The heavy door groaned shut, leaving Olivia shrouded in the lingering silence of his departure.
A moment later, Kira slipped into the chamber like a shadow.
"My Lady," the maid began, her voice a soft murmur of concern, "I trust you find yourself in better spirits? Shall I prepare your ensemble for the day?"
Olivia pushed back the silk duvet, the movement sharp and decisive.
"Yes, dress me. And tell me, what transpired last night, after the darkness claimed my senses?"
Kira stole a furtive glance toward the hallway, ensuring the Duke's footsteps had long faded before leaning in close. Her eyes danced with a spark of suppressed excitement.
"You shall hardly credit it, My Lady! His Grace personally banished Miss Isabella from your chambers."
She leaned closer. "He remained by your bedside until now. Is it not the very picture of romance?"
"Romantic indeed," Olivia replied, her voice clipping the words with icy indifference.
