Instinct made Edward look away, as if the tenderness of the moment was something indecent to witness. When he glanced back, she had already straightened, brushing her hands down her skirts as though smoothing away the emotion she couldn’t quite hide.
Then she turned toward the door. Towardhim.
Edward darted to the side. He pressed himself against the wall outside the nursery, his heart hammering in his chest, like a boy caught spying. Her footsteps approached, the hem of her gown brushing the floorboards.
She stepped through the door, only inches from him, unaware he was there at all.
Edward let out a slow, shuddering breath once she had gone. He remained there, his throat tight.
He knew this distance was partly his doing—his restraint, his fear, that near-kiss in the corridor, and the way he had almost lost control.
He wanted her. But more terrifying than desire was the unfamiliar ache that came with it.
He didn’t want to want anyone.Wanting meant hurting. And hurting meant being vulnerable. So he stayed still. Still and distant.
CHAPTER 26
The next morning dawned pale and cold, the light dimmed by a thin veil of clouds. Beatrice had slept fitfully because there was so much to do.
Today’s hours would be filled with final lists, confirmations, and quiet reassurances—ribbons to check, linens to sort, breakfast to plan, carriages to prepare.
Amelia’s wedding and Pip’s christening would take place tomorrow. A joyful tangle of events, but a tangle nonetheless.
Beatrice rose earlier than usual and dressed in a modest dove-gray gown suited to work rather than display. Halfway down the stairs, she paused.
Edward stood at the bottom. He looked up when she reached the last steps.
He had clearly not expected her; his eyebrows rose in surprise. He wore a dark morning coat, his cravat tied with perfect precision, his hair slightly tousled as though he had run a hand through it too many times. A newspaper was tucked under his arm.
They both stopped. Both of them hesitated before arranging their expressions into something polite.
“Good morning,” Beatrice greeted, her tone crisp despite the unease beneath her skin.
“Good morning,” Edward returned in the same tone. “You’re up early.”
“As are you.”
“Yes.” He cleared his throat. “I thought I would look over the accounts before breakfast.”
“And I,” she replied lightly, “thought I should review the last of the christening arrangements. Tomorrow will arrive faster than anyone expects.”
He nodded. “Yes. Tomorrow. I have a few matters to settle as well. Simon sent a note—they’ll be here shortly to go through the schedule.”
“Good,” she uttered, relieved. “The smoother tomorrow goes, the better for all of them.”
He agreed with a quiet hum, shifting the paper under his arm. “And for Pip, especially.”
Beatrice smiled faintly. “Yes. She’ll grow up knowing the truth, surrounded by everyone who loves her.”
Edward looked thoughtful. “It is a relief the scandal won’t follow her. Or them. Pip’s parentage is settled. Amelia and Simon are finally doing what they should have done long ago.”
Beatrice nodded with a sigh. “They love her. That’s all that matters.”
“Yes,” Edward agreed. “The wedding and christening will make that plain to everyone.” Warmth flickered briefly across his face.
“It’s good,” Beatrice said softly. “Pip deserves all of it. And they deserve her.”
He nodded firmly. “They do.”
