Beatrice raised an eyebrow. “Which one?”
“TheChronicle,” Simon answered. “There was a mention of the orphanage.”
Edward’s mouth twitched. “Ah.”
“They called you the kindest couple in London,” Amelia said carefully.
Beatrice shook her head. “Ridiculous.”
Edward leaned in, his voice low. “I rather like it.”
Beatrice let out a quiet breath. “That’s rather more than we deserve.”
Amelia turned to her at once. “No, it isn’t.” Her voice held no doubt. “I’ve seen how you stay, even when it’s difficult.Especiallythen.”
Edward looked at Beatrice, something unspoken passing between them, and nodded once. “As have I.”
She smiled at him.
Several months ago, she had learned how fragile a reputation could be.
Now, she knew something better had taken its place.
The house laughed. The table was full. The work continued. And it was enough.
The fire had burned warmly by the time they reached their room, the coals glowing like something alive but resting. The curtains were already drawn, the bed turned down, the quiet of the house settling around them like a held breath.
Beatrice crossed to the dressing table and removed the pins from her hair one by one, putting them carefully in a porcelain dish. Her shoulders relaxed as the weight lifted off, her features softer now.
Edward watched from the chair near the hearth.
It still startled her how openly he looked at her, as though choosing her was something he did repeatedly, on purpose.
“You know,” he remarked, “at the rate you’re going, London will wake up one morning and discover you’ve quietly taken control of every charitable organization worth mentioning. You'll probably have Parliament trembling.”
She smiled at her own reflection. “You exaggerate. That sounds exhausting.”
“I am married to facts,” he replied. “And one of them is that you have not sat down properly in three days.”
She crossed the room and perched on the edge of their bed. “I sat this morning.”
“Youperched.”
“I perched productively.” She looked down, unbuttoning the cuffs of her dress. “Besides, I already have enough to do.”
“Do you?” Edward’s tone was light but curious. “I was under the impression that you enjoyed collecting responsibilities the way some people collect stray cats.”
She laughed softly, the sound easing something in her chest, and sat more fully on the bed. “I’m writing again.”
That caught his attention.
He leaned forward, with pride shining in his eyes. “You never said.”
“I wasn’t sure I would,” she admitted.
“Under a new name?” he asked lightly.
“No.” Her fingers worried at the hem of her sleeve. “Under none.”
