Rosamund
I woke to an empty room and the sound of someone knocking.
I sat up slowly, blinking against the morning light. The couch across the room was vacant. Nevan was not in the room.
As I registered that, the knock came again.
"Enter," I called, my voice hoarse from the night's crying.
Two palace grooms stepped in. A young woman and an older woman who carried a pressed gown over her arm like a baby. They curtsied in unison and set about their work without waiting for instruction, one filling the basin with warm water while the other laid the gown across the bed.
The gown was ivory, embroidered with gold thread along the bodice and sleeves in a pattern of trailing leaves. It was one of the court gowns Mrs Harlow had prepared for me.
