**THE BRAZEN SERIES is part of the GOLDEN UNIVERSE**
♦YOU MUST HAVE READ BOOK ONE, A BRAZEN MAIDEN, TO READ THIS SEQUEL!♦
♦♦It is ALSO recommended that you read THE GOLDEN GIRL/DUCHESS/PRINCESS & QUEEN to better understand events in this novel, as...
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♪ Let me open up the discussion with I'm not impressed ♪ {The Pretty Reckless—Kill Me} EXPLICIT WARNING—for the song
Of all the places in all the world, Limesdale Manor was not where Johanna expected to end up. The castle basement, sure; she'd spent years there, scrubbing, cooking, sewing, storing, sleeping. Or perhaps aboard a boat upon the sea, far from the drama of Totresia, of Europe. She'd be disguised as a man, washing floorboards under the bright blue sky or under the navy blanket of stars. Hell, even a prison cell would have made more sense to her.
But this dump? This nightmare of a home she'd grown up in? This torture lair operated by a vicious vulture like Sir Thatcher? Never.
It was Dowager Clémentine's wish for her to return, not hers. "You are a servant, Johanna," the woman had said, when Johanna protested. "I still own you, and as your lady is leaving, and I refuse for you to depart the country, you will go where I tell you."
The woman's mind was made and none of Johanna's whimpers would sway her.
But why did she choose Limesdale? Had she not saved Johanna from that mess many moons ago? Extracted her from Sir Thatcher's dirty claws, torn her from the chef's cruel looks, the stable-boy's backhanded advances, the steward's odd glances? Yes, the Dowager once rescued Johanna only to make her a spy, but she'd appreciated the escape, nonetheless. And in any case, she refuted those orders and chose only to obey Marguerite once she met her. The years at the Academy provided her with a better life than any of her years at the manor.
Yet there she was, sitting on Mrs. Banks' bed, in her ground floor quarters, her small sack of belongings at her feet. Johanna had little, despite her twenty-two years of life, and it all fit into one oversized satchel. A few servant gowns, a few aprons, a hairbrush gifted by Marguerite, several pairs of sturdy shoes, stockings, a cap, a cloak—and the book. The one given by her mother, before she died. A book of fairy-tales, not unlike the one Céleste used to read all the time.
Céleste.
Thinking of the sweet girl, abandoned by her best friend, brought tears to Johanna's eyes. And she'd cried enough already for Marguerite; the kind-hearted, but ruined girl she'd come to love as a sister. She'd served her for nearly three years, and yet never knew the truth; that her mistress... was the Princess of Giroma, the country she grew up to despise.
Johanna first found out from a serving girl who'd been loitering by the secret entrance to the patio, from the King's Corridor. And it was later rumored by a butler who had brought chamomile to the royals as they convened in King Antoine's office. And finally, the following day, Dowager Clémentine confirmed it by shipping Johanna off to the place she was born, the place she had nightmares about, the place she'd sworn to never return to. Yet... she sensed that now, considering recent events, Limesdale might not disgust her as much as before. And the only thing that would keep her sane was its new owner.
