But not at ease.
The boys, meanwhile, had taken to each other instantly. Julian’s laughter rang out, bright and unguarded, as they chased one another between chairs.
It had been a long time since he’d had a friend visit.
Edward’s expression softened at the sight.
Lady Victoria noticed it, too.
“Perhaps we might take a promenade,” she suggested gently. “The park is lovely this time of year, and the boys have energy enough to outrun the servants.”
Julian gasped. “Please?”
Arthur echoed the plea with equal enthusiasm.
Edward hesitated only a fraction of a second. “Very well,” he said. “A short walk.”
Charlotte felt it then—fully, unmistakably.
This was how it would happen.
A lady from his world. A son who fit seamlessly beside Julian. Walks in parks. Shared visits. An arrangement that required no defiance of society, no secret investigations, no whispered confessions in dimly lit rooms.
Her chest tightened, but she kept her smile fixed in place.
“I shall fetch cloaks for the boys,” she offered.
Edward’s gaze flicked to her again, as though he sensed something beneath her composure. But whatever he saw there, he did not name.
Charlotte turned toward the corridor, pulse steadying through sheer force of will.
She had allowed herself one night of foolish hope.
That was all.
As she gathered Julian’s coat, she understood with painful clarity that she would never be the duchess of Ashford. She would never stand beside Edward as Lady Victoria now did, welcomed without question.
Her role was to teach. To guide. To love quietly and from a distance.
Resignation settled over her like a cloak.
And yet, as she returned to the drawing room and met Edward’s eyes once more—saw the way his attention lingered on herdespite everything—hope flickered stubbornly, traitorous and bright.
The boys were already racing toward the door, excitement spilling ahead of them.
Lady Victoria smiled serenely.
Edward offered his arm with practiced formality.
Charlotte followed a step behind, heart caught between what was proper … and what she could not stop wanting.
***
The promenade began pleasantly enough.
Edward and Lady Victoria walked ahead, their pace synchronized, their conversation easy in the way shared experience often is.
Charlotte could hear fragments drift back on the breeze—mentions of sleepless nights, of tutors and temperaments, of the peculiar loneliness that settled over large houses once children were abed.
