I stood in the elegant hallway of Dowager Duchess Annelise Thorne's residence, watching her proud back as she retreated after our conversation. Despite her advanced years, she maintained the posture of a woman half her age, though I couldn't help noticing how her hand trembled slightly on the banister as she climbed the stairs. Time was catching up with all of us, whether we wished to acknowledge it or not.
"Your Grace," I called after her impulsively. She paused but didn't turn. "Family is precious. When we reach our twilight years, it's not our pride that comforts us, but those we've loved."
Her shoulders stiffened. "Save your philosophical musings for those who need them, Alistair."
"We aren't promised tomorrow," I persisted gently. "I've watched three generations of Thornes let pride keep them from happiness. Must it continue?"
