Baron Reginald stumbled through the door of his bedchamber, his mind foggy from too much wine. The night at Lord Malachi's estate had stretched into the early morning hours, leaving him exhausted and troubled. I collapsed into the nearest chair, rubbing my temples against the throbbing pain behind my eyes.
"So, you've finally decided to return," Lady Beatrix's cold voice sliced through the silence.
I looked up to see her standing in the doorway between our sleeping chamber and the dressing room, her silk robe wrapped tightly around her slender frame, her face a perfect mask of disapproval.
"Not now, Beatrix," I muttered, struggling to remove my boots. "I'm in no mood for your lectures."
She moved closer, her perfume overwhelming in the close quarters. "Where were you this time? Another gambling den losing what little money we have left?"
