“Hmm…”
Roxy groggily climbed out of bed, yawning as she rubbed her sleepy eyes with her hands.
Strange, why was Mrs. Zhang merciful enough not to wake her up for breakfast today?
Why did her shoulder feel so heavy?
Did she sleep awkwardly and get a stiff neck?
Roxy looked down sluggishly.
First class in the early morning was geography review, focusing on the Northern and Southern Hemispheres.
Roxy, “…….”
Still half asleep, she forgot that Uncle Chen had already left her house.
She tidied her somewhat messy sleepwear caused by restless sleeping, then glanced around the room.
Though she had lost her phone—and with it access to Bilibili and Douyin—her mind automatically played a little tune reminding her to face reality.
Ah well, worrying was useless.
Health was the foundation of revolution; she had to fill her stomach first—eat, eat.
They say the second time is easier than the first.
This time when putting on her dress, Roxy was less shy.
After all, she still had to maintain the persona of a Viscount’s eldest daughter in the future.
Worrying back and forth was exhausting.
The dress must have been delivered by Wendy while she was sleeping.
Its style was not as conservative or formal as the previous leg-of-lamb-sleeve dress.
She wore a deep brown plaid jacket over a coral knit sweater, matched with a short skirt of the same color tone, white mid-calf socks, and black leather ankle boots.
Hmm, chilly and insecure.
Under the skirt, she wore thin black leggings similar to tights.
The so-called insecurity wasn’t about flashing skin but rather the absence of a long skirt meant she couldn’t hide a handgun on her body as before.
Couldn’t this skirt be a little longer?
Roxy tugged irritably at her short skirt, then strode to the bedroom door and reached out to push it open.
“Young lady.”
Two bodyguards stood by her bedroom door, one on each side.
Wendy, her personal maid, immediately turned and bowed to her.
The other, Ms. Ivette, who was responsible for ‘protecting’ her, was colder, merely nodding in greeting.
Coming from an ordinary family in her previous life, Roxy was not used to such an entourage.
Fidgeting with her fingers nervously, she tried to maintain her noble lady persona and asked in a calm tone:
“Father, have Mother and you eaten breakfast?”
“It’s already afternoon, young lady.”
“Sir and Young Master left after having their meals in the morning due to official business.”
“Madam said to let you rest well, so she didn’t call you to eat together.”
Roxy, “……”
She had indeed slept quite long.
“Would you like to eat first, or go to the dressing room to pick some jewelry?” Wendy asked respectfully.
“Miss Moulton.”
Suddenly, Ivette spoke.
“People from the church arrived at noon, and the ‘related preparations’ have been completed.”
“Please be ready by four o’clock this afternoon. We need to go back together.”
Interrupting others was considered quite rude in the current social atmosphere.
Ms. Ivette seemed to be one of those who ‘did not know how to read the mood,’ valuing the completion of ‘business’ over others’ opinions.
Roxy, who was often tormented by a sir on one side and a lady on the other with constant prayers and rituals, quite liked this straightforward, businesslike attitude.
“I understand, Miss Lamb.”
Roxy nodded, then asked, “Wendy, what time is it now?”
Wendy took out her pocket watch and glanced at it. “It’s 13:47, young lady.”
“Prepare the carriage for me. After eating, Miss Lamb and I have some business to attend to.”
Breakfast—no, lunch—was simple since Roxy was the only one eating.
The main dish was a pie baked with lamb, carrots, peas, corn, onions, special sauce, and creamy mashed potatoes.
The accompanying soup was a rich stew of fresh fish, milk, onions, and celery.
There was also a dessert, a fruit pudding.
How to put it—overall, it tasted pretty good, just a bit hard to get used to.
But no chopsticks—definitely a minus.
Clear soup Lady Roxy gave her honest review.
No. 11 Rose Street, Glen Ruins Preservation Association, first floor.
“Hello, this is… Miss Ivette, you’re back!”
Mary Wheeler’s brown eyes brightened as she popped out from behind the reception desk.
This lady was quite lively.
Roxy had thought all female members of this official organization followed Miss Lamb’s cold, unapproachable elite route.
“Who is this…”
Mary only handled reception duties and didn’t participate in any capture operations, so despite being busy these past days with letters and endless tea deliveries, she still only had a partial understanding of the issue at hand.
“This is Miss Roxy Moulton.”
Roxy gave a slight nod, her lips curling into a faint smile.
“Hello.”
‘Miss Moulton?!’
Mary gasped softly, covering her mouth before putting her hands down excitedly:
“Oh, hello, hello! My name is Mary Wheeler, but you can just call me Mary.”
Just like a fangirl picking someone up at the airport—she recognized me?
Confused, Roxy quickly found out why the next moment.
“Miss Moulton, the ice cream you endorse is really delicious.”
“That…”
“I heard that the Saint Margaret brand was created by their boss as a way to express his admiration for you.”
“Is that true?”
Roxy, “……”
Then why not call it Saint Roxy or Saint Moulton?