Lord Azriel's words were neither loud nor sharp. Yet they prompted quiet snickers along the table with guests relishing the joke at Ruelle's expense.
Hearing the lord address her as a gardener, Ruelle's fingers froze around her fork. Heat crept up her neck as she felt the eyes along the table, which were polite, curious and cruel. Of all the people sitting here, the Slater family had reason to despise her kind as the lord's wife had been killed by human hands. Still, she hadn't expected it.
"It seems you are collecting job offers tonight, Ruelle. First a cobbler, now a gardener," Dane drawled with a grin. He then turned to his father and asked, "Though I'm curious, Father. When did you witness Ruelle's talent of gardening?"
"She looks far too lovely to muddy her hands," Lady Maxine stated with a chuckle, who sat beside Ruelle.
Lord Azriel, who took a sip of the blood wine responded, "I could have sworn I heard a different name earlier this evening."
