The doors of Hamilton House were finally closed. The loud, cheerful noise of the departing carriage faded completely into the distance. The grand foyer was quiet and peaceful once again. Rowan stood next to Delaney, his hand resting warmly against the small of her back.
However, the quiet peace of the morning did not last very long.
From the quiet shadows of the side hallway, the dignified figure of Mr. Simmons appeared. The butler walked with his usual slow, careful steps. But as he approached the Duke and Duchess, Rowan noticed sothing very different about the older man.
Mr. Simmons did not have his usual, polite smile. His face was very serious, and his posture was slightly stiff. He stopped a few feet away from them and offered a very deep respectful bow.
"Your Grace," Mr. Simmons spoke. His voice was lower and much quieter than usual.
Rowan turned his head. He dropped his hand slowly from Delaney’s waist. He gave the butler his full attention.
"Yes, Simmons?" Rowan asked calmly. "Has sothing happened?"
Mr. Simmons kept his voice very low, ensuring the passing footn could not hear him.
"Lady Margery is waiting for you in your study, Your Grace," Mr. Simmons inford him politely.
Rowan frowned deeply. A dark crease appeared between his eyebrows. He was entirely confused by this news.
This was completely unlike his aunt. Aunt Margery was a woman who loved the bright, social spaces of the house. She spent her mornings in the sunny drawing room, drinking hot tea, reading the society papers, and playing with her poodle. She never went into his study unless she was specifically invited to discuss deeply serious family matters or financial accounts.
Rowan narrowed his eyes slightly. He looked closely at the butler’s serious face.
"Did she say anything to you, Simmons?" Rowan asked, his voice taking on a sharper, more focused tone. "Did she explain why she is waiting in the study?"
Mr. Simmons shook his head slowly. His expression remained completely composed, but his eyes showed a deep, genuine concern for the older woman.
"She did not say anything directly to , Your Grace," Mr. Simmons replied respectfully. "But I noticed a very sudden change in her countenance just a few monts ago."
Rowan’s frown deepened even further. "Her countenance?"
"Yes, Your Grace," Mr. Simmons nodded his head slightly. "The change occurred imdiately after she received a sealed letter from the morning post. The footman delivered it to her in the drawing room. After she opened it, she beca entirely silent. She walked straight to your study and asked to fetch you without delay."
Rowan felt a sudden, cold weight drop into the very bottom of his stomach. An urgent letter that completely silenced the loud, energetic Aunt Margery was never a sign of good news.
"A letter?" Rowan repeated the word softly, his mind already racing through a dozen different, terrible possibilities.
"Yes, Your Grace," Mr. Simmons nodded again, confirming the serious situation.
Rowan let out a slow, tight breath. He nodded his head firmly, stepping fully into his role as the head of the Hamilton family. Whatever the problem was, he would handle it.
"Ok," Rowan spoke clearly, his deep voice leaving no room for doubt. "I am coming there right now. Thank you, Simmons."
"Very good, Your Grace," Mr. Simmons bowed once more. The butler turned around quickly and walked away, disappearing back down the quiet hallway to resu his daily duties.
Rowan turned his body slowly back to Delaney.
Delaney was standing very still. She had heard the entire conversation clearly. She looked up at him, her hazel eyes completely filled with genuine worry and deep concern. She knew exactly how much Aunt Margery ant to Rowan. The older woman had been like a mother to him after his own parents had passed away.
Delaney took a small step closer to him. She reached out her hand and gently touched his forearm, feeling the fine, dark fabric of his coat.
"I have to go, Del," Rowan said softly. He offered her a very tight, forced smile, trying his absolute best to hide the sudden tension in his broad shoulders.
Delaney looked closely at his face. She did not like the dark worry in his eyes.
"Is everything alright, Rowan?" Delaney asked softly, her sweet voice full of quiet anxiety. "Has sothing terrible happened?"
Rowan did not want to frighten her. It was her very first morning as a bride. He wanted to protect her from any sudden sadness or family burdens for as long as he possibly could. He needed to find out the truth first before he caused her any worry.
He placed his hand gently over her small fingers resting on his arm. He gave her hand a reassuring gentle squeeze.
"Yes," Rowan replied smoothly, lying softly to protect her peace. He forced his smile to grow just a little bit wider, hoping to convince her. "Everything is perfectly fine. It is likely just a small matter regarding one of her country estates. You know how she worries over the smallest details."
Delaney did not look completely convinced, but she nodded her head slowly. She trusted him.
Rowan leaned his head down. He closed his eyes for a brief second and pressed a warm, tender kiss directly to the center of her forehead. His lips lingered against her soft skin, drawing strength from her quiet, steady presence.
He pulled back slowly. He looked deeply into her beautiful eyes.
"I will see you very soon, my love," Rowan promised her quietly. "Please, go to the morning room and ask the cook to bring you so fresh tea."
"I will," Delaney nodded softly. "Take your ti."
Rowan let go of her hand. He turned around and walked away from the bright foyer.
He took long strides down the long, carpeted hallway. As he walked away from the sunlight and deeper into the quiet, shaded parts of the massive house, his polite smile completely vanished. His face turned hard and serious.
He reached the doors of his private study. He did not hesitate. He grasped the cold brass handle, turned it firmly, and pushed the door open.
He stepped inside and closed the door quietly behind him.
The thick velvet curtains were partially drawn, keeping the room in a cool, respectful shadow.
Rowan looked across the room.
Aunt Margery was sitting in one of the large, high-backed leather chairs near the empty stone fireplace.
Rowan felt a sudden, sharp ache in his chest.
Aunt Margery was usually a woman of strength, loud opinions, and bright, colorful silk dresses. She usually sat perfectly straight, with her chin held high in absolute pride.
But right now, she looked completely different.
She looked small, fragile, and defeated. Her shoulders were slumped forward in a posture of deep sorrow. Her hands were resting weakly in her lap, and her fingers were tightly clutching a single, crumpled piece of white paper.
Rowan walked slowly across the rug. He stopped just a few feet away from her chair. He looked down at her face.
Aunt Margery’s face was entirely pale. The bright, cheerful energy she had shown during the wedding yesterday was completely gone. Her eyes were red, staring blankly at the dark, unlit logs in the fireplace. She looked as though she had aged ten years in a single hour.
Rowan felt a heavy lump form in his throat. He hated seeing his aunt looking so completely broken.
"What is wrong, Aunt Margery?" Rowan asked. His deep voice was incredibly low,gentle, and full of sympathy.
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