Simon winced. “All right, I ran. I did—God, Amelia, you know how I was. I’d been living like an idiot since I was twenty. Drinking, gambling, listening to fools who made vice sound like freedom.” He raked a hand through his hair. “I cared for you. I did. But caring felt like a trap then, and I panicked. I thought I’d ruin your life.”
“You nearly did,” Lady Amelia whispered.
Beatrice watched them, her expression neutral.
Simon stepped forward, only to stop short. “I know.”
Silence stretched.
He looked at Lady Amelia, his shoulders lowering, something helpless but sincere tightening his expression.
“I never meant for this to happen. I never wanted?—”
He broke off, shaking his head. “No, that’s wrong. I didn’tthink. That’s the truth. I lived as if nothing mattered.” He hung his head. “I was a coward. Because everything I learned from every man I admired was worthless. Everything my father praised in me was wrong—swagger, recklessness, charm. I used it to hide from anything that mattered.”
His throat worked. “I cared for you. More than I said. More than I showed. I should have not kept my distance out of fear. I should have courted you properly lie you deserve. I should have protected you. I should have claimed you both.”
Lady Amelia’s chin trembled, though she kept her head high.
Simon swallowed hard. “If you’ll… if you’ll still have me, Amelia, I want to make it right. I will marry you. Publicly. Immediately. And I will be a father to him—” He glanced toward the door. “To her.”
Lady Amelia closed her eyes, more tears spilling over. Beatrice rested a gentle hand on her shoulder.
“I…” Lady Amelia took a deep breath. “Yes, I want that. I do.”
Simon exhaled shakily, relief looking almost painful on his face.
“But listen to me,” Lady Amelia added, her voice gaining strength. “I will never abandon my child again. Not for my parents. Not for theton. Not foryou.”
Simon nodded at once—earnest, humbled. “I wouldn’t ask you to. Never again.” He swallowed. “Amelia… I’m so sorry.”
She rose from her seat and stepped toward him. He reached out and touched her gently, as if afraid he might cause harm with too much pressure.
Edward watched quietly from the door. Beatrice watched too, a mix of protectiveness and tenderness flickering in her eyes.
Simon looked around at them. “I… I can’t thank you enough for taking care of her.”
Beatrice’s voice was soft but firm. “She deserves nothing less.”
Simon’s eyes glistened.
For the first time in years, Edward saw not the reckless cousin he had spent years dragging out of trouble, but a man trying earnestly to straighten himself out.
Simon and Lady Amelia were speaking softly when Edward felt the room tilt in a direction that did not belong to him. Simon needed Lady Amelia. Lady Amelia needed Simon. And the child… the child needed them both.
His place was no longer there. Not at the center of that moment, at least. He should have kept his attention on them, but something shifted in the corner of his vision.
Beatrice stood beside Amelia, her face drawn too tight. Her eyes glistened, though she blinked quickly to hide it. He couldn’t ignore the strain in her posture—the precise way she held her shoulders, as though suppressing emotions she refused to show.
A faint tremor racked his body.
Before he knew it, Edward stepped away from the door and crossed the room. Quietly. He stopped at Beatrice’s side, close enough that his sleeve brushed her arm.
She didn’t look up at first, but she knew he was there. He saw it in the slight twitch at the corner of her mouth, heard it in the softening of her breath.
Something in his chest tugged hard enough to unsettle him. He had never been this sensitive to anyone’s emotions. He was starting to recognize the discomfort of it now.
Simon said something, and Lady Amelia choked out a soft sound in response. As they continued speaking, Beatrice’s hand drifted toward him, her fingers brushing his sleeve.
