“Yes.” He shifted his weight, the movement subtle but telling. “We encountered her today, as you saw. She is… someone I have considered.”
The fire popped softly.
Madeline folded her hands in her lap and forced herself to look at him properly now, to meet his gaze with the calm professionalism she had been clinging to for days.
“She seemed very kind,” she said, choosing honesty without indulgence. “Especially with Tessa.”
Wilhelm nodded once, as though confirming something he already knew. “She was.”
“She did not stare,” Madeline added quietly. As she spoke, her fingers clasped together in her lap, knuckles whitening before she forced them to relax. “She spoke to her as a child, not as a… circumstance.”
Wilhelm’s jaw shifted at that, a muscle jumping once near his temple. His gaze dropped briefly to the floor between them, then lifted again, darker now as though the words had struck something already raw. He said nothing, but his shoulders drew back a fraction, his spine straightening with a restrained, defensive tension that told her he had understood exactly what she meant.
“Tessa liked her,” Madeline continued, her voice softening despite her effort to keep it neutral. She tipped her head slightly, a gesture that was almost protective even in memory. “That is no small thing.”
“No,” he said after a beat. His voice was calm, but his breath left him more slowly than before, as though the agreement cost him something. “It is not.”
He moved then, finally, crossing the small distance to the chair opposite her. He did not settle into it fully, perching instead on the edge. His weight pitched forward and his elbows briefly braced against his thighs before he straightened again. His hands clasped together loosely. The long fingers flexed once, twice, betraying an agitation he immediately forced back under control.
“That is why I wished to speak with you,” he said, lifting his eyes to hers at last. They held there, intent and unguarded for a long second. “Not only about Lady Catherine,” he added, his mouth tightening slightly at the name, “but about… us.”
The word landed like a dropped glass.
Madeline’s pulse jumped, a sudden, unwanted rush of heat flaring low in her body before she smothered it ruthlessly. She kept her face straight, her breathing even, even as every instinct screamed at her to flee.
“I owe you an apology,” Wilhelm continued, his voice measured, stripped of command and reduced to something disarmingly sincere. “For the garden. For placing you in a position that was… inappropriate. And potentially unsafe.”
The word twisted inside her chest, because it was so far from how she had felt in his arms, and yet so painfully accurate in a different way.
“I never intended,” he went on, “to compromise your position in this household, or to make you feel you could not rely upon myrestraint. You are important to Tessa. To the household. And I will not be the cause of your discomfort.”
Madeline’s throat dried up. She lowered her gaze, because if she looked at him now, she feared the truth would show too plainly in her eyes, the guilt and longing and terrible, selfish relief at his careful distance.
“Thank you,” she said quietly, the words inadequate and painfully sincere all at once. “For saying that.”
He inclined his head, accepting the gratitude as though it were a formality, though the tension in his jaw suggested it cost him more than he wished to admit.
“I am seeking a wife,” Wilhelm said plainly. “Not out of sentiment, but out of necessity. Tessa deserves stability. A woman who can stand beside her openly, who will not be questioned or dismissed.”
Madeline nodded, though the motion felt mechanical. “Of course.”
“I wished to ensure,” he continued, “that you understood my intentions clearly. That nothing… personal would interfere with your role here.”
The words were gentlemanly. Everything she had once thought she wanted from him, and yet, they hurt more than she had been prepared for.
“I understand,” Madeline said, forcing steadiness into her voice. “And I appreciate your consideration.”
Silence fell again, heavier now.
Wilhelm rose abruptly, as though he could not remain seated any longer, and moved toward the window, his back to her for a moment, his shoulders broad and unyielding in the firelight. Madeline watched him, the familiar ache blooming in her chest at the sight of him like this, contained and alone, and she wondered, not for the first time, whether anyone had ever truly stood beside him rather than behind or beneath him.
“You are an exceptional governess,” he said without turning. “And I wish for you to remain in Tessa’s life. I will not complicate matters further.”
Madeline swallowed. “Nor will I.”
It was a promise and a lie wrapped together so tightly she could no longer tell them apart.
When she rose to leave, the movement felt abrupt, as though she was tearing herself out of something fragile and unfinished. The chair scraped softly against the floor. She smoothed her skirts once, then again, the familiar ritual grounding her hands even as her pulse skidded beneath her ribs. She inclined her head in the correct, careful manner, every line of her posture returning to propriety by force rather than ease and turned toward the door.
