Amelia sat on a chair placed far from where Warren and his father worked. She cared very little about the work they were doing and more about the chance she would get to speak to either man.
"To the left," Amelia snapped at the maid meant to be shading her. "I hope the palace maids will be far better trained than you. The sun is reaching me."
"Forgive me, Miss Amelia," the maid said, shifting the parasol so Amelia would be covered.
Amelia sighed, trying to be patient since a better time was coming. Soon, she wouldn't have to stomach her father's servants, and she would be the one to command hundreds of them.
Amelia eyed the key to her getting one step closer to the prince.
Stories about Penelope increased by the hour and as long as they were twisted to sound believable, these stories would not stop soon.
Amelia chuckled, thinking of the gossip she heard that a man of the court had loudly expressed that Penelope wasn't suited for the prince.
