Though the bed was made and the room generally straightened, certain signs gave away that the occupant of the room was definitely male. A boot fallen over beside its comrade, a crumpled cravat on the bow-front bureau, a few loose notes scattered about, one having drifted to the floor, showed that Fissing was either gravely ill or no longer with his master. Sophie occupied a few moments picking up the note and setting the boot to attention. Catching sight of herself, she peered into the dark-framed mirror, lit from the window, and wondered if her appearance truly was as dire as her mother and sister believed. Granted, her cheeks were rather pale. Perhaps she could use a trifle of rouge, just temporarily. And perhaps pulling her hair back so tightly did leave her looking more like an onion than was attractive, however practical it might be. Pulling a few tendrils loose at her left temple, Sophie studied the effect, turning her head from side to side to judge the difference. When she tugged at the right side, however, one of her tortoiseshell pins slipped out, causing half her hair to tumble out of the double twist she habitually wore.
What do You think about A Duke For Christmas (2004)?
