Vanessa dipped into a low curtsy, the fabric of her skirt whispering against the marble floor. "Your Grace. Thank you for granting me an audience."
Lucas inclined his head by a fraction—no more. The stylus continued its soft rhythm against the tablet edge.
"I was told you had something to say."
"I came to apologize," she said, straightening slowly. "Formally. For my behavior at the garden event. It was… inappropriate. I spoke out of turn and in poor judgment."
Lucas set the stylus down without looking at her. "You're not wrong."
Vanessa's lips parted, just a moment's hesitation, maybe surprise but she pressed forward. "I didn't realize, at the time, how serious the circumstances were."
"Do you mean Trevor?" Lucas asked, finally lifting his gaze to hers. "Or your brother forcing you to apologize?"
The silence that followed cracked, brittle as ice.
Vanessa flinched—only slightly, but Lucas caught it.
