Noah sat by the fireplace silently, the slowly dying flames and the embers reflected in his dark-colored eyes. His father, a tall and lean man with salt and pepper hair that matched his gray eyes, sat opposite them as his eyes sparkled with unmarked interest.
Throughout the entire ten minutes that the Queen had gone to answer some calls, Dr. Arthur Hargreaves, Prince of Belgium, Duke of Arenberg, and consort to Queen Helena — aka Noah’s father — never said a single word to them. He just sat there smiling occasionally at either of them whenever they had the misfortune of meeting his eyes.
Obviously, he was thinking of something else other than the blinking monitors strapped around their ankles.
“So … ” he finally said after some time and smiled again, seemingly unbothered at how awkward
