Lord Draco had been abed with a winsome wench in a fine French brothel when there came a pounding upon his very room door. He had scowled at the interruption, but answered the door anyway. The surprise had come first as he noticed the messenger to be one of his own from back home. Home… He snatched the note from the panting man and quickly read what had been written in haste and his jaw tightened. He stormed throughout the room to collect his clothes and looked at the forgotten woman on the bed. “I am sorry, but I have been called away in haste, forgive me,” he said tightly with a small bow and went to the door. “Anytime, my dear,” she purred as he slammed the door shut. He didn’t want to go back, he didn’t want to face what had happened all those years ago with his father, but he had a child left in his care he had failed to protect. He could wait no longer.
