Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Within the carriage. Two perfectly fine ladies stripped down to their undergarments.

Slipping into Roxy's dress. Sofia winced as the rough, bobbled threads dragged over her soft skin.

“How awful. They must wear this material each day, every day.”

“Indeed. Not one ounce of this fibre was spat from the anus of a tropical Arachnid.”

Sofia briefly snorted a laugh.

The Lady Moggerhanger snuck glances at Sofia as she stripped down. Roxy's lavender-coloured dress fit the Witch well. They were of a similar size and build. Moggerhanger discreetly admired Sofia's full swell and pertness of breasts, the flat plain of her firm stomach, and the shapely length of each leg. Roxy's dress fit Moggerhanger in width but less in length due to the aristocrats' extraordinary height. She would make it work for a pint and a roast dinner though.

Eularia was aging rapidly—that much she knew. She thought her once-taught skin had loosened around her neck, akin to a Turkey’s. Her famed cheekbones were no longer up to the task of preventing her face from sagging downwards. Dark circles were now permanent tattoos under her eyes as lines and wrinkles stretched outwards across her skin.

Disrobing beside the far younger Sofia in such proximity was far more torment than she might have imagined.

“I envy you. Enjoy youth while it lasts.” She whispered across the carriage.

“My Charles has no doubt found himself distracted by a younger model. Just as attractive as yourself, I'd imagine.

“Then trade him in. Why lower yourself to such antics when you're, if you don't mind me saying so, such a strong-willed Snapdragon of a woman?” Sofia offered the most backhanded compliments.

“For love, I suppose. We endure for love.” Eularia shrugged.

Sofia burst out into rapturous laughter.

Moggerhanger frowned immediately. Her expression demanded an explanation from a still-smiling Sofia.

“Love. What nonsense. You've read far too much poetry and epic tales of romance. Love is a trick that nature plays on us to make us reproduce. I shall play no part in it.”

Sofia made final adjustments to Roxy's dress before stroking her hair. It was still pulled up and pinned at the front like a fine lady for a grand ball, not a back-alley Tavern.

For once, Moggerhanger was at a loss for words. Briefly, she felt sorry for Sofia. She was so young yet so dark and damaged, so bitter and lacking in light.

Sofia meticulously folded her delicate silk gown with military precision before a slack-jawed Eularia.

“Now lust, that I will give credence to. Seduction, absolutely!  Both are the greater, far more powerful arsenals of romance. Much more so than Love has ever been. Love leads strong women like us to ruin.”

“So, that is how you got Miss Jackson to help you, your Feminine Wiles and blatant sexuality. You're playing on her confusion and denials. Her closeted self-doubt.

Sofia paused…turning to face Eularia in the confined space.

“Blatant sexuality? Do you disapprove of sex and seduction between women?”

“Certainly not! On the contrary, I applaud it. I do not believe there is a single heterosexual person within my print room. Aside from myself and the dog, of course.”

Sofia quirked a brow, not wanting to open the can of worms and how on earth one might ascertain the sexuality of a canine. Moggerhanger was most peculiar beyond eccentric.

“No. Your gender does not bother me. However, your intentions towards Miss Jackson do. I've grown somewhat fond of her over these few months. She is illiterate, foulmouthed, and has the fashion sense of a court jester, but she is loyal, brave, and kind.”

Sofia raised her chin proudly, her eyes not leaving Moggerhanger’s as she spoke of her admiration for the heroic Nell Jackson.

“I simply despise the thought of such a good heart in the teeth of some predatory harlot.”

Sofia admired Eularia's guts; a smirk pulled at the corner of the sorceress’s lips.

“I do wish you were direct and spoke your mind.” Sofia sarcastically replied.

The two stood in silence. Sofia’s darkness always managed to raise its head. Had she given more away to Moggerhanger than she wished? Perhaps her automated, cold responses had given the wrong impression. Since that fateful night dispatching Poynton, the infamous Nelly Jackson had been very much on the dark sorceress's mind. No, Sofia wished her flirtations were premeditated; the truth was, she could not stop herself from seeking the attention of the highwaywoman.  So early in her company, Sofia felt discomfort when the renegade left her side.

This awkward silence, Sofia needed it to end. Moggerhanger read the younger woman's mind.

“Let's get these pins out of your hair.  Eularia gestured for Sofia to sit down.”

These common clothes, and might I say, divine hair doo of yours…they simply do not go together. I will assist you. Warily, Sofia did as instructed, and Moggerhanger began to pull out the pins.

Long hair was all at once set free at the front. Each pin removed released a torrent of dark trestles that reached down to the swell of firm breasts. Reams of swirling curls fell artfully, smothering Sofia's perpetual broodiness. Eularia caught a faint scent of rose petals as she fluffed the girl's thick mane.

 In a bizarre twist of maternal instinct. Eularia gently swept several errant hairs from Sofia’s chiseled features, organizing her locks and making those angled, handsome characteristics seem softer and feminine. A much more innocent-looking young woman came to the surface in the coach light.

The dark curtain of hair now framing Sofia's face made that ice-blue gaze far more striking. Full, puffy lips further complimented her strong jaw and high cheekbones. Eularia silently admired the prominent ridge of The Lady Wilmot's top lip, which simply begged to be suckled on.

“Well, Goodbye Lady Wilmot and Hello - Miss Sofia Blancheford.” Eularia meowed.

“I do not recall the last time I heard that name.” Sofia faintly whispered.

Moggerhanger gently lifted Sofia's chin with her fingertips so she could inspect her good looks further.

“My goodness. You are a stunning woman, aren’t you? Under all that wrath and shadow. Such a pretty girl with such a dark heart. Whatever could have happened to you to make you this way?”

Sofia maintained a stoic gaze. The lady Moggerhanger was a wise woman. She noted something stirring behind Sofia's eyes as she offered her kind words. Was this young woman never shown thoughtfulness, sympathy…, or real friendship?  Perhaps a mother's love taken far too soon was too fatal a blow. The lady Moggerhanger knew such a loss. It made for the most frosty, unfeeling of little girls.

Sofia was now vulnerable, exposed, and defensive under Eularia’s scrutiny.

“I do not require your sympathy nor your misguided observations.”

“I am not offering you sympathy. But I will offer you a warning if you’re playing games and hurt the heart of Nell Jackson. I shall hunt you down and kill you in your sleep!”

Sofia believed Moggerhanger's threat to be legitimate; she cared for Nell Jackson.

“Then let me reassure you. As soon as I locate Thomas, I am gone. The moment I am no longer on the run and the Blancheford fortune is back in my control, neither you nor the legendary Nell Jackson will have to see me again.”

Eularia nodded her satisfaction at the thought of Sofia as far away from Nell as possible.

 “I will take back what belongs to Thomas and me.  Whether I achieve that through the aid of Miss Jackson or the devil himself, I truly don’t care. I was rather hoping to avoid the latter. Although, it seems he is rather fond of me.” Sofia winked, teasing Eularia gleefully.

The Copper Kettle – London, England.

Steadying her nerve, Sofia took a breath as she stepped through the doorway into the flickering candlelight of the pub. A rowdy orchestra of male voices debating, laughing, and howling rapturously filled the cramped space of this old Tavern. The Lady caught the scent of oats, grains, and barley. A sootiness coated the walls and ceiling as an open fire pit raged dangerously in the corner of the low-ceiling dwelling. Eularia placed a gentle hand on Sofia’s back, ushering the public house virgin through the cluttered bodies…. straight into the path of Nell Jackson.

Nell took note of Eularia first, and then her expression significantly altered when she took in Sofia. Never a slouch and ordinarily so dexterous, Nell fumbled with her jar of ale as the drink almost slipped from her fingers. Was this even the same woman before her? An ache knotted itself deep into the left of Nell’s chest; a flood of something she could not place descended downwards and spread out satisfyingly in her lower region as blue eyes befell hazel.

Nell opened her mouth to speak but found herself mute. Eularia rolled her eyes as Nell's brain short-circuited on her first glance at the Wonderous Wiccan Woman.

Rasselas threw an arm over a shell-shocked Nell's shoulder, unaware that his officer in charge was incapacitated and without authority before the bewitching Sofia Blancheford.

“Sofia! Ha-ha! You look amazing. Wow, you look like an ordinary girl!” Rasselas eagerly complimented his friend.

“Really? How awful,” Sofia groaned.

Rasselas speedily led Sofia away, taking her by the hand and dragging her to an inviting nook in the pub's corner from prying eyes.

Nell's attention remained on Sofia’s form like a bloodhound seeking out the kill of the hunt. Across the room, Sofia smiled broadly when in conversation with Rasselas. The extent of her charm had Nell nailed to the old floorboards of this quirky little place. The usually moody Sofia should think to smile more often, thought Nell. The Wilmot Woman, she was very attractive.

Sofia’s eyes darted about the cluster of bodies within the alehouse before landing on her target…Nell Jackson. The two held each other's gaze. Eularia watched as the rapid rise and fall of both girls’ chests worked in perfect unison. An erratic heartbeat and bubbling blood pressure fuelled a perfect synergy that dragged the good Nell Jackson towards the cliff edge that was the Villainous Sofia Wilmot. As the inappropriate in-length stare went on, a pent-up desire and attraction were evident to any keen observer.

Eularia looked back and forth between the two.

“I rather think you are in a great deal of trouble, Miss Jackson.” Eularia couldn’t help but smile.

“What?” Nell mumbled.

As the evening progressed, Sofia grew less uncomfortable with her surroundings; dare she think it, but she was enjoying herself. This grotty, rat-riddled hole had a certain charm and ambiance she had never experienced. She felt so relaxed in this unbuttoned world. She no longer startled when one patron would tumble over another. Fists swinging and ale spilling out across creaky floorboards as men fought wildly. Neither brute seemed able to recall what had led them to be upset to begin with, such was the level of alcohol flooding through their bloodstreams.

Talking of alcohol in the blood, Sofia smiled to herself as Moggerhanger clung to Nell across the other side of the bar. Her movements were uncoordinated as more of her drink met the saw-dust-covered floor than her lips. Nell had kept her distance from the discombobulating Sofia for most of the evening.

“So…where do you think Thomas might be?” Rasselas fought to get Sofia's attention as her eyes remained on Nell.

“Hello?” Rasselas waved a hand before a lost-looking Sofia.

“Oh, my apologies. What did you ask? How awfully rude of me to have you repeat yourself.

Rasselas looked back over towards Sofia’s medusa.

“Thomas, where do you suspect him to be?”

Sofia’s expression turned darker.

“I fear associates of Poynton may have taken him. I worry they’re planning on using him as some form of …”

“Blackmail?” Rasselas surmised.

“Perhaps. They’re somewhat desperate for me to fill the void Poynton has left. Quite flattering, really; one mustn’t grumble at being so in demand.”

“And you’ve told them where to go! Told them to get lost!” Rasselas prayed Sofia would say yes.

“I have spoken of terms, but they found my requests most disagreeable. Since that last meeting, it seems whenever I channel this Wiccan gift, I attract dark shades and a creature. It might be that I am accidentally conjuring it, or they are…”

“Tracking you when you use your powers.” Again, Rasselas finished Sofia's sentence.

“It does at times seem so. Like a beacon, I use these gifts, and they find me, or this dreadful creature does.”

Sofia looked about the bar area, suddenly aware of several curious gazes cast in her direction. Had she been recognized?

“Have you told Nell about all this?”

“I would if she had the courage to sit with me.” Sofia scoffed.

Rasselas looked over at Nell. She had struggled to keep her eyes off Sofia all evening but did not engage with her. She left Sofia in his sole care all evening.

“Yeah, it's not like Nell to be so withdrawn. I wonder what’s got into her?”

“I unnerve her more easily than she would like to confess.” Sofia took a sip of her Rum as she felt more attention from the gathered crowds aimed in her direction.

Rasselas noted her concern.

“Sofia don’t worry about it. I don’t think they realize who you are.”

“But they are staring so intently.”

Rasselas coughed up a mighty laugh.

“What on earth? Are you mocking me, dear friend?”

“No, it's just. They're blokes in a pub, and you're the most beautiful woman here. They're just waiting for me to leave you alone. Soon as I’m gone, they’ll be over like a shot, You will have a big line of them queuing up for your hand.”

“May I implore you not to leave my side then.” Sofia quipped.

“Of course, I won't leave you. I…I know they're not… your type. You know, you like…”

Sofia smiled broadly as Rasselas stumbled over his words.

“You're a…

“A witch?” Sofia played dumb.

No…

“A Brunette? Sofia's smile broadened as she teased.

“No!” Rasselas blushed as Sofia laughed loudly…gaining Nell’s attention.

“A Deviant! That's what my father called me, do you remember?”

“I remember.” Rasselas grimaced at the memory of Sofia being caught red-handed with her lady-in-waiting.

“I give up. I don’t know what to call it.” Rasselas hid his face in his hands.

Sofia reassuringly squeezed her old friend's hand as their laughter subsided.

“Maybe one day, people like me won't have to call it anything. We shall have our communities and pubs where I shan’t mind being the object of the patron's desires.” Sofia winked.

“Amen.” Rasselas raised his glass to Sofia.

As the pub traffic became heavier, Sofia felt the weight of her evening begin to take its toll.

“Rasselas, I wonder if you'd be so good as to escort me to our room.”

“Of course, we're right above the pub. I think Nell bagged us all the family suite. Are you all right sharing?

“I've spent more nights than I ever dreamed sleeping under the stars with Thomas on the run. I'm sure I can share a cot with a dear friend.”

Discreetly, the two childhood friends slipped out from the small table in the nook and headed for the stairs. Light-footed and avoiding Sofia’s would-be suitors, they reached the refuge at the foot of the stairs to the lodgings above.

“You alright from here? I need to pee.” Rasselas covered his crotch with his hands. Bouncing on the spot like a toddler,

Sofia sniggered – “of course. Just give me the key.”

For a moment, Rasselas hesitated before he fished the length of iron from his jacket pocket.

“Wait, you're not gonna…run, are you?” His tone was so downhearted.

“Of course not. Where would I go? And now I have you back at my side. As you have always been.” Sofia cupped Rasselas’s face in her hand. Soothing his concern immediately.

“You’re just after the best side of the bed first,”

Sofia laughed.

As soon as the door closed behind her, Sofia sank back into the wooden panel. Her head landed with a gentle thud against the oak surface behind. Blowing a sad sigh, Sofia cast her eyes up to the ceiling and focused on the simple treacherous journey of a spider above.

“Nell Jackson…. How dare you make me feel this way.” She uttered in the privacy and silence.

Sofia allowed herself a brief smile and disbelieving shake of the head. It had wounded her, Nell. With her back turned to her for most of the evening, she stole constant glances, leaving the lady feeling unrequited and alone. The feared villainess hated that it bothered her so.

Gathering herself together. The lady Wilmot raised her chin, steadied her breath, and thought about getting ready for bed. With great relief, she peeled Roxy’s flimsy cotton dress from her form, tossing it on a nearby chair as she freed herself from her undergarments.  “What a day!”

In the bar below

“Where has she gone!” Nell frantically searched the bar area. Grabbing Rasselas by the lapels as he returned from the water closet.

“What part of don’t let her out of your sight was unclear!” Nell barked.

“Whoa! She went to bed, Nell. That’s all.”

“You fell for that, did ya!” Nell shook her head in disbelief.

“Whatever is going on.” Moggerhanger drunkenly stumbled into the heated conversation.

“He’s been tricked! She is probably halfway to the dark forest by now! Get out of my way,” Nell released Rasselas as she hot footed it toward the stairs in pursuit of Sofia.

“She's gone to bed! If you'd give her the time of day, there are things you need to know, Nell. Somethings after her!”  Rasselas screamed once more at the retreating Nell.

Dashing up the staircase, Nell rushed the door to the bedchamber, shoulder first and all but taking the thick slab of wood off its hinges….Nell was met with a gift she had neither expected nor prepared her nerve.

“Shit! I'm sorry.” Turning quickly, the usually cock sure girl pulled her tricorn hat from her head and stood to attention respectfully... all with her back turned to an unapologetically nude Lady Wilmot.

Glancing down at her crotch, the heated renegade cursed the instant betrayal of her loins. As Sofia walked, Nell had caught a bounce of full breast and a thicket of dark hair between shapely thighs. An inexcusable swelling and tightness exploded within the highwaywoman's britches … forcing her to stand perfectly still for fear of causing any unwanted friction that might further her sudden arousal at the sight of this woman laid bare. Sofia was naked, beautiful, and quite ready for inspection.

“I …I should have knocked. My old Mum always taught me to do that.” Nell sighed, thinking of her late mother's disappointment at her lack of manners.

“It’s fine. We’re all girls together, are we not. You thought I’d run, didn’t you.” Sofia gruffly responded.

That deep, well-spoken resonance only further compounded Nell's arousal. Throwing a hangman's noose around her resistance and choking the denial out of her once more.

“I’m tight, Sofia… I mean! It will be tight to find Thomas before folks around here recognize you. Your bloody picture is everywhere now, all over town, right next to that rat brother of yours.

A knowing smirk lingered at the corner of Sofia’s mouth; such was Nell’s telltale slip of the tongue. Tight, how fortunate a fumble, how perfectly accurate a description of Nell's current state of redress.

The lady herself was not faring much better. She took in the broadness of Nell’s shoulders from behind then the perfect V-shape of her back down to her waist. Nell was far more lythe and slender of hip than Sofia, but her firm-looking, generous-sized rump gave away an altogether female figure. Yet Sofia’s gaze settled on one part of Nell alone: her hands. Now curling into fists, she kept her back to the Lady and her eyes from her willing form.

“You right now? Are you all covered up? Nell stammered, still unwilling to turn around.

“Why can you not face me?” Sofia whispered into the dying candlelight as the thickest column of wax in the room quickly drowned its wick. Soon, they would be plunged into moonlight alone.

“Because it’s not polite. It's ill-mannered. You're supposed to be the Toff; you're all about decorum and decency.” Nell's reply was softer in tenor than expected.

“And are your thoughts not decent, Miss Jackson?”

Sofia glanced at Nell’s fists again as they clenched further, painfully balled up and soldered to her sides.

Sofia cleared her throat, an unexpected nervousness down tuning the chord of her voice.

“I wish I could say your absence this evening was not missed, but your back turned on me was just as disheartening then as it is now.”

“I'm sorry.” Nell still refused to turn around.

“Tell me this. Is it because of what Thomas and I did? Do I disgust you still?”

Nell paused. This long, drawn-out delay in response forced Sofia to dampen down a scream from within. “Answer Woman, God damn you.” The witch whispered within the awkward silence.

“I already said I don’t trust ya. But it's not that.” Nell’s voice trailed off as she finally replied.

“Then what? What do you fear most? Is it that I might turn you into something unspeakable, or that you rather like the idea of letting me?”

Nell spat out a nervous laugh.

“Full of yourself…ain’t ya.”

“I'd much rather be full of you.” Sofia instantly replied. She was quick, too quick. A wit as sharp as a knife-edge.

Nell dry swallowed.

  “Bloody hell, you’ve got a way with words.”

“Turn around.” Sofia once more demanded

“I can't do that.”

Nell let out a ragged breath. She closed her eyes tightly as she heard the soft padding of Sofia’s bare feet approaching her.

“Why ever not? There is nothing wrong with what we are.” Sofia proudly stated.

Nell felt a warmth at her back, then the supple press of Sofia’s breast on her person. She sucked in a gasp of air as the softness of her lady's breath tickled the fine hairs of her neck; Sofia was respectful enough not to touch.

However, Sofia’s lips sneaked right by Nell's ear; on cue, the candlelight finally died, and they were plunged into the moonlight.

“Turn around and touch me,”

“Please, don’t. Sofia.” Nell whispered back.

From behind, Sofia’s arms looped around Nell’s hips until her fingertips reached a brass belt buckle. Gingerly, the usually forward Sofia hesitated as an unexpected bolt of apprehension had her stand down.

“Should I touch you, would you prefer that?” Sofia bravely asked. Doubting herself for a moment, why did this feel different from her previous dalliances?

Still, the Lady toyed with the metal of Nell’s belt.

Nell's shaking hand landed on Sofia’s, halting her removal of the pesky clasp.

“I thought you didn’t ask a woman to dance a third time,” Nell said in a barely audible tone.

“For you…I would make an exception.” Sofia’s words dripped into Nell’s ear. Those soft lips hovered by a sensitive lobe, that mouth travelled a daring path from Nell’s ear, breezing over a slender neck to the dip of her clavicle. The sorceress was exhilarated to feel Nell sink into the contact rather than pull away.

Sofia's lips were almost upon Nell's exposed throat as the highwaywoman closed her eyes. Tipping her head helpfully to give the dark Sofia better access.

“Nell Jackson,” Sofia whispered teasingly into the highwaywoman's ear.

At that, the door once more burst open.  Drunk…Moggerhanger was halfway through a sentence on entry before coming to a screeching halt at the sight before her. She all but dropped dead at the scene at hand.

Sofia took a big step away from Nell. Like a vampire suddenly exposed to sunlight.

“Your timing is unforgivably poor!” Sofia's eyes darkened instantly on Eularia.

“Well! Lady Wilmot! You are indeed a fine specimen. I recall when my breasts turned upwards as yours do now, proudly facing more of the sky than the flooring; such is the gift of youth. My tits are far closer to my naval now than my armpits. You though, are just spectacular.

“Oh my god, please shut your trap, Moggers!” Nell closed her eyes, turning her face to the rafters as her skin glowed deep red with embarrassment for herself and the Lady Moggerhanger.

“Do you require a chair, Miss Jackson? I'm rather surprised you're still on your feet. Would a stiff drink help, perhaps? How gallant of you to keep your eyes away from her.”

“Honestly, the two of you together. So handsome, so …. dripping with tension and promise. I've written something utterly salacious and degenerate about the two of you.”

“What!” Nell called out just before Sofia chimed in. The young brunette was now pulling a night dress over her nude form, much to Nell's relief.

“Of course. There isn’t a chance I'm missing out on this untouched market—lesbian erotism. I shall sell a library of filth-ridden smut pertaining to the two of you! I'll change your names, of course. All fictitious but, my god, enticing and scandalous.

“The rigid, uptight daughter of riches and aristocracy and chimney sweeps daughter.”

“Err, I think you’ll find my dad owned a pub.” Nell quickly corrected.

Moggerhanger went on, great mouthfuls of wine swishing about her glass as she stumbled drunkenly about the bedroom space,

“It will be a page-turner! One desperate for the firm grip of a rough and ready commoner, the other frantic to rip into the silk underwear of real posh totty! The soft skin of a lady ravaged by the callous hands of a butcher's daughter.” Moggerhanger sighed when recanting her creativity and vision.

“Pub! I grew up in a pub! I'm a barkeep's daughter you mad old cow!” Nell raised her voice.

“It’s a work of fiction! Like your sexual desire for the females of the species. It's all a terrible lie, isn’t it? You like a stiff cock, do you not?” Eularia let out a loud hiccup as she walked unsteadily towards Sofia. She was so utterly inebriated she could barely walk; Sofia merely quirked a brow as Moggerhanger almost tippled over.

“Miss, Wilford, Blanhemot? No, that’s not it either…whatever your name is, I rather hoped you might proofread the draft chapters of my steamy epic, you being seemingly so much more well-practiced in lesbianism than Miss Jackson.”

Nell groaned audibly as Eularia made such a show of herself before Sofia.

“I did wonder, my dear, why your father went through so many maids and housekeepers. Did you fuck them all, I wonder?” Eularia guffawed.

“Star-crossed lovers. From different sides of the dusty path but wanting the same desperate, sticky, wet liaisons under the cover of dark. The lady of the house with a bit of rough common rutting on top of her!” Eularia cackled.

“On top? I rather think not.  Sofia suddenly stated, narrowing her eyes on Nell as a devilish smile pulled at the corner of her lips, forcing a gulp from Nell Jackson's throat.

“Yes! Yes, of course. Why did I not see it? You're a Dom, as the French say.  The leather glove as opposed to silk. Oh. I shall have to rewrite the entirety of chapter four: the dark scowling brow and piercing blue eyes. I bet you have them trussed up like turkeys to the slaughter. Although I should warn you, Miss Jackson is rather competent at freeing herself from knots.”

“I've never had need of restraints; I don’t struggle to garner obedience from a woman in my bed; they're usually rather good girls for their mistress.” Sofia was enjoying teasing Eularia.

“Miss Blancheford, really! You are a machine!” Eularia gasped merrily.

“Right! That’s it!” Nell stormed out, accidentally bumping into Eularia and slamming the door as she fled; the usual light-footed, skilled renegade missed several stairs as she sprinted back to the safety of the bar.

“You alright, governor? Rasselas quickly darted from Nell’s lightning-paced path as they almost clashed on the stairwell.

“Nell! What’s got into ya!” He called after the flummoxed highwaywoman.

Sofia and Eularia's eyes remained on the door after Nell swiftly departed.

“Was it something I said? Eularia belched.

“Surely not,” a sarcastic Sofia replied. She couldn’t help but smile knowingly; such was the heat pouring from Nell's body as she briefly passed by.

“They’re so sensitive, these lower-class sorts,” Eularia sighed.

“That was quite the overreaction from Miss Jackson,” Eularia added.

 “On the contrary, it's just as I had hoped.” Sofia bit her bottom lip.

Eularia eyebrows knitted together in drunken confusion.

“On the streets, Miss Jackson is very much the captain. In my sheets, I would have her know her place. Feel free to write that down, author.” Sofia winked, much to Eularia's gasp.

“Somebody find me a quill and pot of ink this instant!” The publisher bellowed.