The boy sniffed, nodding, and held out a scraped hand. Adelaide watched as Cassian examined it with care before drawing a clean handkerchief from his pocket. He dabbed at the blood, all while speaking calmly.
“It looks worse than it is,” he explained. “Gravel is very dramatic that way. You need not cry so.”
Adelaide’s eyebrows flew up in astonishment. This was not the careful politeness her husband showed the ton, the persona he had crafted. This was something warmer, instinctive. When he asked the boy where his family was and listened patiently for the answer, she felt something shift inside her.
They had not properly discussed having children, but if that was the sort of father he would be, then she would not have been at all opposed to it.
A woman appeared at the far end of the path, breathless and pale with worry. Cassian rose at once, guiding the child gently toward her.
“He fell,” he said simply. “Fear not, it is nothing serious, and we have cleaned the cut.”
“Your Grace!” she gasped. “Thank you, I—oh, William, are you all right?”
They spoke for a moment, before the woman ushered the boy away. Cassian watched until they were well clear, then returned to the bench as though nothing had happened.
“You were very kind,” Adelaide said, unable to keep the admiration from her voice.
He seemed faintly surprised by the compliment, and she wondered why.
“It was nothing,” he replied. “One does what one can to help.”
She nodded, though the words felt insufficient. What she had seen wasnotnothing. He had helped a frightened young boy because it was his instinct, as there was no glory in helping when there was nobody to see it.
The man beside her seemed suddenly larger, more substantial than she had understood him to be.
As he sat down again, their arms brushed, not by accident this time, and neither of them moved away. Adelaide did not know whether he noticed. She only knew that her admiration for him had grown.
She hesitated only a moment before speaking, afraid that if she did not say it at once, the feeling would slip away again.
“You are good at helping people,” she said. “It seems to come naturally to you.”
Cassian looked at her, and the change was subtle but unmistakable. The ease that had been there moments ago vanished, and he straightened, his expression smoothing into something polite and unreadable.
“I simply did what was required.” He shrugged. “There is no particular skill in that.”
Adelaide faltered. She searched his face for the man who had knelt on the gravel without hesitation, who had spoken so gently to a frightened child, but he was gone.
“Even so,” she tried again, “it wasnotnothing to that family.”
Cassian did not say anything in response. He glanced toward the sky, as though checking the hour, then reached for the basket.
“We should return,” he declared. “It’s late afternoon, and you will want to change before dinner.”
The words were sensible. They always were.
He rose and offered his hand to help her up, a gesture so correct it might have been rehearsed. Adelaide took it, feeling the distance reassert itself at once. His grip was light, impersonal, and once she was standing, he released her.
They walked back in near silence. Cassian kept his usual pace, no longer adjusting it to hers, speaking only when she spoke first. She replayed the moment again and again, trying to understand what she had done wrong.
Had she said too much? Had she expressed her admiration too plainly?
The park receded behind them, the bench and the quiet left untouched as though they had imagined it all. By the time the house came into view, Cassian had reverted to his usual demeanor: firm, cool, and entirely removed.
They reached the hall, where Adelaide stopped so abruptly that Cassian took two steps more before realizing she was no longer beside him.
“Cassian.”
He turned, impatience flickering briefly in his eyes. “What is it?”
