"Good morning, Aunt," Delaney greeted as she stepped into the circle of lantern light. She offered a polite, respectful bow of her head.
Aunt Margery turned and smiled warmly. The older woman reached out and gently squeezed Delaney's gloved hand.
"Good morning, my dear," Aunt Margery replied, her voice filled with genuine affection. "Did you sleep well? I know it is an ungodly hour to be awake."
Delaney replied with a small, polite smile. "I did, thank you. The bed in the Blue Suite is very comfortable and the room was warm."
Rowan kept his eyes on her. He wanted to step forward, pull her into his heavy greatcoat, and warm her cold cheeks with his hands. But he restrained himself. The footmen were standing right there, holding the carriage door open. They had to maintain the proper boundaries in front of the staff.
"Are we ready?" Rowan asked, his voice a deep, steady rumble that cut through the morning mist.
"We are, Your Grace," the head footman answered with a quick bow.
