But only I knew that this was a hairpin my father had carved for my mother years ago.
When I emerged, I saw Simon waiting at the door.
Noticing my unease, he immediately sensed that something was wrong and wasted no time with Lord Warrick's pleasantries, ushering me toward the carriage.
On the way back, his gaze swept over me, checking for any signs of injury, before he let out a relieved sigh.
It wasn't until we reached the manor and shut the door behind us that he spoke. "Eliza, what happened? You look pale. Should we call for a doctor?"
I grabbed his hand. "No need for that. It's just that we're in a rather precarious position."
I didn't know who that man in black was, but he clearly had insight. He had mentioned my father's enemies casually, suggesting that he held knowledge and status beyond mere speculation.
His words were perhaps a test, but they also cast doubt on whether Simon was genuinely a duke's heir.
What if others began to suspect the same?
Back in our small town, many neighbors had known Simon since the day he was born. His true identity couldn't be concealed for much longer.