Beatrice gathered her papers, her knuckles pale. Her voice was calm. “Thank you for your time, Your Grace.”
She gathered her papers against her chest, inclined her head, and swept past him toward the door.
Edward fixed his gaze on the opposite wall, breathing slowly, as though doing otherwise might unravel him.
Beatrice paused in the doorway, as if she meant to say something else.
Then seemed to think better of it. The quiet click of the door closing behind her felt like a final punctuation mark.
He exhaled slowly, as though releasing the breath cost him something.
Ribbons.Lilies. Processions. All these little details.
But none of it mattered as much as the fact that she wouldn’t look at him anymore, and he would pretend he didn’t want to see her smile.
The drawing room felt full the moment Edward stepped inside. Not just with people—though there was enough of them—but with sound.
Laughter mingled with conversation, teacups clinked, and Cecily’s unmistakable voice carried above the rest like she had no intention of being ignored by walls or social convention.
“Well,” she was saying, “if this is what scandal looks like, I must say it has rather improved the house.”
Amelia laughed, the sound bright and unguarded. “Cecily!”
Edward closed the door behind him and leaned briefly against it, letting the scene orient itself around him.
Beatrice stood near the window, a teacup cradled in both hands, listening more than speaking. Simon sat beside Amelia, his hand resting lightly over hers—a quiet gesture Edward found himself noticing far too closely.
“If half of London insists on whispering,” Cecily continued, “you may as well give them something orderly to look at.”
Edward allowed himself a small smile.
“Beatrice has been formidable,” Simon said with genuine admiration.
Edward’s gaze flicked to his wife at once. She inclined her head, accepting the compliment without comment.
“Necessity,” she commented, “has a way of sharpening one’s focus.”
Cecily turned to her sister, her eyes narrowing. “You look tired,” she noted plainly. “Not undone, but… strung tight.”
Edward felt the word lodge somewhere uncomfortable.
“I’m quite well,” Beatrice replied politely.
Cecily hummed. “Yes, that’s what I said.”
Edward crossed the room and took a seat slightly apart from the others. He told himself it was for the sake of space. He did not trust himself to move closer.
Cecily folded her hands. “I wanted to see you all before tomorrow,” she added. “Afterward, everything will be noise and congratulations and people telling you what abeautifulday it was.”
Amelia smiled softly. “I’m already overwhelmed.”
“You should be.” Cecily smiled. “It means you care.” Her gaze deliberately slid to Edward. “And have you decided who will carry Pip into the chapel?”
“Yes,” Amelia replied. “Edward and Beatrice.”
Edward felt the words land in his chest like a lead weight.
Simon nodded. “It seemed right.”
