Owen stayed completely still, not daring to move even an inch as he listened carefully from his hiding place. His heart was pounding louder than the music still echoing from the ballroom, and every word that left the cloaked man's mouth felt heavier than the last.
"I heard," the man said in a calm, almost playful tone, "that Mrs. Dravenhart already knows about your son."
The duke didn't reply immediately. He stood there in silence, his shoulders heavy as if carrying a weight too large for one man. Finally, he sighed, the sound deep and tired. "What do you want?"
The cloaked figure chuckled, the sound low and greedy. "Ohh, nothing much… just a little more gold."
The duke's jaw tightened, and his expression twisted into a deep frown. "I already gave you gold last week."
"Mm," the man hummed, taking a step closer. "And I spent it. Information like this is dangerous, Your Grace. You wouldn't want it to fall into the wrong ears."
