“Yes,” Clara confirmed. “And he has brought a ball.”
That was enough to send him racing down the corridor ahead of them.
Charlotte followed more slowly.
The drawing room was already alive with movement. Sunlight spilled across polished floors, catching on silk, laughter, and the bright ribbon in Lady Victoria’s hat.
She was as Clara had described—graceful, composed, dressed in soft shades that complemented her fair complexion. A proper lady. The sort who belonged in rooms like this without effort.
Edward stood opposite her, posture formal, expression measured. He inclined his head in greeting as Charlotte entered.
“Miss Fenton,” he acknowledged.
The title was correct. Necessary.
It felt like a blade.
“Miss Fenton,” Lady Victoria said, offering a composed smile. “You have been a great comfort to his grace’s household.”
Comforttothe household. Notpartof it.
“I care for Julian very much,” she said, and left it there.
Victoria’s son had already found Julian, the two boys whispering conspiratorially before bursting into laughter. The sight should have pleased her.
Instead, she felt herself retreat.
She watched Edward exchange polite conversation with Victoria. Watched the ease with which she stood at his side. Watched the natural symmetry of them—the duke and the lady,aligned by rank, by expectation, by a world that would never question their proximity.
This was what made sense.
Not late-night confessions in studies. Not almost-kisses by firelight.
She became acutely aware of her place—standing slightly behind, slightly apart. A governess. Useful. Respected, perhaps. But never equal. Never intended.
Jealousy rose before she could stop it. Sharp. Unwelcome.
She hated it.
Lady Victoria laughed softly at something Edward said, and Charlotte’s stomach tightened. It was not a flirtatious laugh. It was kind. Sincere. She seemed, in truth, a good woman.
That only made it worse.
Edward shifted then—subtle, almost imperceptible—and his gaze found Charlotte’s across the room.
The look was fleeting, but it was not indifferent.
There was tension in it. Awareness.
He looked away first.
The air felt too thin.
Lady Victoria clasped her hands lightly. “I was visiting friends nearby and thought it shameful not to call. It has been too long since the boys saw one another.”
“You are most welcome,” Edward replied, tone courteous but faintly strained.
Charlotte noticed it now—that faint discomfort in him whenever Victoria addressed him directly, whenever their conversation edged toward the personal. He was polite. Attentive.
