01-24-2020, 08:25 AM
(This post was last modified: 02-05-2020, 08:38 PM by Zechariah Meijer.)
[The dreaded night preceding.]
If he did not, Nesah would have his head. Hopefully, if he did not mention the dreaded encounter with his more criminal brother, all of its scandal would lay as forgotten as his fortnightly letters to Mother.
Which always came back to haunt him. Still.
Zechariah was sitting on the not-bloody side of the couch, for the upholsterer had not yet been by. A chair that had not previously been anywhere on the property was sitting, cobwebbed and uneven on its legs, tucked away in a corner. He looked blandly to the tea, one brow arching as the tray shook on its way down. Then, he looked upon Rose; the tea seemed cherished in comparison.
"Miss Ward," he said succinctly. "Were you aware of Mr. Beaumont's conduct?"
If he did not, Nesah would have his head. Hopefully, if he did not mention the dreaded encounter with his more criminal brother, all of its scandal would lay as forgotten as his fortnightly letters to Mother.
Which always came back to haunt him. Still.
Zechariah was sitting on the not-bloody side of the couch, for the upholsterer had not yet been by. A chair that had not previously been anywhere on the property was sitting, cobwebbed and uneven on its legs, tucked away in a corner. He looked blandly to the tea, one brow arching as the tray shook on its way down. Then, he looked upon Rose; the tea seemed cherished in comparison.
"Miss Ward," he said succinctly. "Were you aware of Mr. Beaumont's conduct?"
