Evelyn found Damian waiting for her in the gardens, standing beneath the shade of an old oak tree. The sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting dappled shadows across his sharp features.


    “You summoned me, Your Grace?” she teased, tilting her head.


    Damian’s lips quirked in amusement. “You make it sound as if I sent a royal decree.”


    Evelyn merely raised a brow. Before she could respond, footsteps echoed behind her.


    “I must say, Your Grace,” Isabelle’s voice rang out, “you’re quite bold to request a private meeting with my dear Evelyn so early in the morning.”


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    Damian turned toward her, his expression unreadable. “Lady Isabelle,” he said smoothly, nodding in greeting. “It has been some time.”


    Isabelle arched a delicate brow. “Oh? So you do remember me.”


    Evelyn blinked in surprise. “You two have met before?”


    Damian glanced at her, a flicker of something unreadable passing through his gaze before he returned his attention to Isabelle. “We have.”


    Isabelle smirked, but before she could respond, another voice cut in.


    “My lady.”


    Sir Adrian Blackwood had appeared at Damian’s side, his dark eyes settling on Isabelle with an intensity that made even her pause.


    “Ah,” Isabelle murmured, her smirk faltering for the briefest of moments. “Sir Adrian.”


    Evelyn’s eyes flicked between them, noting the unusual tension.


    Damian, ever observant, let out a quiet sigh. “And here I thought this morning would be uneventful.”


    Evelyn fought a smile. “I have a feeling things are just getting started.”