They looked well-matched from a distance.
Appropriate. Balanced.
Charlotte walked a few paces behind with Julian and Arthur, their laughter bright as they darted between the trees. Lady Victoria’s maid kept near enough to maintain propriety without intruding.
Charlotte told herself she should be grateful. The boys were happy. Edward looked … comfortable.
And yet.
Every time Lady Victoria inclined her head toward him, every time her gloved hand brushed his sleeve in polite emphasis, something sharp coiled low in Charlotte’s chest.
She kept her eyes on Julian. She kept her expression serene.
Then she heard her name.
“… Miss Fenton has been invaluable,” Edward was saying, his voice carrying just enough to reach her. “I do not know how we managed without her. Julian thrives under her care.”
Charlotte’s steps faltered.
Lady Victoria replied warmly, something about how fortunate Ashford was.
Edward continued, “Iam fortunate.”
The words were simple. They landed heavily.
Charlotte looked up despite herself.
Edward had turned slightly, as though aware she might hear. Their eyes met across the small distance—briefly, unintentionally, undeniably.
There was no impropriety in the glance.
And yet it lingered a fraction too long.
Lady Victoria saw it. Charlotte knew she did.
The widow’s smile did not falter, but something sharpened behind it—calculation, perhaps. Or understanding.
Charlotte dropped her gaze at once, heat rising to her cheeks. Gratitude warred with humiliation. To be praised publicly was an honor.
To be praised as though she were an asset—while walking behind the woman who might replace her in that household—was something else entirely.
Before she could sort the feeling, another voice cut through the air.
“Well. What a delightful coincidence.”
Lady Amelia.
She approached with two other ladies in her wake, silks whispering against the gravel path. Her smile was immaculate. Her eyes were not.
She took in the tableau in an instant—Edward at Lady Victoria’s side, Charlotte behind them, the children weaving between.
Her gaze settled first on Victoria. Polite. Measuring.
Then it flicked to Charlotte. And lingered.
“Your Grace,” Amelia said smoothly. “Lady Victoria. How unexpected.”
Introductions were made again for the benefit of her companions. Compliments exchanged. Observations about the fine weather.
