Claire woke up feeling oddly calm when morning arrived.
Perhaps it was the benefit of simply surrendering to the dreams. Perhaps it had been digging into that box and remembering the outcomes of her former fury. Perhaps, even, she had finally reached the limit on how long a woman’s body could sustain anxious horror.
For whatever the reason, she woke up in a shroud of dawn light and serenity. The thing about serenity, Claire realized, was that it often shared a seat with clarity. Beautiful, sharp, dangerous clarity.
Her clarity said one thing:You have all the power here.
Goodness, it was true, wasn’t it? Claire was still the head of this estate. Claire was still the one who held all the cards. Claire was the one waking up in the master suite.
NotFreddy.
Yes, he had the lips and the hands and the face and the … no.
That wasn’t the road to go down just now. She had to hold on to clarity, at least for long enough to decide her next move.
Even beyond scheming, she intended to enjoy the release from her panic. She practically danced down to breakfast, a smile on her face and a lightness in her heart that immediately alarmed those closest to her.
“Oh, no,” said Millie, frowning. “What’s happened?”
“Oh, nothing just yet,” Claire replied with a smile that she hoped was perfectly dazzling. “I’ve simply run the course of my panic over the state of things.”
“The state of things,” Ember repeated with a laugh. “Is that what we’re calling him now?”
“We’re not calling him anything,” Claire told them sweetly. “The world does not revolve around Freddy.”
“Hm,” said Dot, who was very focused on her breakfast.
Claire watched her, her gaze narrowing a little when the other woman did not look up or otherwise comment.
“Itdoesoccur to me—” Claire began, noting a faint strain of shrillness in her voice.
“There it is,” muttered Ember.
“Shush,” Claire said with a sniff. “It does occur to me that my spouse might be remiss in some of his information, and that ignorance could be coloring his behavior. When I have the time and the inclination, I may educate him, but it is not currently my priority.”
Millie was still frowning. “Educate him?”
“How are the crepes today?” Claire said, rather than answering. “We’ve a new body in the kitchen from France, and I’m finding all the bready bits at our meals much improved.”
“You do enjoy a bit of starch, don’t you, love?” Ember replied with a sharp little grin. “The crepes are exemplary.”
“Try with the plum preserves,” Claire suggested, taking some for herself. “They are grown here on the grounds.”
Millie sighed again and tutted, “Oh, dear.”
She was ignored.
“Last night, I was digging around in some old things and found a fairy tale I wrote when Oliver was still toddling,” Claire continued, cutting her crepe into neat triangular sections. “I wrote quite a lot of them. Perhaps I ought to try to publish them the way you have, Millie? Is it very difficult?”
“For fiction? I haven’t the faintest idea,” Millie replied, her dark lashes bouncing against each other. “I write pamphlets.”
“And case briefs,” Ember added, rubbing Millie’s shoulder. “Salacious, wonderful case briefs.”
“What sorts of fairy tales?” Dot asked, finally breaking conference with her breakfast. “Like the Stone King?”
“Yes, actually. Kings and queens, moral lessons, deeply English,” Claire replied with a little spark of thrill lighting in her chest. “I’d never press if it doesn’t interest you, but I’d love for someone other than me to read them.”
“I’ll read them,” Millie said immediately, and then furrowed her brow when Claire made a face. “What?”
