”“Sorry to hear that,” I said to her, still holding her small hand. She was dressed for riding; tight fitting breeches and high boots, a frilly ...hirt beneath a short jacket and not a sign of stays. Her pale hair was tied back like mine but her queue hung well down her back like a waterfall. Five-three perhaps and, I guessed, eight stone, she was obviously healthy and happy with quite womanly hips and a proud prow for one so young. She looked all of sixteen, but I knew she must be older or she. Beatrice pulled her lips away long enough to ask me if I wanted to come up to her room. We had to sneak me past the night clerk, since the hotel standards were so high (they later caught me another time and made me pay a supplement as a visitor and sign in). We made our way up to the fifth floor in this building built several centuries ago. Her room was wider on one side than the other and only had a sink, with the bathroom down the hall.As soon as we were in the room Beatrice got on her knees. More

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