Chapter 169

Derek approached Benjamin with measured steps, offering a slight nod. “Mr. Sinclair, I should have paid my respects immediately upon returning to Lyhaton. Various matters detained me—I trust you’ll understand.”

Benjamin managed a distant smile, his response carefully measured. “Mr. Hopkins, such formalities aren’t necessary between us.” His gaze dropped, shielding the emotion in his eyes as his fingers absently traced the jewel adorning his cane.

The butler materialized at the opportune moment, gracefully handing Derek a cup of coffee.

Wesley seized the momentary silence to inquire, “I wonder, Mr. Hopkins, have you encountered Caleb recently?”

Derek lifted his gaze deliberately. “Has Caleb neglected to inform you of his business travels?”

Wesley faltered, stealing a reflexive glance at Benjamin. “He must have been pressed for time.”

A subtle furrow creased Benjamin’s brow. The timing seemed far too convenient. His instincts suggested Derek’s deliberate orchestration. He studied the younger man intently, his weathered eyes betraying deep contemplation.

From his position, Derek commanded attention even in repose; his crossed legs and perfect posture radiated natural authority. Benjamin observed this leadership quality with darkening thoughts—here sat someone who would never submit to another’s control.

“Given your company, we should take our leave,” Benjamin announced, rising slowly.

“Why such haste?” Wesley protested. “The dinner hasn’t even begun.”

Derek set his cup down with deliberate grace. His cool voice cut through the air. “Am I responsible for dampening your spirits, Mr. Sinclair?”

An unsettling silence descended. Panic flickered across Wesley’s features. “Mr. Hopkins, you misunderstand—your presence honors us greatly!”

This reaction was unexpected. The onlookers might not have known Wesley intimately, but they knew enough. In Lyhaton, few commanded Wesley’s respect. Yet, his demeanor toward Derek was more than courteous; it was deferential.

Vivienne narrowed her eyes, her gaze shifting toward Wesley as if piecing together a puzzle. Benjamin, however, remained unfazed, his voice steady. “I’m not sure what you mean, Mr. Hopkins. I only worry that our presence is disrupting your evening.”

Derek’s fingers toyed with the rim of his cup, his movements languid yet calculated. “The Sinclair family and I share a bit of history, after all. Mr. Sinclair, your words seem rather detached.”

Benjamin’s brows knitted slightly; a flicker of something unreadable crossed his gaze. Vivienne discreetly observed her grandfather. Derek had ties to the Sinclair family? Why had her grandfather never mentioned it? More importantly, Benjamin had been noticeably tense since Derek's arrival.

Just then, the butler leaned in and murmured to Wesley, “Sir, the banquet is ready.” Wesley nodded before rising. “Everyone, please, let’s continue this over dinner.”

As the guests took their seats, a curious detail emerged. Whether by coincidence or design, one seat remained conspicuously empty—right beside Derek. Vivienne’s gaze instinctively lifted toward him.

With an air of quiet inevitability, Derek stood, pulling out the chair beside him. His deep, unwavering eyes met hers as he said, “Miss Hayes, please.”