Ignatius Leclair woke up the next day during the daylight hours. When he regained consciousness, the ward was eerily quiet, with only Richard Shaw sitting in a wheelchair by the window, bathed in the rare warmth of a winter sun, engrossed in the book on his lap.
The man's handsome yet pale face darkened slightly, his strong brows furrowing. Why did waking up feel so different from what he had imagined?
"The old lady and Delphine stayed by your side all day and night; I told them to go back and rest. As for the others from the Howard Family, they were probably scared by you—hovering outside but too timid to come in." Richard Shaw, perfectly composed, glanced at the thick volume in his hands and, noticing Ignatius was awake, commented casually.
Ignatius tried to sit up, but the knife wound was deep, and any movement tugged at the injury. The man grumbled in a low, displeased voice, "Why are you so idle?"
