The early morning light filtered through the sheer balcony curtains, casting long, soft shadows across the room.
Julian stirred, the movement making the silk sheets rustle like dry leaves under his weight. His head felt heavy, a dull ache throbbing behind his eyes, but as he forced his lashes to flutter open, the first thing he saw was the silhouette of two people by the tea table.
The Duke and Lucius.
Lucius was sitting upright, his small hand awkwardly holding a spoon as he picked at a bowl of porridge. His right shoulder was bound stiffly under his shirt, but he was trying his best not to let the pain show.
Opposite him, the Duke sat still. He wasn't eating. Instead, his large hands were gripping a newspaper so tightly the edges were beginning to crinkle and tear.
