Delia grabbed her small, elegant reticule from the table, her mind still reeling from the dramatic events of the meeting. Another part of her revenge completed.
Eric was right beside her. He offered her his arm in which she took as they both walked towards the street where their carriage was waiting.
"Delia!"
The voice, gentle but firm, stopped them.
Delia and Eric turned to see Catherine approaching them, her steps hesitant but determined. The confident, almost regal bearing she had shown in the meeting room was gone, replaced by a vulnerable and uncertain expression.
"I want to talk to you," she said, her eyes fixed on Delia, full of a hope so fragile it was heartbreaking.
Delia stared at her, her face a mask of exhaustion. She didn't speak, didn't move. She was a fortress, her walls built high against the flood of emotions that threatened to overwhelm her.
