Nathaniel had kissed her hand.
He had never done that before.
Not once in three years of friendly kindness and steady charm—
not even after he’d expressed his wish to court her.
And it had been… nice.
A simple courtesy. A small warmth.
Something she might have let herself linger on—might have allowed herself to enjoy—if her mind weren’t splintering in a thousand directions at once.
The sun inched lower along the horizon. Mary, Emily, and Lily were still chasing waves, hunting for shells, squealing when the tide nipped their ankles.
Violet swallowed hard. It was nearly time to return.
She should call the girls.
She should brush the sand from their shoes.
She should walk back to Hamilton House with her head high and her heart locked tight behind her ribs.
She lingered instead—unmoving, steeling herself.
The longer she waited, the thinner her courage felt.
But she could not delay forever.
Mary and Emily had to be returned. Nathaniel was expecting them.
And William…
She was certain William would still be there.
Maybe she could drop Lily at her parents’ cottage.
That would be best—anything was better than bringing her daughter back to the manor where William Ashford currently stood.
But then she remembered—her mother was working at the seamstress shop, and her father—
Her stomach dropped.
Her father was at the Hamilton stables today. He would see William.
Dear God. As if the day weren’t cruel enough.
At least she had told Nathaniel the truth before now—before it could come spilling out in someone else’s voice.
Violet rose slowly, brushing the sand from her palms. Her skirt fluttered in the cooling breeze.
“Girls!” she called, forcing her voice steady. “It’s time to go.”
Three little heads lifted at once.
“Already?” Lily pouted.
“Already,” Violet said gently. “We mustn’t keep Lord Hamilton waiting.”
