycott came to mind. How monsters had infiltrated their town. But that was just rumors and nonsense.
“Go check.” Penelope pointed a commanding finger at me from her hiding spot.
