The activities of my morning, which consisted of a series of mundane meetings with my household staff, did not improve my mood. The afternoon was even less promising, and I was considering whether I should cancel the remainder of my appointments when my thoughts were interrupted by a knock on my drawing room door. I frowned, certain I had no other business until after lunch. Nonetheless, I bade my visitor enter. To my surprise, Cannan opened the door and came to stand before my desk. I sprang to my feet, and he inclined his head in a respectful yet understated greeting. Unable to meet his gaze, I began to fuss with the papers that were strewn on the wood before me, the disgrace of the previous day haunting me. “Are you all right, Alera?” Cannan inquired, frank as ever, his dark eyes never leaving my reddening face. I nodded, struggling to compose myself. “We should sit,” he said, motioning toward the stately, yet decidedly feminine furniture that sat bathed in sunlight on the far side of the room.
