Book 5: Caught

Ingrid

The door doesn’t latch behind me.

Shit.

I whip around and watch… that groom in the veil slide into my room.

Confusion is a luxury. I throw myself across the tiny space and cover the slapdash arrangement of paper scraps I’ve been organizing my theories with on the desk. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“You do not need to be scared.” He shuts the door.

“Hell of a thing to say while closing us in.” If there were more fabric in this skirt, I could cover more—but maybe the skirt itself is enough to save me. I just wish that cook hadn’t burnt whatever they did. The scent of charcoal makes my thoughts fuzzy, even muddled by the stable-reek that hangs around this groom. “I am a respected member of this staff.”

“No, you’re not.” He takes a step closer.

Everything I’ve learned about defending myself in the last few years rattles through my mind. I reach behind me and unlatch the window. A stiff breeze almost yanks the s