Mara gestured toward a chair. “May I interest you in a glass of wine?”
“Thank you, no. Not just now.”
“So . . . you’d like to speak with me?”
“What’s on your mind then?” Mara didn’t intend to be impolite, but the woman made her uncomfortable.
“I noticed you and your companion,” Therese said as she looked toward Nina, “and the infants,” she continued as her eyes shifted toward the girls, “in the dining room this evening.”
She sat forward, elbows on the table, touching together the tips of her fingers. She tilted her head to the side. “I thought you might be a trained Oathtaker when I noticed how carefully you surveyed the room—how aware of everyone you seemed.”
“And,” she hesitated, “I noticed your reaction to the news of Dixon Townsend.” She leaned in. “Tell me. How is he?”
A knock came at the door. The chambermaid inquired whether there was anything further they would require for the evening.
“Would you mind asking for a fresh pot of tea?” Mara asked Nina.
“Not at all.” Nina spoke with the maid. “It’ll be sent over directly,” she then said as she resumed her place on the edge of the bed.
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