"And anyway" Harriet remarked "You could tell the wear in that dress a mile off. It wouldn't have lasted a week"
Her companion nodded meekly, thinking that she wouldn't have complained had her employer the decency to buy her a new dress once in a while.
The two of them made an odd pairing, making their way down to the busy port; Harriet clad in a deep violet chiffon gown and her maid, Lucinda, dressed only in a plain blue matronly dress that reached the top of her ankles- she could only have been 14 or so.
Harriet didn't notice Lucinda rolling her eyes at the rich girl's vanity; she was too busy making eyes at passers by. One day, the maid noted, it would get her into trouble she couldn't handle. Harriet's father, Philip, was a well-known merchant in this town, and had hired Lucinda to keep his daughter busy, having his own affairs to attend to without her constantly under his feet. The result was that Harriet dragged the poor girl about town, taking delight in showing her up as her 'servant'.
It was only the money that the job brought in to feed her family and the sweet nature of the brat's father that kept her from handing in her notice. She couldn't bear to do that to Philip- he'd already had so many previous maids leave on Harriet's account. The servant girl sighed heavily, and returned the understanding glance from a passing sailor.
Harriet smiled sweetly at yet another stranger and opened her purse to check how much of her Mama's allowance she had left; when a silver piece dropped from the velvet opening and landed with a clink upon the pavement. The raven haired beauty stopped for a moment to pluck the shining metal from the cobble when her hand was captured by another.
"Oh!" She exclaimed, pausing for a moment and gazing transfixed at the large calloused fingers cupping her own small digits. Harriet made the mistake of looking from the hand covering hers, to the features of its owner. She was immediately held in the intense gaze of a beautiful, olive skinned man; whose fiery amber eyes seem to strip her to her very soul. His raging pupils held her gaze as he pulled her sharply to her feet. But before he let her loose, the dark haired man brought her hand to his lush lips and brushed them against her knuckles; and she could have sworn he had scraped his tongue along the delicate flesh, setting her senses tingling.
"Senorita" the man drawled in a strange accent, but she stood wordlessly, staring at him. It wasn't apparent whether she was appalled, nor dazed but certainly speechless. From his boyish grin, she realised he took her silence as the latter.
Harriet was instantly broken from her trance, and appeared rather annoyed that this man had the impertinence to speak to her. She snapped her purse shut with a click, looking down her daintily upturned nose at the male perfection before her.
