Three Weeks Later - Margot's Private Residence
Margot Redwyn had invited him to dinner at her home. Not the estate—the personal residence she'd rented in the city.
Draven arrived promptly. She answered the door herself, which was unusual. Most nobles had servants handle such tasks.
"Your Grace," she greeted. "Welcome."
She wore a deep emerald gown. Not mourning colors anymore. The dress was elegant and showed off her figure in a way that was clearly intentional.
"Margot," he said, using her first name as he'd been permitted. "This is unexpected."
"I wanted privacy for our conversation," she said, leading him inside. "Away from court, away from observation. I thought we should talk. Honestly."
Dinner was prepared—she'd cooked it herself, another unusual choice for nobility. But good. Very good.
Over wine, she got to the point.
