The clock ticked steadily, the sound almost deafening in the tense silence.
Lucia sat on the velvet sofa, her hands gently wrapped around a cup of tea. Across from her, Edgar Hawthorne sat with an air of familiarity, though his eyes held a glint of curiosity — and perhaps something more.
Lord Edgar Hawthorne
(smiling faintly) You look just like your mother, Lady Lucia. The resemblance is striking.
Lady Lucia Sinclair / FL
(offering a polite nod) I remember bits of her. Her laughter, her kindness.
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