He dressed quickly, methodically, fastening his cravat with fingers that did not move with their usual precision as his mind raced ahead through practicalities. She could not have gone far. She would have tried to avoid being noticed. She would probably seek lodging at a modest inn where questions were few and memories unreliable. She would choose invisibility if it were offered to her.
He intended to deny her that.
He was bending to pull on his boots when a soft knock sounded at the door. Wilhelm froze.
“Papa?” Tessa’s voice came through the wood, small and tentative, and something in his chest tightened painfully as he straightened at once.
He closed his eyes briefly, gathering himself, smoothing the fury into something she would not see.
“Yes love,” he called, his voice already gentler as he crossed the room and opened the door.
Tessa stood in the corridor, fully dressed, her curls still slightly mussed from sleep, clutching her doll against her chest. Her eyes lifted to his face immediately, searching.
“Is Miss Watton awake?” she asked. “She didn’t come to wake me.”
The question almost threw him off again.
Wilhelm crouched in front of her without thinking, bringing himself level with her, his hands settling on her small shoulders. “She had to go out early this morning,” he said carefully. “She left me a note.”
Tessa’s mouth trembled. “Did she leave us?”
“No,” he said at once, more firmly than he had intended. He gentled his tone, cupping her cheek with one hand. “She has not abandoned you. Not for a moment.”
Tessa blinked rapidly. “But she promised she would stay.”
“She meant it,” he said, and felt the truth of it settle deep in his bones. “Sometimes adults have to make very difficult choices, even when they do not want to.”
Tessa’s lower lip wobbled. “Did I do something wrong?”
The question tore at him.
“No,” Wilhelm said fiercely. “Never that. Madeline loves you very much. More than you know.”
“Then why did she go?” Tessa whispered.
He met her gaze steadily. “Because she believes she is protecting us,” he said. “And because she has not yet learned that she does not have to face things alone.”
Tessa considered this, her brow furrowing in a way painfully reminiscent of Madeline herself.
“You’ll bring her back?” she asked.
“Yes,” he said without hesitation. “I promise you.”
That seemed to satisfy her, if only a little. She nodded, pressing her face briefly into his shoulder before stepping back.
“Will you tell her I saved her place at breakfast?” she asked solemnly.
Wilhelm’s throat tightened. “I will.”
Once Tessa had gone, Wilhelm remained where he was for a brief moment. His hand rested against the doorframe as though he might recollect himself there. The softness he had allowed her drained from him with, replaced by a focused urgency that settled into his bones. There would be time later for fear, for doubt, for the full weight of what Madeline’s absence meant. Now, there was only action.
He moved quickly through the corridors, scarcely aware of the servants he passed or the murmured greetings he ignored. His stride was long and purposeful as he crossed the house and mounted his horse without delay.
The morning air bit sharply against his face as he rode hard toward Henry’s estate. The rhythm of hooves striking the road matched the relentless churn of his thoughts. Madeline would be frightened, careful, already measuring every choice she made against the danger she believed herself to be. The knowledge tightened something fierce and unyielding in his chest. He would not allow her to disappear again, not into fear, not into isolation, and certainly not into the reach of the woman who was trying to destroy her.
Henry’s expression shifted the moment Wilhelm entered his study, coat still half-fastened, his eyes dark and unyielding.
“She’s gone,” Wilhelm said the moment he crossed the threshold, the words coming out too fast, as though they had been burning in his chest the entire ride.
