The morning sun rose as always. It was undoubtedly still quite early however, to Raiva’s dismay.

Days are getting longer.

With a groan and and a stretch, Raiva sat up in bed.

Groggily, she rubbed her eye, trying to recall her plan for the day.

Bank, letters… The hairpin!

Raiva near jumped at the realization. Where did she leave it? On the table, underneath all the fabric?

Damn it. I’ll have to talk to her about it later today.

She stretched again, before fully getting out of bed. She mumbled to herself, “Bank, letters, hairpin,” while looking through her dressing room.

Her eyes landed on a sage-colored tea dress, the one that Shelly had clearly fallen in love with a few days prior. Along with the accompanying chemise and petticoat, she laid the dress out on the little dresser next to her mirror.

Shelly will have fun with this. I should take her out with me, for lunch. It’s been too long, really.

Figuring it was still a while until the usual wake-up knock on her door, she drew herself a bath. Too tired after her many encounters and goings-on yesterday, she had simply gone to bed without. Her skin felt grimy to her, her hair limp, and she felt her soul could use the bath as well.

The bath went on for longer than Raiva had planned. The water was so warm and comfortable that she simply sat, head devoid of complicated thoughts and feelings, that she was likely in the water for upwards of an hour.

Shelly should be here soon.

Taking a deep breath of the cold morning air, she briefly shivered in her robe. She sat on the padded stool in front of her full length dressing mirror and went to work.

First, carefully sectioning her hair. Then, starting at the bottom, working her way up with her fingers, untangling. And untangling. And untangling.

At last, her hair looked it’s usual self, with her soft, fiery red curls framing her entirely in their long, wild, voluminous, organized disarray.

Raiva sighed, resting her tired hands and arms. She turned around to glance out her window.

The sun is getting quite high now. What time is it?

She stood up and walked to the door.

I really should get myself a pocket watch.

Before she could open it to call out for Shelly however, a knock sounded.

“Yes, come in,” Raiva said, relieved.

“If you’ll excuse me,” a voice sounded. It was clearly not Shelly’s, given that the voice belonged to a man.

Instead, it belonged to a young, blonde man.

“Victor,” Raiva blurted out.

He smiled, enjoying her unfiltered surprise and, upon a second glance, her under-dressed appearance.

She waited for him to speak, but he did not. Instead, he simply looked at her politely, waiting for her to ask.

She sighed and shook her head, an exasperated but entertained smile on her face.

“And how may I help you, Victor?”

He bowed slightly, wearing the kind of smile an overly charming waiter might have.

“I’m afraid it’s about how I may help you, my lady.”

My lady?

Before she could interject, he continued, though he had clearly waited for her to draw in her breath to speak.

Rascal.

“Mrs. Shelly asked me to send her apologies, having to leave to tend to her daughter. A messenger boy came by earlier, nothing emergent,” he added seeing her tense up, “though requiring assistance regardless.”

Raiva collected herself, but was still somewhat concerned for Vera.

“Did you hear what was wrong, exactly?” she gestured for him to come in, pacing around the room by herself.

Is she sick? Should I call for a doctor? A physician? Did she get hurt?

Raiva had known Vera, Shelly and Frederick’s daughter for almost seven years now. She was a rowdy 17-year-old when she first saw Shelly chewing her out for skipping her chores to sneakily ride horses with a stable boy. Her and the stable boy, Cornelius, wound up getting married a few years later. He was steadily working his way up to Master of the Horse for one of the Knight Order’s Generals.

Shelly did of course still refer to the two as troublemakers, frequently recalling their antics when cleaning a particularly stubborn spot on the windows.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

“Victor,” she reiterated when he did not immediately respond. “Did you hear what happened to Vera?”

It was only now that he realized the depth of her concern.

He raised his hands in a motion aiming to calm her.

“Nothing happened to her, Raiva, she just took ill quite suddenly, and needs someone at her side from what I heard. I was on the stairs headed down, when I saw and heard them talk in the entrance.”

“Shelly wouldn’t leave if it wasn’t serious,” Raiva murmured, fervently scratching her eyebrow.

“Raiva,” Victor said, carefully leading her hand away from her face. He looked her calmly in the eye. She paused a moment.

“Raiva, she is fine, I promise you. It did not sound like an… illness.”

Raiva looked at him wide-eyed, panic spreading again.

“What do you mean, it didn’t sound like one? How does an illness sound?”

He took a deep breath.

“I believe Mrs. Shelly’s daughter may be… in the family way. From what I heard, anyhow.”

She stopped dead in her tracks.

Several seconds passed as Victor looked at her, hesitantly.

Then, Raiva burst out laughing. All tension disappeared from her body, as she sat down on the chest by the foot of her bed.

“I see,” she finally said.

Oh, Shelly must be overjoyed. I need to confirm with her and send Vera and Cornelius my congratulations.

“Well then,” Raiva continued, getting back to her feet, a little tired from the whirlwind of emotions. She laughed, “I suppose I should get dressed myself then, instead of waiting for Shelly.”

Unexpectedly, Victor did not make to leave, instead doing another little bow of his.

“And so we return to how I may help you, my lady,” his smile had returned. “Mrs. Shelly asked me to ask Ms. Octavia to assist in getting you dressed. She seems to have left for the day however, and so, here I am.”

Raiva blinked at him a few times.

He continued, amused.

“Ready to assist, my lady.”

“Assist me in getting dressed,” she repeated, in a confused tone. “Victor, I’m seeing two problems here.”

She smiled as she stood up, incredulous.

“And those would be?” he inquired, his expression unchanging.

“For one, you don’t know how to assist a lady in getting dressed and made up.”

“The other issue?”

“The other problem is that I am not particularly fond of being dressed by a man who would rather… tease me, every step of the way, while I am quite vulnerable and attempting to get a practical ordeal over and done with.”

His smile widened confidently.

“Then there are no problems, my lady.”

“No? How so?”

He deftly wound his waist length braid into a makeshift bun, as he made to respond.

“The first is in no way an issue, since I do have experience in assisting a lady with these matters,” he chuckled when he saw her raising an eyebrow. “You forget the flexible nature of my… services. I have assisted many a lady with this, in all manner, ranging from near platonic to, well, a scene type of situation.”

He made to enter her dressing area.

“And so we get to the second ‘problem’, which I feel is already answered. If you so desire, then my assistance will be as platonic as you would expect from a trusted maidservant. Such are my services.”

She laughed at the absurdity of the situation, as he walked to her mirror and saw the laid-out tea dress.

“A wonderful choice, my lady. Very complimentary of your colors.”

She shook her head once again in disbelief.

“Victor, are you trying to get me to hire you?”

He looked her in the eye and grinned.

“Yes.”

“I already told you, I’m not hiring you.”

“So you said, yes,” he responded unfazed. “Though I believe Mrs. Shelly left you in my care, and unless you wish for me to drop this facade of professionalism and attempt to seduce you in that thin, sheer robe of yours, thereby shirking this responsibility, then you will simply have to hire me. And I wouldn’t want to disappoint her.”

He leaned in her direction and whispered theatrically.

“She frightens me somewhat.”

Where do I even begin?

Once again a situation involving Victor had devolved into absurdity.

Raiva had gone from building up a strong, crimson blush, to holding back incredulous laughter at this, at times unbelievably enticing, at times oddly infantile and impulsive, young man.

What point is there in trying to fight it anymore?

She held back a laughter, and threw up her hands, in a theatrically exasperated manner.

“Fine, Victor, I’ll take professional trusted maidservant. For this one occasion of getting dressed and made up only.”

“Excellent choice, my lady,” he replied politely, as he bowed deeper than she was used to from him.

She walked up to where he was standing, taking the chemise and petticoat from him.

“But, as I do with Shelly, I will be putting on my undergarments myself. I will call you when I’m done.”

“As you wish,” he bowed in return, stepping towards her bedroom, sliding the door shut behind him.

It took her scarcely a minute and a half to get dressed, but she sat on the stool for another five, with the simple intention of seeing his reaction.

Will he get impatient? Be unfazed? Maybe simply think I am oddly slow?

She heard not a sound form him, until she stood and softly, barely audibly, said, “Victor.”

Promptly, the door opened softly, and he reappeared with her dress still in hand, though now prepared for being put on her. He had opened the buttons and lacing, exactly like how Shelly would have done it.

Not that I thought he lied, but this is still quite a sight.

He stepped towards her with a polite smile on his face again.

“May I?” he asked as he held up the dress gingerly.

“Yes,” she replied lifting her arms forwards the way she normally would.

“If you would please lift your arms a bit more upwards?”

“Oh, sure,” yes replied, briefly confused.

She understood why when he began lifting it onto her.

Ah, because he’s much taller than Shelly.

The dress went on smoothly, and true to habit, she turned towards the mirror while waiting for him to move her hair, and close up the dress, correcting the chemise and petticoat to sit correctly as he went.

And he did just that.

“This is excellent craftsmanship. I haven’t seen this type of lace panels before. Is it new, if I may ask?”

She nearly startled at how normal his small talk sounded.

“Yes,” she said, observing him closely in the mirror. “Octavia designed and made it for me. I’m ordering quite a few garments in order to fill up my seasonal wardrobes.”

“I see,” he replied in the same light tone. “Ms. Octavia is an excellent seamstress it would seem.”

“She is, isn’t she?”

Silence fell again, though it wasn’t of the uncomfortable kind.

Raiva simply listened to his breathing and the sound of the fabric, as she occasionally felt his fingers grazing her skin while performing his duties. He did nothing intentional, nor inappropriate, though she still felt a mild flush on her cheeks.

Deja vu.

After Victor finished with her dress she took her seat, letting him get to work on her hair. He did a simple crown braid, using only a white ribbon, resulting in something quite pretty and delicate in appearance.

Far beyond my skill level.

She admired his work in the mirror.

“You really do have quite deft hands, Victor.”

Watching him, Raiva saw the slightest lifting of the corner of his mouth, though he simply bowed in reply.

“Now then, if you will excuse me, my lady,” he said, making to leave the room.

She watched him leave, and just as he was about to exit the door, he turned and winked at her, then closed the door behind him.

Chuckling, she stood up and gave herself a once over.

Something tells me I will be hearing about this from him again soon.

Not knowing just how accurate her assessment was, she took a deep breath and exited her rooms to partake in breakfast.