She suddenly realized her shoes and stockings were hanging by the fountain. A flash of irritation went through her; she'd been caught at a distinct disadvantage.
She hated being discovered like this, hated being seen in her unguarded moments.
But she bit back the sharp retort on the tip of her tongue and tried to steady herself. "Is there something you need?"
"Lady Beatrice sent me. It's for the pre-wedding confession at the Church. We're supposed to go together." Eric looked at the rather disheveled Matilda and smiled. "But it seems you had no idea."
"I... I knew, of course. But I have the right to decide where I go."
"Of course, of course. It is your right, Marchioness. So your decision is...?"
"I'm not going," the Marchioness huffed, crossing her arms and turning her gaze away.
Yet after waiting for some time, she realized Eric had no intention of leaving. He remained standing right where he was.
"Why haven't you left yet?"
