Adelaide looked away, toward the garden. It was true, but she struggled to believe it all the same.
“I am afraid of believing in something that was never meant to remain.”
Cecilia softened in a way Adelaide had never seen. “What you are seeing now is not performance. Men, after all, are very poor at sustaining those.”
Adelaide could not help but smile. No matter how much time had passed, her friend held steadfast in her beliefs.
“You speak with confidence.”
“I speak withexperience,” Cecilia emphasized. “Leonard did not change at once. He changed because he was allowed to.”
Adelaide straightened. That was what she had been trying to do, and she had always hoped that it would make a difference.
“I do not wish to press him.”
“And you should not,” Cecilia agreed. “But do not disappear either. As long as he knows you are there, that is all he needs.”
“That is more difficult than it sounds.”
“It is, but the difficult things usually are the ones worth doing.”
A pause followed, companionable and quiet.
From somewhere nearby, Adelaide could hear voices, and it unsettled her slightly, as though she were being overheard.
“I want to trust him,” she said finally.
“Then begin there. Trust that wanting first.” Cecilia reached out and squeezed her hand.
Adelaide returned the gesture, her grip light but resolute.
As she rose to leave, she felt no sudden certainty, no grand reassurance. But she felt steadier. And for now, that was enough.
The time came for her friends to leave more quickly than she had expected.
The Duchesses and their husbands gathered in the hall, their departure underway. Adelaide lingered near the staircase, adjusting the folds of her dress and observing the scene. She felt a strange tug of longing, an ache at the fact that their voices would soon vanish from her home.
She noted the small, intimate exchanges: the slight squeeze of a hand, the murmured instructions, the small smiles shared between husband and wife that said more than words could convey. In comparison, her own distance from Cassian felt larger.
One by one, she moved toward each couple.
She inclined her head to Emma, offering a warm smile. “It has been a pleasure,” she said softly.
“The pleasure has been ours,” Emma replied, her tone sincere.
Dorothy nodded to Adelaide, her eyes bright. “You have been most gracious. We shall be back before you know it.”
The carriages waited, and the last of the luggage was loaded. One by one, the couples stepped toward the doors. Adelaide followed them to the hall. She felt the hum of the house fade in their absence, the space suddenly larger and quieter than it had been before.
Finally, the carriage doors closed, the wheels rolling along the drive. Adelaide stood in the hall for a long moment, listening to the fading sounds.
The house had returned to its stillness, and with it came a strange mix of relief and emptiness.
She thought of Cassian, who was somewhere nearby, silent and reserved as ever. She did not speak to him yet. Instead, she let her eyes follow the empty drive, tracing the path her friends had taken, and wondered if the ease and laughter that had filled the rooms could ever return, or if it had been a fleeting, perfect thing.
Cassian appeared then from the direction of the library. He carried himself with that same measured composure he hadalways shown, but now there was something softer in him, something deliberate.
Adelaide felt a small, unfamiliar flutter in her chest.
