The carriage rocked softly beneath them as he exhaled, a long, quiet breath that seemed to loosen something tight in his chest. He leaned back against the cushioned seat, though not fully; hisposture remained alert, shoulders still taut, as though another jolt of panic might seize him at any moment.
“You frightened me,” he said quietly, his gaze still fixed on her.
Tessa’s lower lip pushed forward, her brows knitting together in an expression that mixed indignation with the faintest glimmer of guilt. “I didn’t mean to,” she said, her voice rising as her chin lifted stubbornly. “I only wanted to look at the skaters.”
“And you lost sight of me,” the Duke replied. The muscles along his jaw tightened as he studied her face, searching for any hint that she understood the gravity of what she’d done.
“You lost sight ofme,” she countered, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. Her cheeks puffed slightly as she narrowed her eyes at him. “I was right there.”
The Duke’s gaze sharpened, his eyes narrowing. A faint line formed between his brows, the tension drawing across his features like a shadow.
“You were not right there,” he said, his voice controlled and firm. “You were halfway across the tent.”
“It wasn’t halfway,” she muttered, her mouth twisting into a mulish pout, though her lashes flickered in a way that suggested she suspected she was losing ground.
“It may as well have been,” the Duke grunted.
Madeline watched the tension coil between them, father and daughter mirroring each other in stubbornness and hurt, neither willing to soften first. She shifted forward slightly on the carriage seat, drawn in despite herself. The urge to stabilize the moment rose almost before she realized she meant to speak.
“Your Grace,” she said softly.
Both turned.
Madeline’s voice gentled, her tone coaxing rather than chastising. “She did not wander away with mischief in her heart. Children see something they love and run toward it before they think twice. It’s a habit of youth, not disobedience.”
The Duke’s jaw tightened. “And if she had fallen? If no one had been near?”
“I was near,” Madeline said quietly. “And so were your instincts. You found her within moments.”
Tessa nodded eagerly. “See? Miss Watton agrees with me.”
Madeline smiled faintly, the expression softening her features as she tilted her head toward Tessa. “I don’t believe I said that.”
The child’s brows pulled together in a puzzled knot and her nose scrunched slightly. “Didn’t you?”
“I said you didn’t leave with bad intentions,” Madeline replied gently, her voice warm and firm. “But you must remember that when people love you, their fear is part of that love.” She shifted a little closer, her hands resting loosely in her lap as she met Tessa’s eyes. “Your father wasn’t angry without reason. He was frightened because he thought you might be hurt.”
Tessa blinked slowly, her lashes lowering and lifting again as her frown softened. Her shoulders, once rigid with indignation, slumped a fraction, and her fingers eased from the defensive grip they had around her seat.
“He was really frightened?” she murmured, her voice smaller now, threaded with dawning understanding.
Madeline nodded, her gaze flicking briefly toward Wilhelm before returning to the girl. “Terrified, I imagine.”
At that, the Duke’s eyes snapped toward her. His brows lifted ever so slightly, a faint line forming between them as though he was both offended by her boldness and moved by her accuracy, yet he said nothing.
The girl turned back to him. Her expression had softened and her eyes were wide with new curiosity. “Were you, Papa?” she asked, leaning forward just a little. Her voice was cautious, as if fearing the truth might break under its own weight.
The Duke cleared his throat, his posture stiffening. His gaze shifted away for a moment, settling on the carriage window as if the passing blur of winter landscape might offer him an escape.
“That is not the point,” he muttered, though his voice lacked its earlier edge.
Tessa’s lips drew together in a small pout as her gaze dropped to her boots. She lifted one hand to fiddle with a loose thread on her mitten.
“It feels like the point,” she whispered.
Madeline’s lips curved, the warmth of it reaching her eyes before she could stop it, but it seemed to soften the air between all three of them, as though she had quietly rearranged the moment into something gentler simply by being in it.
Tessa slid across the seat until she reached her father and nestled softly against his arm. “I’m sorry, Papa. I didn’t mean to make you worry.”
