Jerome Brunton's eyes landed on the tapestry that hung in that gilded parlour room. The high ceiling had beautiful paintings that belonged to the past century and were maintained pretty well. The ceiling to wall drapes were opened, letting in the sunlight and breeze from outside.
The Dowager asked the maid who poured the tea to retreat and Jerome looked at the maid carefully walking out without showing her back to the Dowager and closing the door gently.
"What is your enmity with Belfaguer?" Jerome asked, pushing the teacup away from him. His tone didn't have the politeness he had till then and his eyes became sharp as a razor as they trained at the Dowager. He is not in the mood to drink tea now. His granddaughter still might be in danger.
" Belfaguer?" the Dowager's eyes widened and the wrinkles on her face couldn't conceal the fright she had.
How could she forget the man who made her bury her son, grandson and their wives on the same day?
That madman!
