As soon as the carriage's wheels came to a halt, Sylvia pushed the door open herself, not waiting for the driver to do what etiquette demanded.
Her feet hit the ground too quickly, nearly causing her to stumble from the sudden descent, but she regained her balance and moved quickly towards the mansion doors.
"My lady! Welcome back!" The servant's greeting went unanswered.
Sylvia gathered her skirts in one hand and hurried past, deaf to formality and indifferent to decorum. Whatever restraint was expected of her as a noble lady had been swept aside by fear.
Drystan followed without question. His expression was tight, mirroring the strain etched across Sylvia's face. Though the recklessness alarmed him, he understood her agitation too well.
The message they received claimed the Marquess was stabilised—yet such words sounded like a concealment. If that was truly the case, why call them in such haste? There was more to this than what had been revealed.
