The Baron let out a long sigh and straightened his back. His gaze swept over Lucas once more—sharper than before.
"Whatever you're trying to pull," he said firmly, his voice carrying far enough for the nearby townsfolk to hear, "if this turns into a mess, I'll step in myself."
Lucas didn't reply. He simply stood there, expression unreadable.
The Baron gave a quiet snort and turned away. Without waiting for an answer, he climbed back into the wagon. The door was shut from the inside, the dull thud of wood cutting cleanly through the silence of the square.
The wagon rolled forward at a slow pace.
Behind the thin curtain, the Baroness was already seated comfortably. She glanced toward the window and let out a small laugh, barely louder than a breath.
"You're really bending over backward for him," she said lightly.
The Baron took the seat across from her, pulling off his gloves. "I'm just doing what I can."
