The private parlor of the quiet inn was dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of tea and murmurs from the patrons. A single tray with a pot of tea and two cups sat on the table between Baroness Augusta and Duke Philip. The atmosphere was a careful construction of civility, masking the dangerous purpose of their meeting.
"Be honest with me, Your Grace," Augusta began, her voice a smooth, silken purr as she sat across from him. "You don't truly wish happiness for this marriage, do you?"
Philip smiled, a cool, polite expression that didn't reach his cold eyes. He took a slow sip of his tea. "Why wouldn't I?" he replied, his voice equally smooth. "It is my dear brother's wedding, after all. A cause for celebration for the entire Carson family."
Augusta's own smile was knowing. "Of course. But I have been thinking, and I figured this arrangement wouldn't be ideal, especially from your position as the head of the family."
