Present time: Wellspring Estate.
Rosamund
Nevan's gaze swept the room, then landed on my right hand.
"Do I want to know why you have my seal?" He asked quietly, his eyes fixed on the brass stamp I was still holding.
My gaze dropped to the seal, then back to his face. I flashed him what I hoped was a confident smile. "I had to use it. A letter from the King arrived while you were away, requiring an immediate response with the family seal. Lord Whitmore said—"
"So Julian put you up to this?" he asked, his eyes flashing with annoyance.
"Julian?" My brows wrinkled in confusion. "I don't know who that is."
"It's Lord Whitmore, Your Grace," Clyde pitched in from where he was standing behind Nevan. "His name is Julian Whitmore, the first son and heir to Viscount Whitmore."
