The morning sunlight spilled through the drawing room windows as I sat opposite my uncle Cyrus Beaumont, still processing his unexpected request to speak with me privately. After yesterday's explosive court session, the last thing I'd expected was for him to seek me out.
"Thank you for agreeing to see me, Isabella," he said, looking uncharacteristically uncomfortable in his fine tailored suit. Gone was his usual calculating demeanor, replaced by something that almost resembled vulnerability.
"I admit I'm curious what could be so urgent," I replied carefully, smoothing down my skirts. "Especially after everything that was revealed yesterday."
Alaric had reluctantly agreed to give us privacy, though I suspected he was lurking just outside the door, ready to intervene if needed. My husband's protectiveness had only intensified since the courtroom revelations about my mother.
