Olivia froze, her dark gaze staring in the direction of Roderick's voice. Her lips pursed and it was a wonder it didn't stick that way with how often her features drew together so unbecomingly. The young woman's innermost sanctum was violated--by her brother of all people. A frustrated sigh left her lips and she tilted her head forward, using her free hand to massage the bridge of her nose.

"How could you do this to me? Why are you in my room? And why, for the love of all that is holy, are you hiding in my underwear?" she asked, exasperated. The stench of whiskey rolled from her mouth, permeating the air around her so thoroughly it's a wonder Roderick didn't have a contact buzz. She brought her glass to her mouth a moment later and took a large gulp of the amber liquid before shifting her legs and skirts in a manner that was much more appropriate. Then she struck a match and began lighting the candles, which were perilously close to her clothes. As the light flickered, a drawn portrait of her betrothed appeared in the orange glow. One might argue that Olivia lost her mind.