The dining hall had emptied out slowly, like a tide receding after a storm. The family drifted in clusters—some toward the parlors, others to their guest suites, their goodbyes layered with polite tension and paper-thin civility.
The dust of Brianna's earlier suggestion still hung faintly in the air, but the fire had burned out. Diplomacy, tradition, and subtle rebukes had done their work.
Jeffrey glanced at Joanne as she stood beside him, exchanging soft words with Christina near the ornate double doors. Her smile was graceful, her posture elegant, but he could tell—she was tired. And he knew the kind of tired this was. Not just fatigue. It was that deep, bone-weary kind of exhaustion that came from fighting to maintain poise all evening.
When Christina finally gave her a parting kiss on the cheek and left with Philip, Jeffrey stepped closer and gently took Joanne's hand.
"You still up for it?" he asked under his breath.
