Ellanor accepted the wine and quickly drank it down, never being one to waste alcohol. This stuff was just as weak as the wine at the ball, so she felt it was safe to assume that Marken didn’t drink his wine to be a lush. The sly thought crossed her mind that maybe he couldn’t hold his liquor like her, someone who generally preferred whiskey or the imported absinthe her trainer used to give Ellanor in order to teach her how to operate even when she was drunk or drugged.
“Does that woman come in whenever she pleases?” Ellanor asked quietly, “I’m not very fond of nosy servants myself. When I cleaned- I mean, when I had a cleaning maid at the Winters Estate, she always minded her own business.”
Ellanor put down her glass, feeling like she should probably not drink anymore wine while she felt so unstable. She should be fine, she reminded herself, there was no way Marken hadn’t foreseen something like this happening, and if his plan was going to work, she needed to pass that background check.
But she was still worried, immensely so. So worried, she’d almost let her embarrassing years as her step-sisters’ maid slip out. Marken didn’t need to know something as humiliating as that. He’d probably just laugh at her trauma anyway. A prince like him probably didn’t even know what scrubbing floors and having blisters on his hands was like.