Greyson said nothing for a heartbeat. Then, very quietly, he continued. “But do you know what happened there?”
Something in his tone made Jasper straighten. “No,” he said slowly. “Should I?”
Greyson’s silver eyes shifted toward him, and there was an unusual openness flickering there before he looked away again. “Because of Hazel… my mother came back to me.”
Jasper blinked. “I… beg your pardon?”
Greyson’s jaw worked as though the words had to fight their way free. “If only for a moment,” he said. “She… recognized me, Jasper.”
Jasper stared, with his lips parting in astonishment. For once, he had no ready quip.
“She looked directly at me. Not through me, not past me, but at me.” He exhaled, the memory striking him again with unexpected force. “And it was my mother, not the shadow she has become.”
Jasper moved closer. “Greyson… that is remarkable.”
Greyson nodded once. It was a clipped movement, but his eyes betrayed him. “I have Hazel to thank for that.”
Jasper let out a low whistle. “Good God.”
Greyson braced one hand against the edge of the writing table. “I do not understand how she does it. She barely raised her voice. She simply sat beside my mother and read to her in that quiet way of hers… and suddenly my mother was…” He broke off, looking away again. “Present.”
Jasper allowed only a single moment before he was back to his usual self. “So, you are telling me that Hazel has done more for you in a few weeks than most people have accomplished in your entire life.”
Greyson shot him a half-glare for the sentimentality.
Jasper raised both hands. “I mean that as praise, not insult.”
Greyson looked back toward the window, toward the garden Hazel had filled with laughter minutes prior. “I owe her more than I can say.”
Jasper held his gaze, understanding something crucial had shifted.
“Then perhaps,” he said quietly, “it is time to stop being afraid of what she makes you feel.”
Greyson gave him a look that was equal parts stubbornness and unease. It was the look of a man being pushed toward a truth he was not ready to claim.
“We will not discuss feelings,” Greyson said.
Jasper smiled. “But Greyson, old boy… we already are.”
Greyson growled under his breath, but Jasper only laughed in that warm, amused sound of a friend who knew precisely how to push, and precisely when to stop.
“I told her,” Hazel announced the moment she entered Matilda’s drawing room. “I told my mother I would no longer be responsible for my sisters.”
Evelyn’s teacup clattered against its saucer. “Youwhat?”
Matilda nearly dropped the embroidery she was threading. “You confronted Lady Belvington?”
Cordelia gasped in a manner entirely disproportionate to the news, clutching her heart. “Why, Hazel, you brave, magnificent creature!”
Hazel shrugged, though her pulse still fluttered with the remnants of the morning’s storm. “It was long overdue.”
Evelyn set her teacup down very slowly, as if steady enough handling might keep the universe from tilting. “Hazel, forgive me, but… you have been trying to say that for years. What changed?”
Hazel blinked. “I did.”
Matilda leaned forward. “Tell us everything.”
Hazel took a breath, and for once it didn’t feel heavy. “I told Mama exactly how I felt, that I had carried responsibilities that were not meant for a child, that I had been treated as a third parent, and that I could not, andwould not, continue managing every aspect of my sisters’ lives.”
