The high noon sun streamed through the tall, arched windows of the Thompson estate's grand dining hall. The long mahogany table was set with the finest silver and porcelain, laden with roasted venison, steamed vegetables, and fresh fruits.
It was a rare occasion. The entire family—Beatrice, Derek, Marissa, Carlos, and Ashlyn—was gathered for lunch.
Beatrice, the Dowager Duchess, sat at the head of the table. She looked frail but happy to have her family around her. She set down her crystal goblet and turned her warm gaze toward Marissa.
"How is Ryan doing lately, my dear?" she asked, her voice filled with the longing of a great-grandmother missing her favorite child.
Marissa, seated to Derek's right, wiped her mouth delicately with a napkin. She smiled, a genuine, soft expression reserved for mentions of the boy. "He is well, Grandmother. The northern air suits him. He writes that his swordsmanship is improving every day."
