“I need to see him,” Damien answered. He pushed past Dembe into the foyer before he received an answer.
“This way, please,” Dembe said after closing the door. “Duke Northcott is finishing his breakfast.”
He led Damien down the hall to the dining room. Duke Northcott sat at the table, a piping hot cup of tea in front of him. He perused a newspaper.
As Dembe announced Damien’s presence, Marcus did a double take. He raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Damien! What an interesting surprise! What brings you by?”
He returned to studying his newspaper as Dembe excused himself from the room.
Damien remained silent for a moment, unsure where to begin. The Duke’s presence suddenly overwhelmed him. Though he understood what he needed to do. He cleared his throat and stepped forward.
“What’s the matter, Damien? Cat got your tongue?”
“It’s Celine,” he squeaked out.
“What about Celine?” Marcus inquired, his eyes never leaving his paper.
Damien’s forehead wrinkled as he choked out the words. “She’s dying.”
