She had seen the "Duchess" version of Miss Kingsley—commanding, elegant, beautiful. This version looked like a shadow. She looked like she was trying to disappear into the wallpaper.
But Ines did well to hide her shock. She was a Duchess herself, after all. She merely raised her teacup to her lips to hide her expression.
Delaney walked into the room. She held her notebook in both hands, clutching it to her chest like a shield. She didn't look at Ines. She looked straight at Rowan.
"Your Grace," Delaney said.
Her voice was different too. It was clipped. Efficient. Professional.
Rowan turned from the window.
He looked at her. His eyes swept over the grey wool.
For a second, Ines thought she saw a flash of pain in her brother's eyes. A look of regret. But it vanished instantly, replaced by the mask of the employer.
"Miss Kingsley," Rowan said.
Delaney walked towards Rowan with her note. She stopped exactly three feet away. The perfect distance for a subordinate.
