“Nothing at all. Just admiring how well Rosalie dances.”
But Hugo’s amber eyes were too perceptive, noticing the tightness around her mouth, the careful way she held herself.
He’ll keep pushing until I tell him something. Better to give him a partial truth.
“I am feeling a bit unsettled,” she said finally. “Nothing serious.”
“Would you like to sit down? I can fetch you some refreshment.”
“That might be wise.”
He guided her to a chair along the wall, his touch gentle and solicitous. When he returned with a glass of lemonade, his brow was creased with concern.
“Perhaps we should go home early? If you’re unwell?—”
“Absolutely not.” The words came out sharper than she’d intended. “Rosalie needs us here tonight.”
“Rosalie will understand if you’re not feeling well.”
“I’m perfectly fine, Hugo. Just tired.”
He studied her face for a long moment, clearly unconvinced. “You’d tell me if something was truly wrong?”
Would I? Can I explain that I spent weeks dreaming of your son growing in my womb? That I imagined tiny dark-haired babies with your amber eyes?
“Of course, I would.”
Another lie to add to tonight’s collection.
“Good.” But his expression remained troubled as he settled beside her. “Because you look… fragile tonight. Unlike yourself.”
Fragile. Yes, that’s exactly what I am—a fragile woman pretending to be strong.
They sat in companionable silence, watching the dancers swirl past in a kaleidoscope of silk and jewels. Rosalie laughed at something her partner said, her face glowing with happiness.
“She really is doing beautifully,” Sybil said softly.
“Thanks to you.” Hugo’s voice was warm with gratitude. “I could never have guided her through society like this. She needed a woman’s touch.”
That comment brightened Sybil’s mood a bit. Sybil loved being a mother to Rosalie.
“She needed confidence,” Sybil said firmly but with a sweet smile now on her face. “And you gave her that long before I came along.”
“Did I? Because there were times I wondered if I was failing her completely.”
“You’re a wonderful father, Hugo. Don’t doubt that.”
He turned to look at her fully, something unreadable in his amber eyes. “You are a natural with children, almost as if you were made for it.”
The words hit her like a physical blow, stealing the breath from her lungs. For a moment, she could only stare at him, wondering if he somehow knew about her monthly disappointment.
As if I were made for it.
“Sybil? Did I say something wrong?”
“Not at all,” she managed. “I just… We should focus on Rosalie tonight.”
Hugo looked like he wanted to say more, but young Lord Pemberton was approaching with Rosalie on his arm, both of them flushed and laughing.
