"I... I don't know. She said she was going to see someone, but she never returned," Isabella stammered, her voice failing her.
"Someone? Who?" Matthias's voice was like a whip.
Before she could answer, the gravel crunched under the wheels of another carriage. A man stepped out—Mr. Carten, Cedric Alistair's personal aide. He approached Matthias with a chillingly polite bow.
"Greetings, Duke Luceron. I trust you are in good health?"
"Mr. Carten," Matthias growled, his hand twitching near the hilt of his sword. "I am occupied. Return later."
Carten noticed the simmering fury in the Duke's eyes and adjusted his spectacles with a smirk. "Is this preoccupation perhaps due to the Her Grace, the Duchess?"
Matthias turned on him instantly, his suspicion flaring. "What exactly do you mean by that?"
"Are you searching for her whereabouts?"
