The waltz ended — not with the grandeur of its beginning, but with a sigh that left the air uncertain.
Applause scattered, polite and hollow, before dissolving into the hum of conversation.
Serena stood still.
Christopher's hand still rested lightly at the small of her back, a mark of possession disguised as etiquette.
She'd almost managed to convince herself that this night would pass without a collision — that Charlton would remain where he had been for weeks now, haunting the edges of every room, near enough to unsettle but never to strike.
But she was wrong.
He was there.
Standing beneath the chandelier's pale light, Charlton Daniel, Grand Duke of Suffox, cut a shape that silenced the noise around him without a word.
His presence was not new — he'd been back in Windsor since the beginning of the Season — but the sight of him tonight, poised and motionless, felt different. There was intent behind his stillness now.
He was not watching. He was waiting.
