Becoming Sophia (33)

I hid the shock on my face at seeing such a party at my doorstep and moved aside to invite them in. At the last minute I remembered to curtsy and hoped that my stumbling was seen as respectful. There were three men; two of them held a formal invitation each, and the last just stood in front of them and looked official. He was rather round in the belly area and his wig seemed to have too much powder on it, but his clothes were clearly fine spun and tailored just for him. His shoes were shined and his cuffs all pressed; his nose was in it’s proper position in the air to prevent him from really having to look at the scrawny me-who was so below him. The other two seemed to eye me hungrily and I felt my cheeks flush under the heat of their gaze.

Pulling my shirt collar a little higher over my measly bust, I looked down at my shoes whilst addressing the royal messenger. “I shall tell my ladies that you are here; do you wish to be seated in the parlor?”

“Nay, I’m to be brief. Hurry up, girl, I don’t have all day.”

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