The pacing did not stop until a knock landed on the wood, soft but assertive.
Upon cracking the door open, Ada immediately pulled it before curtsying, "Master!" she squeaked.
Arabella copied her initial action but said nothing and instead gaped at the floor beneath her.
"Leave us," he ordered the maid.
"How is he? Is he still demanding to see me?" the young woman asked as soon as Ada had shut the door behind herself after exiting the room.
"He is doing just fine and no, he won't stop asking to see or speak with you," Silas advanced towards the table, straight to the already withering roses that lay in the vase.
Despite the million other questions swirling her mind, Arabella settled for the more pressing one, or so she believed.
"Why would he come here for me knowing full well what could happen and more importantly, why would he insist that I am his mother?" not once did she glance up from the marble tiles under her feet.
