SHE DANCED ALONE IN THE EMPTY BALLROOM AFTER MIDNIGHT-UNAWARE THE DUKE WAS WATCHING

her tea instead. The tea smelled of bergamot and something sharp beneath lines. Her hand did not shake, as she had heard worse from her aunt every morning for six years.

She had learned that the tea was still tea and that the bergamot was still there whether her aunt spoke or did not speak. “Do you understand me?” said her aunt.

“Yes, aunt. I will keep continue reading …