The sharp rhythm of Matthias's boots echoed across the marble floor, quick, deliberate, like a man who'd already made up his mind long before the night began. Firelight flickered against the thin fur draped over his shoulders, its pale white standing out against the deep navy suit he wore. Everything about him screamed order, precision, and authority, no room for doubt, no cracks for anyone to guess at his standing.
Not far away, Greta waited. Her midnight-blue gown fell in clean, simple lines, elegant enough to hold the gaze of anyone who dared look twice. She stood with a quiet poise, calm yet commanding, the kind of presence that made ignoring her nearly impossible.
Una, who had been fussing over the last details of Greta's dress, finally stilled her hands. She glanced at the two of them, drew in a breath, and stepped forward to greet the Duke.
