And then, she started to play.
The first notes were soft as snowfall, tentative but deliberate. Then warmer, richer, unfurling into a melody that filled the room with a quiet, aching beauty. Each phrase rose and fell like breath, each shift of her hands revealing memory and skill, reverence and longing.
Her face softened as she played. Her brows loosened, mouth parting slightly with the effort of emotion rather than technique. She leaned into certain chords and lifted her chin at others, as though coaxing the music from a hidden place inside her.
Tessa watched with open awe.
Henry whispered, “Good God…”
Wilhelm said nothing. He couldn’t force a single word out. Something in him, something he had kept tightly held for years, shifted with a slow give. It felt almost like a crack running through old stone, small but undeniable.
When Miss Watton finished, the final note hung for a moment before fading into the quiet of the room.
Tessa burst into applause, nearly bouncing off the floor with excitement. Henry clapped as well, offering an appreciative nod toward the instrument, but Wilhelm didn’t move. His hands stayed at his sides, fingers curling into a fist as if he needed something solid to hold on to.
Henry leaned closer, pitching his voice low but very much meant for Wilhelm’s ears.
“You were questioning her credentials earlier,” he murmured. “Whether she was truly suited to the role.” His gaze flicked meaningfully toward Madeline before returning to Wilhelm. “I should say she has rather answered that.”
Wilhelm kept his expression unreadable. “She is adequate.”
Henry stared at him. “Adequate? Dear God, Will.”
Miss Watton blinked. Then, she startled into a small laugh which she quickly hid behind her hand.
Henry rolled his eyes toward the ceiling. “Miss Watton, allow me to offer a far more truthful assessment: your talent is extraordinary. I haven’t heard playing that moving in years.”
’Miss Watton’s cheeks turned scarlet immediately. “You are kind.”
Henry grinned. “I am honest. A rare virtue, but one I enjoy exercising.”
Miss Watton chuckled lightly then waved her hand dismissively in Henry’s direction as if she meant to swat away his effusive flattery.
Tessa rose from her spot on the floor and wrapped Miss Watton in a tremendous embrace. From his vantage point, Wilhelm could not see the look on his daughter’s face, but Miss Watton’s was one of pure bliss. She was caught up in the joy of the moment and that moved Wilhelm extraordinarily.
As Henry darted forward and pretended to join in the hug, the ladies burst out with laughter and that caused Wilhelm to experience a stab of something quite different.
Jealousy.
The word formed before he could stop it. Ridiculous and inappropriate. He tried to shove it aside, but it clung stubbornly, coiled beneath his ribs.
Madeline rose from the bench with that quiet grace of hers, smoothing her skirts as though the simple gesture might steady her. A faint flush touched her cheeks, and her eyes held the brightness of someone still caught between embarrassment and the lingering echo of the music she had played.
Henry stepped toward her with the easy confidence of a man who had never been made to question his welcome anywhere. His posture loosened, shoulders dropping back, chin angling just slightly, enough to signal charm without effort. His smile curved crookedly, inviting rather than bold. Madeline looked at him with polite attention, unaware of the way Henry’s gaze swept appreciatively over her face.
Wilhelm felt his jaw clamp so hard a dull ache spread along the hinge of it.
Henry rested a casual hand on the edge of the pianoforte, leaning in just enough to draw her focus fully.
“If you ever tire of governess work,” he said lightly, eyes bright with interest, “I could hire you to tutor my entire household in music.”
Miss Watton let out a soft, breathy laugh. It curled airily throughout the room. “You honor me greatly, my lord, but I believe I have my hands full already,” she replied, brushing aloose curl behind her ear in a gesture so small yet so disarming it made Henry grin wider.
“Tragic,” Henry sighed dramatically. “I shall mourn the loss of such talent.”
Wilhelm moved before either of them could take another step.
One moment Henry stood between them, charming and far too close; the next, Wilhelm stepped forward, positioning himself directly in Henry’s path. He didn’t push or speak, but the shift was unmistakable.
