“Of course you would,” Ambrosia interjected, pretending not to hear a single whit about Olympe or what she might do for her young mistress. Loosening her corsets might be a better use of the maid’s time, but Ambrosia chose, most generously of her if she did say so herself, to keep her peace.

“Something extravagant would be appropriate, you are a Lestrange now, after all.” And Ambrosia, if it killed her, would not have a single member of that family look down on hers. (Adrienne had shared a family name, if nothing else, which counted enough for her purposes.) She longed to enquire about the family, hungry for details that were hidden away from the rest of society, but she would rather pluck out her own eyes than show that kind of desperation.

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Ambrosia's got 99 problems but this hot af set from MJ ain't 1 of them