The afternoon sun was beginning to dip, casting long, golden shadows across the polished floors of the Hamilton estate. The house was quiet again. The storm of emotion, the confessions of love, and the heated kisses in the library had settled into a warm, humming silence.
Carcel was gone.
He had left only ten minutes ago, riding back to his own manor to prepare for the wedding. He had kissed Ines's hand at the door, his eyes promising a thousand tomorrows.
Ines stood in the foyer, watching the heavy oak door where he had exited. She touched her lips. They still felt warm. She felt light, as if she were floating a few inches off the ground. She was going to be a Duchess. She was going to be his wife.
"My Lady?"
It was Edith. Her voice was low and cautious.
Ines turned, a dreamy smile still playing on her lips. "Yes, Edith?"
"His Grace," Edith said, gesturing toward the drawing room. "Your brother wishes to see you. Now."
