Adele led Lord Varent to the east wing of the castle.
Servants moved in steady rhythm, with their hands occupied with ropes, buckets, and wooden poles.
The scent of soap lingered faintly in the air from freshly washed clothes.
Adele walked through it with serp to no care about the people around doing the manual labour.
She carried herself as though everything here existed beneath her notice, because it did.
Lord Varent walked beside her.
He had dismissed the idea of formal silence far too quickly for her liking.
"You're quieter than I expected," he said, glancing at her with a small, almost amused smile. "Most ladies would be eager to fill the air around me."
Adele brows lifted lightly at his audacity, but she did not look at him.
Her gaze remained forward, with her posture straight, and her steps measured. "Most ladies," she replied calmly, "are not me."
