Four days had passed since Wilhelm had stood far too close in the library, his presence filling the space around her so completely she had forgotten, for one perilous heartbeat, that the world existed beyond the pull between them.
Four days since he had begun avoiding her.
She focused on her book, avoiding thoughts of him and his absence, knowing that his distance now pained her more than his presence ever did.
She often told herself it was for the best, but the ache remained all the same.
The door to the schoolroom opened with a creak.
Madeline did not need to look up to know who it was. Her body recognized him before her mind could catch up. A sudden rush of heat and awareness swept through her so quickly it left her breath shallow. She forced herself to remain still. Her finger rested on the page as though nothing at all had changed.
“Papa,” Tessa said brightly, twisting around on her chair. “We’re reading.”
“I can see that,” Wilhelm replied, his voice was cool and far too calm.
Madeline lifted her gaze at last, her heart already racing, and found him standing just inside the threshold, dark coat immaculate, expression unreadable. His eyes moved from Tessa to her, and for a split second, but long enough to make her pulse stutter, something flickered there. Then it was gone.
“Good morning, Your Grace,” Madeline said, rising automatically. Her voice sounded calm to her own ears, which felt like a small miracle.
“There is no need to stand,” Wilhelm said at once. “You may remain seated.”
She hesitated only a fraction of a second before obeying, lowering herself back into the chair and folding her hands carefully in her lap, as though the simple act of stillness might keep them from betraying her. Across from her, Tessa continued to swing her legs beneath the desk, the movement restless and uncharacteristically uneven, as though she sensed the shift in the room without yet understanding its cause.
Wilhelm cleared his throat, and it drew both their attention at once. “I have an announcement,” he said.
Tessa’s head snapped up, her eyes widening with immediate curiosity as she leaned forward on her elbows. “An announcement?”
“Yes,” Wilhelm replied, his gaze resting on his daughter as though anchoring himself there. “I will be hosting a ball.”
Madeline’s breath caught sharply in her chest. Her pulse leapt so suddenly she had to press her tongue to the roof of her mouth to calm herself, and for a heartbeat she was aware only of the sound of her own blood rushing in her ears.
“In this house,” Wilhelm continued, his voice even as though he were discussing nothing more than the weather. “In three days’ time. And you shall both attend.”
Tessa stared at him, utterly still now, as if she were unsure whether she had heard correctly. “Me?”
“Yes,” he said without hesitation.
The surprise that had frozen her expression melted almost instantly into something bright and unguarded. Her entire body seemed to lift with excitement as she pushed back from the desk. “A real ball?” she asked, already half-rising from her seat. “With music and dancing?”
“With music,” Wilhelm said, the faintest tightening at the corner of his mouth suggesting both indulgence and restraint, “and dancing.”
Madeline felt as though the room had tipped subtly off its axis. It was as though the solid ground beneath her chair had shifted without warning and she had to fight the instinct to brace herself against the desk. The implications unfurled all at once, swift and merciless, and her throat went dry.
She forced herself to speak before the silence stretched into something conspicuous, lifting her chin slightly even as her fingers tightened together in her lap. “Your Grace,” she said carefully, keeping her tone even despite the quickened beat of her heart, “may I ask what role you envision for me during the event?”
Wilhelm’s gaze shifted to her fully then, and the weight of his attention settled on her with such heat that a shiver traced its way down her spine before she could stop it. For a moment, he said nothing at all, his expression unreadable, as though he were measuring not just her words but her composure, her resolve, and her willingness to remain exactly where she was.
“You will attend,” he said at last. The words were simple, unembellished, and utterly unavoidable. “To keep an eye on Tessa. Large gatherings can be… overwhelming.”
Madeline swallowed. Of course he would frame it as practical, sensible.
“I see,” she said, though her pulse refused to slow. “If you believe my presence is necessary.”
“I do.” The certainty in his tone made her stomach dip in a way that had nothing to do with propriety.
She tried, desperately, to summon an objection that would sound reasonable. An excuse that would not draw suspicion. Could she plead illness? No—she would not risk leaving Tessa without her support at such an event. Could she claim a prior obligation? To what, exactly? The walls of the house?
Her mind scrambled, but every path led back to the fact that she would be there.
