Portia’s grip tightened on her glass.
Emerson lowered his eyes.
Rosalind drew out the folded note and held it up for the whole room to see.
“Early this morning, I woke to find every hair on my head shaved off.
Someone came into my private quarters while I slept, shaved my scalp, shredded my dress, and left this note on my nightstand.”
Gasps broke across the tables.
Portia’s mother, Yvonne, pressed a hand to her chest.
“How utterly dreadful,” she announced.
“Who could possibly do something so barbaric?”
Rosalind turned her gaze on her.