Michael felt the gazes of hundreds of eyes on him, weighing him down. As he glanced around, he could see nobles whispering amongst each other, clearly speaking about them.
He stole a glance at Melody who was wearing a cold and indifferent mask as she gripped his arm. It was as if she was unaffected by the looks and words being exchanged.
"Well if it isn't the young miss Melody Winterborne," A figure walked out from the sidelines as they approached. It was a man with a well-trimmed black beard and a large stomach that protruded outward.
Despite this, his outfit was perfectly tailored, his sausage-like fingers gripped around the head of a silver cane. He smiled, yet it seemed fake since did not reach his eyes.
"Lord Marbury," Melody replied, nodding in greeting.
"Your father did not make the trip with you today?" the large man queried, his expression impassive.
"No sir, he's quite a busy man as you know."
