Back at the Ellington manor, Augusta was consumed by a frustrated, powerless rage. The triumphant applause that had been meant for her was still ringing in her ears as it echoed the sound of her own defeat. She needed to crash out.
And what better way to vent her frustration than on someone completely unresponsive?
She stormed out of her room, her torn dress and disheveled hair a testament to her shattered composure. She ignored the frightened servants who scattered from her path. She had one destination in mind: her husband's room. It was the one place in the house where she still held absolute power, a room where she was the unchallenged queen.
