"No," the duchess said evenly. "You didn't do anything. That's precisely the problem."
The fire cracked softly behind her words, as if even the room understood it was a closing argument. Nothing cruel in her tone. No spike of anger, no satisfaction. Just a fact, delivered in that smooth, inexorable cadence Serathine used when decisions had already been made.
Ophelia stared at the shadows playing along the edge of the saucer beside the untouched tea. Her palms were damp now. She didn't move them.
"You had one chance to make it right," Serathine said, her tone . "And you failed it. I would recommend you be wiser from now on."
Ophelia said nothing; there was no way Serathine could know.
