I awoke to a headache and the Unsettling, realization that I was alone. I opened one eye. The curtains were still drawn. The room held an oppressive stillness. There was no soft footfall approaching, No clatter of a silver tray being positioned beside the bed with precise alignment. No voice murmuring, “Good morning, my lord.” My eye twitched. “Sebastian,” I called Irritated feeling gypped.

The silence didn’t even flinch.

I sat up, brows knitting. He’s never late. Not once. Not in years. A creeping discomfort curled beneath my ribs—a deep-rooted offense. My hand reached to my temple, rubbing the sleep from my eye with disdain. “Brilliant. I’m being punished for something I haven’t even done yet.”

I tossed the blankets aside and stood. The floor was cold. Of course it was. The air bit at my skin like ice causing my face to grimace, and my nightshirt clung awkwardly to one side. “Lovely. Abandoned to the elements like a beggar in my own home.” *I made my way across the room, Crossing to the window, I tugged the curtains open myself. The light stung slightly, and I squinted as I looked out onto the estate grounds. The sky was clear—pale gold, soft clouds rolling in. *

Ugh

–Of course beautiful morning wasted on mismanagement. I passed the mirror and caught sight of myself—hair falling over one eye, posture uneven, one sleeve slipping from my shoulder. I stared. “Disgraceful.”

Sigh

“Where is he?” I muttered aloud. “Has he decided the contract no longer includes basic service, Or Perhaps my staff are going on strike. That would at least be entertaining.” a frown replaced the light smile of amusement that crossed my face for a moment as I swatted the thought of Sebastian protesting in my mind.

I returned to the bed and sat stiffly, glaring at the door. as though it might apologize. It didn’t.… “This is pathetic even for me,” I muttered. “I’m an earl, not some lost child waiting for a bedtime story…” I tugged the bell cord sharply.

Silence answered.

And my irritation followed “I swear, if he doesn't walk through that door in the next minute—flawlessly composed, tray in hand, and thoroughly ready to growl at my feet in apologies( as if that would ever happen )—someone is going to bleed for this." what in the devil is the use of a hell of a butler if he cannot manage a morning?