The Grand Albion inn was quiet in the middle of the afternoon. Delia walked into the main dining hall, her steps confident, her expression carefully neutral. She saw him sitting at a table in the most secluded corner of the room, a glass of untouched wine before him. Duke Philip looked up as she approached.
"I thought you didn't want to meet. I even thought you wouldn't come." He said as soon as she sat down, his voice a smooth, silken challenge. He was testing her from the very first sentence. "What made you change your mind?"
Delia placed her hands calmly in her lap. "You were the one who was so insistent on meeting, Your Grace," she replied, her own voice even and direct. "I thought it would be rude to ignore a second invitation from a Duke."
A small, tight smile touched Philip's lips. "I see." He leaned back in his chair, studying her. "I thought we might be able to understand each other, you and I. Perhaps because we find ourselves in a rather similar situation."
