“A man can think what ‘e likes,” Rafael growled back. “And ye asked me.” His careful diction was slipping in the heat of his anger. “Ye’ve a duty to yer prince, and to yer people, to bring home a lady. Yer a noble, ye’ve allus been a noble. Ye should never hev brought her ‘ere, she don’t belong ‘ere, she don’t know what to do, she ain’t a lady.”
“I am tempted to dismiss you, and who would hire you when I tell them my reasons for doing so?” Isaac bit out before sneering cruelly, the expression not at home on his usually pleasant features. “Derek is like a brother to me and he likes Summer — you have no idea what you’re talking about. She’s a lady to me, Rafael, and that’s all that matters.”
Rafael snapped his mouth shut with a click. After a moment, he spoke again, upper servant’s accent back in place, with a cool distance. “My deepest apologies, Master Isaac. I spoke out of place. My remarks were ill-considered and uncalled for.” He bent and picked up Isaac’s sword, offering it hilt-first, and bowed when the knight took it. Stiffly, he left the room.