The night was still and silent. Outside, heavy snow was falling. Dense snowflakes swirled in the howling, frigid wind, blanketing Duval Castle in a sea of white.
Murphy was looking over his ledgers by the fireplace when a knock came at the door.
He rose to open it and found Princess Margaret standing outside. Her wine-red velvet gown shimmered with a lavish luster under the light of the corridor's torches.
A crescent moon pattern, embroidered with silver thread at the hem of her skirt, appeared and disappeared with her movements. What was most eye-catching, however, were the exquisite black silk stockings on her legs. The fine material perfectly outlined the slender curves of her calves.
"Your Highness…" Murphy hurriedly stepped aside, his gaze lingering on her involuntarily.
The Princess glided into the room, bringing a delicate, elegant fragrance with her.
