It was the faintest pressure, but the meaning of it—theneedin it—struck him with such force that he turned at once.
Her eyes met his, glistening as if she were holding in too much. The sight of her distress hit him like a punch to the gut, tightening something deep inside him.
Edward didn’t think. He wrapped his arm around her waist and guided her toward the door. She followed without resistance.
The moment the latch clicked softly behind them, her shoulders dropped. The corridor was warmer than the study, lit by candles that threw shadows across the walls.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. They stood there, warm light pooling around their feet, the house suddenly too quiet.
Beatrice pressed her lips together, swallowed, opened her mouth, and failed to speak.
Edward moved closer. “Beatrice…”
“I’m fine,” she whispered, her breath catching. “It’s only—I should be happy. Truly. Pip has her family now. A proper family.” Her laugh was thin, brittle around the edges. “I can stop stealing into the nursery at midnight to check if she’s still breathing. Mrs. Hart thinks I’m overly anxious, but I… I couldn’t help it.”
Her voice wavered. She blinked hard, and a tear caught on her lashes.
Edward stepped closer still, close enough to see the pulse at her throat. “Beatrice?—”
“I shouldn’t…” She shook her head, the tear slipping free. “I shouldn’t feel anything at all. I knew she wasn’t mine. I toldmyself that every day. But it doesn’t make this any easier.” Her hand came up, covering her mouth, shaking.
Edward reached out slowly. He cupped her face in both hands, his thumbs brushing away the tears on her cheeks. She froze, her breath trembling, her eyes wide and luminous in the lamplight.
“You love her,” he said softly. “You protected her when no one else dared to. There is nothing wrong with that.”
She closed her eyes at the sound of his voice, leaning faintly into his touch, and his heart sped up.
Her eyes opened again, full of hurt, gratitude, and something warmer that made his pulse skitter.
“I don’t want to be selfish,” she whispered. “But losing her feels like losing something I never admitted I’d hoped for.”
“No,” he agreed gently. “But she was safe thanks to you.”
Her breath shuddered, and more tears spilled—silent, unrestrained now that he was holding her.
“And now she won’t need me at all,” she croaked.
His chest tightened painfully. “That isn’t true.”
“It is,” she insisted, her voice cracking. “And I shouldn’t—Edward, I shouldn’t feel like—like—” She choked on the words.
He tilted her face up a little, his hands warm. “Tell me.”
She shook her head, blinking fast. “No. I’ll only say something foolish.”
“Then say it.” His hands slid to her jaw, his fingers curling gently behind her ears.
Her gaze locked on his, raw and unguarded. “If I ever want children…”
She inhaled sharply, realizing what she was about to say. Her cheeks flushed, and her lower lip trembled.
Edward inched closer—too close, dangerously close—his breath warm against her cheek. “Beatrice,” he murmured, unable to pull back, “finish your thought.”
Her chest rose and fell with quick, uneven breaths. Her gaze flicked to his mouth, stirring a dull ache within him. He felt her tremble under his touch.
“If I ever want children,” she whispered, “you?—”
The rest stuck in her throat.
