At the cloakroom, they changed clothes, put on makeup, and styled their hair.
Sophie was stuck in a chair, unable to move, as the maids bustled around her.
Downstairs, Thomas Shannon held Harry, looking at Amelia Shaw standing just a few steps away from him.
She was the same as two years ago, seemingly unchanged, with soft, shiny long hair cascading down her shoulders and across her chest.
Her delicate face had an air of literary refinement, and she stood gracefully, forming a sight of her own.
Amelia might not be the most beautiful, but her temperament was the most unique.
Her aura was like a gentle orchid in a secluded valley or a cool lotus in a summer breeze. It carried a refreshing fragrance that lingered around the tip of her nose, impossible to disperse.
"Thomas, how have you been after not seeing you for two years?" Amelia asked in a gentle, soft-spoken voice, tilting her head slightly.
