“Violet.”
Her eyes squeezed shut.
“Lord Hamilton tells me you wished to speak with me,” she said, her voice steady only through sheer force of will. “But I cannot imagine what you believe you have to say… that I might wish to hear.”
“That is fair,” William answered quietly.
Silence stretched.
Then—
“I have learned a great many truths in recent weeks,” he began. “And before that—before I knew—I believed I had no right to seek you out. I was married. And you had fled Ashford Manor because of my actions—”
A low, incredulous sound escaped her—almost a laugh, but hollow and sharp.
“That is rich,” she murmured, and turned at last to face him.
“After all this time, you would lie to me about how my ‘disappearance’ came about?”
Hurt flickered across his face. His hand lifted a fraction before he let it fall, as though he’d wanted to reach for her—but thought better of it.
“Violet, I am not lying. I had no idea.”
His voice was quiet—raw.
“I was told by your father, after I returned from London, that you had left because I married another. And because of my actions, I believed it. I thought you would not welcome any sudden appearance from me. I thought you must… hate me.”
She offered him nothing.
Let the silence accuse him.
He swallowed hard.
“I do not know where to begin.”
“Then speak plainly,” she said harshly. “I will not guess at your intentions.”
“I know now,” he said slowly, “what I cost you.”
Something flickered across his face—remorse, devastation, something raw enough that she almost didn’t recognize him.
But she held her ground. Fury had lived too long inside her to retreat now.
“What exactly is it you believe you know?” she asked, voice cool as glass.
“That you were alone,” he said, each word hoarse. “That you were carrying my child. That you begged me to come home and I—”
“You chose another woman,” she cut in. “A more suitable woman. That is what you said. I remember it perfectly.”
He flinched.
“Your actions, my lord, told me that titles mattered more than promises,” she continued. “That your parents’ wishes outweighed everything you and I had ever been to each other.”
“Violet—”
“But it was your words,” she cut in, “that made everything perfectly clear.”
She stepped closer—controlled, but trembling beneath the surface.
