“Yes,” her mother continued. “We shall purchase new bonnets. Every one of us.” She glanced pointedly at her daughters. “Heaven knows, you all appear in need of fresh air and perhaps a reminder that the world continues beyond these walls.”
Chastity clapped her hands at once. “Oh, splendid!”
Patience smiled more quietly, but with clear approval. “That would be pleasant.”
Hazel felt something warm unfurl in her chest at the sight of the simple joy in shared anticipation. “New bonnets do seem a sensible remedy,” she agreed.
Her mother smiled at her then, with a look that held gratitude as much as affection. “And you, my dear,” she added, “will come as yourself, not as anyone’s keeper.”
Hazel inclined her head. “I should like that.”
They gathered shawls and gloves, conversation already turning to colors and trimmings. Hazel moved among them, smiling, listening, offering opinions without absorbing responsibility, and for a few precious moments, the world felt almost… balanced.
Yet even as warmth settled around her, the ache remained. Greyson’s face rose unbidden in her mind. She pushed it down. She had chosen, and choices demanded endurance.
As they stepped out into the bright day together, Hazel drew a steady breath. She would walk forward.
Even if part of her heart remained, for now, painfully behind.
Greyson shut the door to his study with more force than strictly necessary.
“Ah, there you are,” Jasper said brightly, rising from the chair near the hearth. “I have been waiting for you for over an hour.”
Greyson did not slow. He crossed the room, set his gloves down with sharp precision, and turned a glare upon his friend. “Whatever madness you have come to share or inflict, I am not in the mood.”
Jasper blinked. “Good morning to you as well.”
“If you intend to jest,” Greyson continued flatly, “I suggest you do it elsewhere.”
Jasper lifted his hands in surrender. “Very well. No jesting. Only concern.” He studied Greyson more closely, the levity draining from his expression. “You look as though you have not slept or eaten. Or breathed properly, for that matter.”
“Hazel is not returning,” Greyson snapped.
Jasper frowned. “Returning where? Here?”
“Yes,” Greyson repeated, the word scraped raw now. “She will remain at her parents’ house indefinitely. She has sent for her belongings, along with a letter. And she has decided, without speaking to me, mind you, that our marriage has served its purpose.”
Jasper opened his mouth, then shut it again. “Ah.”
Greyson turned away, pacing like a caged animal. “I went to Belvington. I missed her by minutes. She would not see me.” His voice fractured despite his efforts. “She thinks I wanted this. That I wanted to be free of her.”
Jasper followed him with his gaze. “And you do not.”
Greyson stopped abruptly. “I love her.”
The admission fell heavily and unguarded into the room. Jasper went still.
“I love her,” Greyson repeated, more fiercely now, as though daring the truth to stand unchallenged. “And I have no idea what to do. I have spent my life believing love was weakness, believing it destroyed everything it touched, and now I am undone by it.” He dragged a hand through his hair. “I want her back, Jasper, more than I ever wanted anything in my entire life.”
Jasper exhaled slowly. “Well. That explains the snapping.”
Greyson shot him a look. “Do not make light of this.”
“I am not,” Jasper said quietly. “I am thinking.”
Greyson laughed harshly. “Think quickly, then. Because she has built an entire life around leaving quietly, and I fear she will succeed.”
Jasper crossed the room and rested a hand briefly on Greyson’s shoulder. “You are not accustomed to being the one left behind.”
