Tessa, oblivious to the electric thread between them, hopped off the bench and ran toward her father, but Wilhelm barely lowered his gaze to her. For a moment he kept his eyes on Madeline.
She felt it like a touch, the way his jaw shifted, the faintest tightening. And then he exhaled, a quiet, contained breath that sounded very much like restraint.
Madeline’s lips parted, though she had no words prepared to speak. The silence between them prickled across her skin and she wondered if he felt it too. Something in the way he stood, too still and aware, told her he did.
Henry turned to her then, breaking the tension with a sudden brightness.
“So,” he drawled, stepping forward with a gentleman’s ease while the Duke’s gaze lingered on her a beat longer, “you must be Miss Watton. I have heardsomuch about you.”
CHAPTER 7
“Remind me why we are returning to the house,” Henry asked as they crossed the front corridor, brushing snow from his shoulders with a dramatic sweep. “I could have sworn you promised me wine.”
Wilhelm didn’t slow. “You may drink after I check on my daughter.”
Henry scoffed. “You mean after you check on your new governess.”
Wilhelm shot him a warning look over his shoulder, but it only made Henry grin wider.
They rounded the final corner toward the music room. Even before Wilhelm reached the open doorway, he heard a soft, hesitant melody played with the uneven grace of someone learning. Tessa’s laugh chimed in the spaces between notes, warm and bright.
Wilhelm’s steps softened.
Henry peered in first, brows lifting. “Well,” he whispered, leaning just enough to see inside, “that’s rather charming.”
Wilhelm said nothing. He paused in the doorway, letting the scene settle around him.
Tessa sat perched on the pianoforte bench, legs swinging as she pressed the keys with earnest, over-serious concentration.
And beside her—their shoulders nearly brushing—sat Miss Watton.
She leaned toward the girl with effortless poise, her posture both delicate and attentive. A few loose strands of cinnamon-brown hair had fallen across her cheek as she guided Tessa’s hand along the keys; her fingers moved with gentle confidence, coaxing rather than correcting. Morning light streamed through the tall windows, softening her features, highlighting her skin in a way that made her seem almost part of the music itself.
The sight hit him with a quiet, unexpected force he hadn’t braced for as it was unsettling in its simplicity.
Before he could gather himself, Henry strode past him with the self-assured ease of someone who had never once been unwelcome anywhere. “Are we interrupting?”
Tessa’s head whipped around. “Uncle Henry!”
Miss Watton rose at once, her skirts whispering against the bench, her hands smoothing her gown in a movement that looked instinctive. Her posture lengthened, her spine finding a poised straightness, her chin lifting by the smallest degree.
Wilhelm caught the faint tightening at the corners of her mouth, the subtle shift that betrayed the sudden awareness of being observed.
Her eyes lifted to him for the briefest of moments. She spared him a single glance, quick and almost unwilling, yet it struck him with the force of something far more intentional. Heat followed in its wake, a slow and unmistakable thrum beneath his ribs that he couldn’t wish away.
Henry clapped a hand over his chest. “So,” he declared, stepping forward with an elegant half-bow, “you must be Miss Watton. I have heard so much about you. Allow me to introduce myself. Henry Welles, Marquess of Heathston.”
Madeline’s brows lifted, her lips parting with a soft, startled breath. She looked caught between amusement and embarrassment, her hands clasping lightly before her. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, my lord. I certainly hope you’ve not heard anything bad.”
“Oh, on the contrary,” Henry said while giving her an amiable smile.
He reached for her hand. His fingers closed around hers, light and confident, and he lifted her knuckles to his lips with practiced grace.
Wilhelm saw Miss Watton gasp softly, as a rush of color bloomed across her cheeks, rising all the way to her ears. Her eyes widened in surprise, then darted shyly toward the floor.
Wilhelm’s jaw locked. Heat flared low in his chest, unreasonable yet persistent. He kept his stance perfectly still, but something inside him tightened in a way he had not felt in years. The sight of Madeline blushing under Henry’s touch scraped against every instinct he possessed.
Henry lingered only a moment before releasing her hand with theatrical reverence.
