The elegant composure of the young woman at the table was a beautiful thing, and yet Felicity was in no place to appreciate it, with her naked form on display and chilled with fear. "Yes, m'lady," she murmured, hearing the quaver in her own voice, and turned away to set down the wine jug with trembling hands.<br/><br/>Moving to the table's edge, she insinuated herself carefully close, trying not to touch anyone or anything; these people seemed so gleefully prepared to fill with wrath at any possible slight, and she hoped that this humiliation, so similar to what the Baron had done to her at breakfast, was the worst that she might suffer.<br/><br/>One hand lifted to catch her unbound hair, holding it back from the spreading puddle as she lowered her face to the table and began to lap up the spilled wine like an eager cat, hoping that at least some semblance of enthusiasm for the task my spare her further reprimand.