Rosaria's jaw fell open in shock at how he replied to her. Rude? Her?! He was the one who had dared to come to her private rooms such as he had! All of her handmaids reflected the look on her face, but by the time she moved her lips to reply to him she knew he had gone. All she could do was sit in her bed, her dark hair mussed and her cotton nightgown falling loosely on her slender frame.
After a moment, her gaping mouth closed and she lifted her chin proudly. Rosaria said not a word, but merely nodded to her handmaids, and they sprang into action. Two of them took her blankets and sheets and folded them back, taking her hands and helping her from the bed. Four of the girls went to her closet and pulled a fabulously beautiful
red and gold gown from it, laying it on a table in preparation for when they would put it on her. One of the handmaids took the pitcher of water and poured it into the porcelain bowl for Rowena to wash her hands and face. Two of the women took her nightgorn by the hem at her feet, bid her raise her arms, and then slowly lifted it off of her. The remaining three stayed off to the side, holding hairbrushes and hairpins, powders and perfumes.
Within moments, Rowena was dressed and adorned as the princess she was. The red and gold gown fit her form snugly and accentuated the dark tint to her skin. Her thick black hair had been arranged into an elegant
style up off her neck. There was a
pendent around her slender neck made of rubies and pearls, hung on a gold chain. After she was washed and dressed, a light amount of dark powder was applied to her face to give her a more flawless look, a small amount of perfume was rubbed into the insides of her wrists, and just as she and her ladies were preparing to leave the room, a knock brought them all to an abrupt pause.
"Food for the Princess," a woman's voice called from the other side. Rosaria nodded to one of her ladies, bidding her to allow the woman in. But the princess took one look at the food arranged for her, and her nose wrinkled and she shook her head.
"Disgusting English food," she said as the woman was shooed from the room,
"Tasteless, plain, completely average. These British must come to Spain, and then perhaps they will have some idea of what exactly "food" is." Her ladies giggled slightly, nodding in agreement before they all regained their composure and, with a nod from Rosaria, left the room and started in an organized procession for the library.