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Manor House.
Wayne lounged in his reclining chair with binoculars in hand, keeping a watchful eye on Enrod. On the long table beside him were delicate pastries and black tea. He wasn’t in the habit of having afternoon tea, but Veryl had prepared everything meticulously, attempting to make him into an elegant gentleman who would be popular in high society.
But now… he slouched when standing, sprawled when sitting, and would choose sitting over standing and lying down over sitting when given the choice. He was more down-to-earth and carefree than anything.
“The magic formation disappeared…” Wayne stood up with his binoculars, his face brightening with joy. “Isabella succeeded! I knew it. I’ve got a good eye. I knew she wouldn’t let me down.”
“Young Master Wayne,” Veryl said with a smile. “Miss Isabella hasn’t returned yet.”
Right. No celebration until the final moment. Don’t jinx it.
Wayne nodded. He learned something else from Veryl today. Having such a reliable...
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