Eleanor kept her posture straight as Prince Adrian led her forward, his hand resting gently on the small of her back.
Duke Leopold stood at the entrance of the grand hall, his sharp gaze sweeping over her as if he were inspecting a prized horse at auction. His features were striking—high cheekbones, a strong jaw, and an air of authority that couldn't be ignored.
"Uncle, I would like you to meet Eleanor," Prince Adrian said, his voice even but firm.
Eleanor took a deep breath before curtsying. "It is an honor to meet you, Your Grace."
Duke Leopold did not immediately respond. Instead, he simply studied her, his silver-gray eyes unreadable. The silence stretched, heavy and suffocating, but Eleanor refused to fidget under his scrutiny.
Then, finally, he gave a small nod. "So, you are the woman my nephew has chosen."
It wasn't a question—it was a statement, one laced with something Eleanor couldn't quite decipher.
