"Though much better dressed. Baldassare spends half his budget on clothing like the ladies," Duncan quipped. He smiled from his chair at the papers Marlowe studied. "Well, enough of us, young Duke. That's what they call you, I hope you don't get offended," he continued. "How about being my servant like this mister here?"
The question took Marlowe by surprise. His hand that was writing words earlier froze and he stared at Duncan with wide eyes and raised eyebrows. He didn't care about the question in itself, he cared more about the fact that Baldassare didn't deny the young Lord's claims. It meant he was really his servant. The proud Baldassare who didn't bend the knee even to the elders of the Ingrum house was now a servant of an unknown Lord that wasn't even recognized a hybrid on top of it.
