She could only watch the distant scene of the man who had made her kneel for a drop of wonder. The memory burned, but as she examined it more carefully, she wondered whether maintaining hostility was wise when previously they had maintained a decent, even productive relationship.
Her mind calculated possibilities with the speed of someone who had played political games for eons.
He had the trust of the Young Miss.
Now the trust of Duke Whisker.
Duke Gwendolyn had lived long enough to see empires rise and fall on the strength of a few key relationships. She had witnessed friendships that reshaped reality and enmities that unmade Folds. Words alone could forge or ruin everything.
She clenched her fists, feeling the weight of what needed to be done.
For the sake of the Young Miss, didn't she say she would do anything? If swallowing her pride and rebuilding bridges with Osmont was required, then that's what she would do. Not because she wanted to, but because necessity demanded it.
