“I saw you at Lord Hamilton’s house,” Lily said at last, tilting her head in quiet curiosity. “Are you his friend?”
William looked momentarily at a loss, his mouth opening and closing again without sound.
Noticing his hesitation, her father gave Lily another playful tickle, which set off a fresh burst of laughter. Eventually she wiggled to be set down, and he obliged; the moment her feet touched the grass, she darted off again. He watched her go, a faint smile lingering as he straightened, then his gaze lifted to Violet and Edith in the doorway, and he raised a hand in greeting.
William followed the motion.
And his eyes found Violet.
Across the yard.
Across the fence.
Across five years of silence and pain—and feelings she had sworn never to face again.
She gripped the doorframe until her knuckles ached.
She would not—could not—believe his presence meant anything. Not yet. Not when words were so easily spoken and broken.
She hadn’t noticed her mother draw nearer, and the soft murmur at her ear made her flinch.
“Go dress yourself properly, Violet. I’ll put the water on.”
The tone—gentle yet unmistakably instructive—made Violet feel absurdly like a chastised child.
So she clung to irritation instead.
As she walked toward her room, she called irritably over her shoulder, “I don’t want tea.”
“I didn’t ask,” her mother called back.
Violet bit back a reply and went to dress.
When she returned—face washed, hair pinned with brisk, angry fingers, and her morning gown pulled on—her mother was already at the hearth, pouring steaming water into the teapot.
She approached the table—and froze.
Four cups sat neatly arranged.
Her stomach dropped. “Why… four?”
“Mrs. Pembroke and Clara were walking by when I arrived,” she said. “I told them to stop in for tea shortly; I was just about to set the water on.”
“Mama—”
“Violet,” she cut in gently, “this village is small. Everyone hears a hammer against wood before breakfast.”
Violet sank into the chair, fingers curling around the table’s edge.
Her mother’s next words tightened something behind her ribs.
“Besides… they already saw your father and Mr. Ashford working on your fence. I saw them speaking as I came up the path.”
Violet’s heart lurched. “They spoke to him?”
Then the rest of her mother’s words registered.
“Wait—Mr.Ashford?”
