Christopher did not hesitate. He hurried toward the fountain where Julian stood bewildered among the murmuring guests.
Edward did not look back at William. He did not look at Lady Amelia. He kept his gaze forward and guided Charlotte through the parted crowd, the weight of gossip pressing against his shoulders like a physical force.
Julian hurried toward them moments later with Christopher close behind him.
“Papa?” Julian asked, confusion tightening his small voice. “What happened?”
“Nothing that concerns you,” Edward said evenly. “We are leaving.”
Charlotte kept her eyes lowered, and they departed without another word.
The carriage ride was silent but for the steady rhythm of wheels over gravel.
Julian sat between them, small and rigid, sensing what he could not understand. Edward’s gloved hands rested on his knees. Charlotte turned toward the window, tears slipping soundlessly down her face as the darkness blurred beyond the glass.
Julian noticed first.
“Miss Fenton?” he asked softly. “Are you crying?”
She tried to answer but could not.
Edward spoke before she was forced to do so.
“She is unwell,” he said, his tone calm but edged with steel. “The air did not agree with her.”
Julian frowned. “Is it because of that man?”
Edward’s jaw tightened.
“It is not your concern,” he said evenly when Julian looked between them again. “You are safe.”
Julian hesitated, sensing more than he understood, but he nodded and fell silent.
The remainder of the journey passed without further words.
Charlotte did not sob. She did not reach for him. She sat turned toward the darkened window, tears slipping soundlessly down her face as the carriage rolled through the night. Julian watched her once or twice, then folded into himself, small hands clenched in his lap.
Edward remained still, fury and calculation warring beneath his composure.
When Ashford’s gates finally came into view, relief did not come with them. Only resolve.
The carriage stopped.
Edward stepped down first, then turned and assisted Julian. Charlotte followed last, pale beneath the lantern light.
Inside the hall, Edward crouched slightly to meet his son’s eyes.
“Go on,” he said gently. “Find Mrs. Channing. Tell her I wish you settled for bed at once.”
Julian glanced at Charlotte. “Is she coming?”
“In a moment,” Edward replied.
Julian hesitated—only briefly—then obeyed, disappearing down the corridor.
The front doors closed, and silence settled around them.
Only then did Charlotte break. She stepped toward Edward suddenly, as though whatever restraint had held her together inside the carriage had snapped.
