Questioning The Duke (1)

Meanwhile, at the duke's estate, Tristan had just returned an hour before midnight. As soon as he past through the front door and was greeted by Butler Elliard, he didn't beat around the bush and asked directly, "Where's father? Has he retired to his room?"

Butler Elliard lifted a brow at the young master's impetuous behavior. The butler could more or less deduce what made him this flustered. "No. Today's rather hectic so, His Grace decided to burn the midnight oil."

"Good. I'm heading there for a while."

Even before he finished his sentence, Tristan had breezed through the servants like a gust of wind. With a growing irritation in his heart, the young man quickened his pace towards the duke's study room. However, despite that, he still knocked the door though he couldn't hide his frustration from the way he rapped his knuckle.

"Come in," the duke's tired voice came from behind the door.