Chapter 62

Part 7. Duke Claude del Ihar

The attendants opened the windows to let out smoke from the wet wood burning in the fireplace. The biting winter winds entered the room. Snow was on the horizon.

Draping a thick woolen blanket over her shoulders, Lia put down her pen and carefully folded the letter, which would be delivered to Louver tomorrow by post—not that any of them seemed to reach the intended recipient.

Sighing, she opened the drawer where she kept all the returned letters. Eleven seasons had come and gone with most of them returned to her, and there had never been a reply from the ones that weren't. "Maybe tomorrow will be different," she murmured.

She got up, her pale feet peeking out under the long nightdress. Her hair, now reaching her chest, blew in the breeze. The window reflected a woman with porcelain skin, sharp features, and eyes like crystal. Lia swept back her flowing locks as she made her way to the open window.