In her customary high-backed, nicely-padded chair, conjured up from an old abandoned chamber pot, Faustine, aka Fairy Godmother, sat quietly observing Thomasine. Her lips were pressed in a tight line.
"You know," Thomasine drawled. "Lady Roche is quite ambitious for Esmeralda and Pricilla." She drummed her fingers on a serviceable wood table, in an annoying steady beat. "It's appalling how she treats her stepdaughter." Astonishment colored her tone. "She is quite attractive, non? My son certainly has excellent taste! And I am wont to admit, I am somewhat relieved."
"Oui, he does," Faustine agreed. "I caught a quick glimpse of two of them in the gardens this morning. He did not recognize her." She shot her sister a smug grin. "My little atmosphere enhancing spells are working admirably."
"My goodness," Thomasine gasped, startled. "This morning?"
"Well, with a little help," she chuckled. "Ironically, they were standing in front of that ridiculous statue of Eros discussing…" She dropped into a dramatic mimicry of Prince, "…the personification of love in all its manifestations' or some such dribble."
Thomasine's eyebrows lifted at that.
"It occurs to me," Thomasine murmured, "our efforts are indeed veering in the right direction. "Now...we must somehow maneuver the situation further where 'our mysterious princess' is included in these farcical activities. But in a way that does not give away our scheme to the ambitious Lady Roche." She frowned adding, "Not to mention the poor child who is expecting to actually marry my son."
"That does appear to be a dilemma," Faustine conceded.