Mitchell stood back, knowing his place and hesitant to take a seat. But Rosaline, with her innocent charm, tugged at his sleeve. "Mitch, Mitch! Why are you still standing?"
Mitchell's eyes flickered to Madam Clark, uncertainty shadowing his gaze.
The old woman, with a gentle nod, gestured towards the seat beside Rosaline.
"Sit next to her," she instructed, her voice kind yet firm.
"Thank you, Madam," Mitchell murmured, bowing his head respectfully before finally taking his seat.
Mervyn sat across from them, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he remarked, "There's still time to learn. Maybe you should remind Ryley to teach her better next time."
Mitchell nodded slowly, his eyes shifting away to hide the flicker of annoyance that threatened to surface. He refused to let it show.
Mervyn's words were a thinly veiled jab at Rosaline for inviting a servant like Mitchell to join their table, his disdain unmistakable.
