The Taming of Victoria Colton

Chapter Three

~Last one for tonight, then I'm done (zzz)~

Chapter Three

No person in good health should remain in bed after seven o’clock, or half-past seven, in the spring and summer; that may, in the present century, when the daughters of England are reproached with self-indulgence, be termed early rising.

~ The Habits of Good Society: A Handbook for Ladies and Gentlemen (The Last London Editor; 1860)

 

Vicky was going to murder her maid.

“Come on, miss,” the petite thing was saying sweetly, but with a definite note of command. She poked a finger into the huddled mass underneath several blankets. “Lady Colton and Lord Sinclair insist that you meet them downstairs for breakfast within the hour.”

Victoria grumbled inarticulately which was a good thing because the only words that came to mind were nothing pleasant to be uttered aloud.

“Miss Victoria, please,” the little maid, Bethany, implored. “They’ll not be too happy with me if I haven’t got you up yet.”

Blasted country hours, Vicky thought bitterly as she heavily threw the covers off her form and groggily lurched into an upright position. Her world tilted on its axis. When was the last time she got up at such indecent hours, she wondered? Her body was surely going to die. It was unnatural, getting up so early.

“Ugh.”

“There, now, miss. Was that so hard?” Bethany teased warmly earning a sleepy glower for her efforts.

The bathing and dressing process occurred in a dream-like state for Vicky. She numbly climbed into a morning-dress of soft yellow and only voiced protest when Bethany made a grab for the brush. After a brief and futile argument, the maid reluctant agreed to let Vicky do her own hair and departed with an uttered warning that she was expected down at breakfast in five minutes.

Utterly lazy and still feeling pangs of bitterness at her grandmother for bestowing her into this predicament, Vicky tossed the brush aside and hastily tied her hair to one side so that it fell over her one shoulder in a tangled mess. Honestly, it was all she could manage at this hour and it was so tangled and uncontrollable she feared she might burst into tears if she even attempted to straighten it out.

Gabriel, Henry and Delores were all at the breakfast table already, looking perky and awake which made Victoria even more annoyed than she should be. The last thing she wanted to do at this hour was make conversation. She knew she wasn’t capable of being polite. Even awake she wasn’t capable of it.

She dropped heavily into the nearest chair opposite Delores. “Coffee,” she croaked at a servant nearby.

“Absolutely not,” Delores piped up. “She’ll have tea.”

Vicky glowered at her before stating emphatically that she’ll have coffee. The other woman seemed to relent before Vicky settled back in her chair, cradling the cup between her fingers and sniffing the deliciously rich aroma welcomingly. God, she loathed mornings, especially early ones.

“Victoria is not a morning person,” Delores told Henry disapprovingly. “I don’t think she’s risen before noon since she was fourteen.”

Victoria made an inelegant sound and buried her nose in her coffee cup.

Gabriel stifled a small grin. “I rather enjoy the silence she provides this early,” he drawled.

It earned him a glare but no comment.