It started with a sound Windstone had never heard from the master's suite before, an abrupt, muffled thud, followed by the distinct noise of running water and a noise that could only be described as displeased retching.
For a man who had once endured diplomatic banquets, military inspections, and Trevor's teenage years without so much as blinking, it took quite a lot to rattle him. Still, he set his newspaper aside with a long-suffering sigh, muttering, "And here I was, hoping for a quiet morning."
He knocked once, out of habit more than necessity. "My lord?"
From inside came a strained but very firm, "Don't come in. It's fine."
Windstone raised an eyebrow, though his tone stayed unhurried. "Ah. Fine. That very specific brand of fine usually means the opposite."
Another groan answered him.
The door opened suddenly.
