Chapter 33

Rain splashed on the embroidered tablecloth, harmonizing with the heavy notes of the cello from the record player.

Marilyn crossed her legs and bobbed her feet to the tempo as she looked out into the garden. Her mother surely would have lectured her about proper decorum for a lady if she saw her right now.

"Who dressed Sir Camellius?" Marilyn asked her attendant as she set down her teacup.

"His maid, my lady."

"Then what did you do?"

"Lord Camellius expressed discomfort, so we all left, my lady."

The other attendants exchanged looks as they noticed Marilyn's mood visibly plummeting.

"Is that so?" Marilyn replayed the scene from just before in her mind. She felt something was amiss the moment Camellius Bale appeared in that dress—accentuating such soft curves reserved for a woman—with his big, sparkling emerald eyes. And his voice was high as well, although that was probably because he had yet to reach manhood. Everything about him irked her.

How could I be jealous of a man?