Chapter 67: Sisters, Trinkets, and Questionable Propriety
The courtyard, which had only moments ago been held in a rigid hush beneath the weight of scrutiny and judgment, now stirred with renewed life. Conversations rose in gentle waves, polite laughter threaded through the air, and the quiet clink of porcelain accompanied the movement of servants who glided effortlessly among the assembled nobles.
At the far end, the refreshment tables stood in elegant arrangement, laden with delicacies both sweet and savory—miniature tarts filled with fruit preserves, sugared confections shaped like blossoms, and neatly arranged finger sandwiches that spoke of refinement in both preparation and presentation.
It was toward these tables that Duke Evander Valenridge of Blackmere made his way.
He selected a small pastry with the same air one might employ when retrieving a misplaced glove, unconcerned if anyone observed him.
Which, of course, they did.
