“Thank you,” I said softly, coming to his side.
“For the kitten?” he asked.
“For understanding what matters.”
His gaze met mine, steady and sure. “I don’t intend to forget.”
As the party wound down, Petunia curled up in a chair, kitten asleep against her chest, utterly content.
I stood at the edge of the room, taking it all in. The warmth. The laughter. The fragile, precious normalcy of it all took my breath away.
Steele and I had stared into something dark and terrible.
And yet here was proof that light still found its way through.
For now, it was enough.
Chapter
Thirty-Six
A Dangerous Indulgence
The last of the children had been claimed at last, gathered up by nannies and caretakers with brisk efficiency. Their small voices faded down the hall and out into the square, leaving Rosehaven House oddly hushed after so much brightness.
May light still poured through the tall windows. The day lingered as though it had no intention of yielding to evening just yet.
Petunia clutched her kitten to her chest like a treasure, her cheeks pink with joy.
“I shall show her my bedchamber,” she announced to no one in particular. “She has never seen a proper one before.”
My gift to her was her very own bedchamber. She would no longer sleep in the nursery. In the coming months, I would help her select her furnishings. I had no doubt felines would feature prominently—upon the walls, the coverlet, and very likely everywhere else.
“You will need to arrange a proper bed for your kitten,” Laurel murmured.
Petunia shot her a look of grave disapproval. “She shall sleep on my pillow, next to me.” The kitten flicked its tail as if it agreed.
One by one, the rest of my family drifted away, Holly and Ivy whispering like conspirators, Chrissie toward the music room, Laurel toward the library and the peace it afforded, Fox close at her side.
Honeycutt and Mrs. Bateman had already begun directing the servants to restore the ballroom to order, the remnants of Petunia’s birthday feast swept away as though it had never happened at all.
Cosmos lingered only a moment longer. “I’d best be off. I have an appointment.”
“Shall we expect you for supper?” I inquired. One never knew with Cosmos.
“No. I won’t return until late.”
Awareness sparked. “Give Claire my regards.”
He muttered something under his breath and took his leave, his footsteps brisk as he crossed the room.
I watched him go with the faintest smile, then turned back toward the ballroom.
Toward Steele.
He stood near the far window, the late sun catching the edge of his hair. He looked composed, perfectly controlled, as though he had not spent part of the afternoon watching me with an intensity that made it difficult to breathe.
He turned, his gaze finding mine at once. “I should go.”
