"So you see our predicament," Roderick Blackthorne's voice cut through the tense atmosphere of the study. "My son's engagement to your niece was all but assured until this... commoner appeared."
I watched Corbin Ashworth's face carefully. Unlike his father Michael, whose expressions often revealed glimpses of his thoughts, Corbin maintained a mask of cold indifference.
"Indeed," Corbin replied, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. "The situation is... unfortunate."
Dashiell paced behind his father's chair, unable to contain his agitation. "Unfortunate? It's an outrage! That nobody has the audacity to claim Isabelle publicly!"
I caught the flicker of annoyance in Corbin's eyes at my son's outburst. Always the politician, that Corbin. Always calculating.
"My niece has always been headstrong," Corbin said smoothly. "A trait she inherited from my father."
