James Kendrick
I stormed back into the house, my chest tight with anger and irritation. How dare Victoria treat me like that?
As I climbed the stairs, I noticed the family butler waiting stiffly in front of my door.
“Lord Kendrick,” he greeted.
I ignored him, pushing the doors open and stepping into my room where two servants were busy cleaning.
“Is something the matter?” I asked, slipping off my coat.
With my back to him, I couldn’t see his expression.
“You have a guest,” the butler replied.
I froze. His tone was uneasy, his face creased with discomfort.
“Where is he?” I demanded.
“The tearoom.”
I yanked my tie loose and tossed it carelessly to the floor, then strode toward the tearoom.
My frown deepened the closer I got, why were there so many guards stationed outside?
The
