He freshened up and dressed quickly. Despite the extraordinary events of the previous day, and the intimate closeness of the night, Lucas carried himself with the same poised air he always did. If anything had changed, it was only the weight of confidence in his steps and the quiet power behind his gaze.
As he descended the stairs, the soft clatter of dishes and the faint aroma of roasted meat greeted him. The lower floor of the house was bathed in warm sunlight filtering through the wooden blinds, giving the modest dining area a gentle glow.
Lady Isabelle and Lady Cecilia were already seated at the table. Both women looked up as he entered. There was a brief pause, almost imperceptible, but it was there. A flicker of nervousness passed between them, not out of shame, but uncertainty. Lady Isabelle gave a small nod of greeting, her hands clasped neatly in her lap. Lady Cecilia smiled gently, though her eyes briefly dropped to her bowl as though unsure how much to meet his gaze.
