"Oh what do you know of women, Jon?" She waved her hands at him, shooing him away from the tarts and herself. Despite her cold outer demeanor, Tilda did feel warmly towards Jon. He was kind to her, like an older brother. Although he did delight to tease her about her staunch virtues. Most of the servants shirk the King's harsh rules, seeing themselves as below them-at least in the dark shadows of night. "Anyway, who would have my interest? Certainly not a ruffian like you."<br/><br/>Jon shook his head. He had always been a cad and far too forward with women. There were even rumors that he often visited the women from the dredges of town, the ones who earned their wages through dalliances. Tilda shuddered at the thought of it as he presses a scratchy kiss to her cheek. "Oh, you might change your mind about me yet. That or be made one of the religious women who cover their hair and spend their days behind the brick walls of the abbey." With a daring wink, he forwardly pinched her backside.<br/><br/>The rate at which her face turned red, and she quickly turned away-making a sudden show of gathering the things for the tea that Lady had asked for. Words escaped her altogether as her backside ached slightly from Jon's pinch. Why was everyone suddenly so intent on touching her? Nervously, well aware that Jon lingered and watched her as she worked, her hands shook so badly when she transferred the tea from the iron kettle to a delicate China pot with a set of saucers and little plates for the tarts-that she spilled nearly half the tea on the stone counter.<br/><br/>With a throaty laugh, Jon patted her shoulder genially and left the kitchen, stealing another tart before he did. When she was sure she was alone, she breathed a sigh of relief so powerful it caused her shoulders to slump. Now she had not only Auguste to think about, but Jon's words as well. For, much as she hated to think it, he might be right. If she did not marry in the next couple of years she would be shipped off to the abbey where she would be cloistered from the outside world for the rest of her days. Such was the way of things. Women were for nothing more than cooking food and bearing babies. If they weren't doing that, better to shutter them away instead of make a nuisance of them.<br/><br/>Her dreams were too big to allow that to happen. But neither could she marry and settle down-how would she ever leave if she did that? With the weight of reality bearing on her shoulders, she scampered from the kitchens with the tray balanced precariously on her hands, until she came to the large parlor where Lady usually took her guests. As soon as she laid eyes on Auguste, her trembling began again. Inwardly, she chided herself. He did not affect her, he could not. It was simply asinine to even toy with such a thing. And yet, as she set a cup and saucer in front of him, she managed to spill the teapot on to the table and all over him.