Rowan sat at the head of this perfectly set table, feeling entirely out of sorts.
He was waiting.
He had always hated waiting. Waiting implied a lack of control. Waiting implied that someone else's time was more valuable than his own.
He was a Duke; people waited for him but he never allowed that to happen.
He reached into his waistcoat pocket and withdrew his watch. The metal was cool against his thumb. He flipped the lid open with a sharp click.
The second hand ticked relentlessly.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
Ten thirty-five.
"Unbelievable," Rowan muttered to the empty room.
He snapped the watch shut and slid it back into his pocket. He picked up his fork, then put it down again. He refused to start eating without her. It wasn't politeness; it was a strategy. If he started eating, it would look like he accepted her lateness. If he waited, staring at the cold door, it would serve as a reprimand.
The door handle turned.
