"Percival Sterling Lukeson Weston!" Hope startled, dropping immediately to one knee — not the simplest feat in a corset, but she managed — and pulling the boy from beneath the maid's skirt as the other woman stepped back abruptly, hands clamped tight to his shoulders, holding him so he had to look her in the eyes. "Young gentlemen do not look up a lady's skirt!"

Slowly, she took a deep breath, and explained. "I know you have been living in a less than ideal place since you were brought back from stone, Percy. I know, and I am immensely sorry that I did not find you sooner. My little boy." She smiled, lifting one hand to comb her fingers through his hair. "I love you, my little boy. I need you to know that, and understand that there are rules that accompany our status. We have to present the image of being proper, and that means shoes and shirts for you, and layers of clothing for me." She looked up at her maid. "And I need you to behave properly. That means no looking up any skirts, all right, Percy?"

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