The silver tray trembled slightly in the maid’s hands as she set a porcelain teacup down on the low marble table. Steam curled upward in pale ribbons, carrying with it the delicate fragrance of rose petals.

“Miss Ceci, your tea,” the maid said softly.

Ceci startled, nearly dropping the pillow she had been clutching to her chest for comfort. She quickly tossed it aside, her posture snapping into something prim, almost rehearsed. Her amber curls fell in a curtain over one shoulder as ...