Madeline’s voice cut in softly, carefully polite. “Your Grace?”
Wilhelm’s gaze shifted to her fully. “Yes.”
She drew a breath, and for a moment he saw the effort in her composure, as though she were forcing her fear to behave. “Is it necessary,” she asked, “that Lady Theresa and I accompany you?”
Wilhelm frowned. “Why would you not?”
Madeline’s eyes met his own, but there was something guarded there now, something that made his chest tighten. “London is… crowded,” she said.
Wilhelm’s jaw tightened. He had already decided, consciously, that going to London was necessary, because Henry’s warning had made it clear that remaining here with Madeline in his daily orbit would become unbearable. He needed distance.
“Tessa will come,” Wilhelm said.
Tessa nodded vehemently, as though daring anyone to contradict her. “I want to go.”
Madeline’s gaze flicked to Tessa, and Wilhelm saw the quick calculation there, the way she smoothed herself into agreement for the child’s sake. Her mouth curved into a smile that looked practiced rather than real.
“Of course,” Madeline said. “It will be… a good experience.”
Wilhelm did not like the way her voice changed on the last words, as though she were holding herself together by force, but he could not press her further.
Tessa’s grin returned. “Miss Watton will be with me.”
He pushed his chair back with controlled motion. “Finish your breakfast,” he told Tessa, then he inclined his head to Madeline. “We must start packing.”
As he spoke, his gaze lingered on her a fraction longer than necessary. She had not brightened at the mention of London, not even slightly. No curiosity, no anticipation—only a careful stillness, as though the idea of crowded rooms and watchful eyes weighed more heavily on her than the journey itself.
He wondered, not for the first time, what it was she feared in places where too many eyes might linger, and how deeply her mother’s scrutiny had taken root.
Madeline’s eyes lifted, alert. “Of course, Your Grace.”
He left for his study before his restraint could fray further.
Visiting London, he reminded himself, was necessary. In London, he would put distance between him and temptation. Yet as he stared at the closed door, he knew with bleak clarity that distance did not erase hunger.
CHAPTER 13
“Is this where we’re staying?”
Madeline paused just inside the threshold, one gloved hand still resting lightly at Tessa’s shoulder as she took in the sweep of Wilhelm’s London townhouse, the high ceilings and polished floors catching the late-afternoon light in a way that made everything feel too bright, exposed, and far too close to a world she had spent years learning how to avoid. The house was grand without being ostentatious, its elegance restrained, much like its owner, and that, somehow, unsettled her more than if it had been loudly extravagant.
“Yes,” Wilhelm replied, already shrugging out of his coat as a footman stepped forward to take it. His voice was calm and controlled, as though London were merely another extension of his will rather than a city that swallowed people whole. “This is our townhouse.”
Tessa turned in a slow circle, eyes wide, her excitement barely contained as she took in the sweeping staircase and the tall windows that overlooked the street beyond.
“It’s even bigger than I remember,” she declared, then glanced back at her father with a grin. “You reckon I’ll get lost here again?”
Wilhelm’s mouth curved faintly, the smallest hint of amusement softening his expression. “Only if you decide to explore without me again.”
Madeline watched him as he spoke, aware of the way his presence filled the room without effort, the way servants seemed to align themselves instinctively around him, attentive without being obsequious. London suited him in a way she had not expected.
“I will not be dining with you this evening,” Wilhelm continued, turning his attention back to Tessa, his tone careful, measured. “I have an engagement.”
Tessa’s brows drew together at once. “Tonight?”
“Yes.”
“With whom?” she pressed, already dissatisfied.
