Betty freshened up slowly, letting the cool water run over than necessary, as though it might rinse away the lingering unease she hadn’t been able to name since waking. She chose something soft and modest, comfortable enough to disappear into.
The dining room greeted her with the muted glow of filtered sunlight. The long table had already been set, polished silverware aligned with meticulous care. Grayson’s seat was empty.
Her gaze lingered there longer than she meant it to. A faint crease formed between her brows, but she smoothed it away and took her place. She told herself she didn’t care where he was.
A maid approached moments later, posture stiff, movements precise to the point of rigidity. She stopped a careful distance from the table and inclined her head.
“Good morning, ma’am.
