The bathing room of Hartfield Mansion was large.
It had been built for the household's original occupants — a full aristocratic staff, multiple family members, the expectation of use — and the main tub was accordingly generous. Stone-edged, deep, fed by a copper pipe system that Eliantra's husband had installed and which was one of the few things his money had paid for that she didn't currently hate.
Two smaller tubs along the far wall. A wooden shelf of soaps, oils, scrubbing cloths. A rack of towels. A brazier for keeping the room warm, currently cold and unlit.
Rihana looked at the room.
Assessed it.
Began.
"The large tub," she said, already moving toward the copper valve. "We'll use this one."
"We will use separate—" Eliantra started.
"Wood savings," Rihana said pleasantly, turning the valve. Water began to fill in a low, rushing sound.
"That is not—"
Rihana turned.
Her hands found Eliantra's robe — the lapels, quick, efficient — and pulled.
The robe came open.
