Come Sunday morning, Eric stirred from slumber later than his custom. As he descended the grand staircase, faint murmurs of conversation drifted from the living room.
He didn't make a beeline for the parlor directly. Instead, he pivoted toward Kira, the trusted housekeeper, curiosity tugging at his tone. "Who has paid us a visit?"
"It's Mr. Moran," Kira replied with a warm smile, setting down Eric's morning repast. "Your breakfast, sir."
"Thank you," Eric murmured, lifting the coffee to his lips for a tentative sip before placing it back down as he rose to his feet.
What business brought Denver here so early?
"Sir, won't you eat?" Kira called after Eric, concern threading her tone.
"In a minute," Eric replied over his shoulder, already striding toward the living room.
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