Edward led Simon inside and down the corridor to the nursery.
“Come inside. She is here.”
Simon swallowed, turning paler. “Amelia… and the baby?”
Edward stepped into the nursery without ceremony. “Yes.”
Beatrice stood near the hearth, her hand resting lightly on Lady Amelia’s shoulder. Lady Amelia was seated, cradling the sleeping baby against her chest, her head bowed, her dark curls falling forward.
Simon froze. His eyes darted to the baby, then to the young woman holding her, then back to the baby, as if his mind couldn’t piece the picture together.
“Amelia?” he breathed.
Her whole body jolted at the sound of his voice. She dragged her head up as if it hurt to do so. “Simon?”
The sight of him seemed to hit her like a physical blow. Her lips parted, but no sound came out. Her eyes welled instantly, betraying her even though she tried to keep her composure. A single tear slid down her cheek, but she brushed it away too late.
“Simon,” she whispered hoarsely.
He stared at the baby. “That’s—Is it?—?”
“Yes,” Lady Amelia whispered.
Edward gently closed the door behind them.
Beatrice stepped back, giving Lady Amelia space. Edward remained by the door, silent, watchful.
For several long seconds, Simon didn’t move at all—his face draining of color, his body tipping forward slightly, as if the moment had knocked him off balance.
“God,” he breathed. “This is real.”
Lady Amelia’s lip trembled. “She… she always was.”
Simon winced. He moved toward the chair across from her, as if pulled by a tether, but didn’t sit. He looked down at the tiny face nestled against her shoulder.
Beatrice stepped away. “Perhaps we should go to the study.”
Edward nodded in agreement.
Lady Amelia followed them out after placing Pip in her cradle. Simon moved last, each step heavy.
Once they were all in the study, Edward gently closed the door.
Simon went to the fireplace, his hands twitching. Lady Amelia settled in a chair, twisting the hem of her sleeve. Beatrice stood beside her like a quiet, protective shadow.
Edward remained by the door, his arms folded.
Finally, Simon spoke, his voice rough. “I don’t know what to say. I don’t—I’ve thought of nothing else since you left London.”
Lady Amelia let out a soft sound of disbelief.
“I—This wasn’t supposed to happen.”
“Which part?” Edward asked evenly. “The child? Or are you running from the mother?”
Simon swallowed hard, his eyes fixed on Lady Amelia. “I didn’t run from you.”
“You did,” Lady Amelia said softly. “You left the moment things got real.”
