Clara.
The head maid stood with her arms crossed, a knowing smirk playing on her lips as she took in the scene before her—Amelia, pressed up against the wall, her body trembling, Arthur behind her, unbothered by the intrusion.
Amelia's face burned with embarrassment. "Clara—!"
The older woman merely raised a brow. "Sneaking off in the middle of breakfast? My, my… how bold."
Arthur, completely unfazed, chuckled. "Caught us, did you?"
Clara's eyes flickered to Amelia, then back to Arthur. "Oh, I caught much more than that." She stepped closer, the amusement in her gaze shifting into something else—curiosity.
Arthur studied her, then smirked. "Enjoying the show?"
Clara tilted her head, the corner of her lips curving upward. "Depends… are you willing to share?"
Amelia's breath hitched. "W-what?"