Anne could feel her chest tighten when the butler returned and invited her to see the Earl. She followed him, trying to walk steadily, but her legs suddenly felt weak. She was feeling remarkably hot. The skep with the lines was sitting uncomfortably on her hip. She hadn't dared to set it down for fear of getting dirt on to something.

By the time she was led into the room Lord Douglas was in, her face was redder than her hair. She did not notice the paintings, for as soon as she had glanced at the Earl, she turned her eyes down to avoid further embarrassment.

"Milord," she muttered. She tried to curtsy.

Alas, this was too much for her already trembling legs. The skep with the heavy lines pulled her out of balance. In an attempt to catch herself, she let go of the skep. One of the hooks scraped through her sleeve and cut her skin while she fell.

She was mortified. So much so that she hardly noticed the pain. "Oh..." She crawled up. Now the dirty lines were on the floor, the careful coils were tangled, and some of the snoods and hooks had caught on to one another. She could only hope that they hadn't damaged the carpet. "I'm sorry!"

Surely God was punishing for her disobedience!