That evening, after the prince's carriage had long since disappeared down the winding road, D'Amore Manor felt heavier than usual. The servants moved in hushed tones, the halls quieter, as though the house itself sensed what had transpired.
Lady Celeste sat in her private study, a single candle flickering on the desk before her. The delicate scent of lavender hung in the air, but it did nothing to ease the knot in her chest.
A knock came at the door.
"Enter," she called softly.
Isadora stepped inside, already dressed in her evening gown, her hair loosely falling over one shoulder. She smiled faintly as she approached. "You asked for me?"
Celeste gestured for her to sit beside her on the small settee near the window.
"Isadora, dear," Celeste began, taking her hand in both of hers. "There's something… I need to tell you."
Isadora's brows drew together at the grave note in her tone. "What is it?"
