It struck Miss Fenton squarely in the face.
Edward winced.
The sound of her surprised gasp reached him even from above. Julian whooped and bolted toward the house, laughter ringing out across the grounds.
Edward did not hesitate.
He left the study at once, descending the stairs two at a time, his stride long and furious. The foyer echoed with Julian’s footsteps as the boy skidded to a halt, turning pale when he saw his father’s expression.
“Julian.”
The single word snapped like a whip.
Julian straightened, shoulders hunched, defiance wavering. “I was only—”
“Enough.” Edward’s voice was low, controlled, far more ominous than shouting. “You will go back outside. You will apologize. At once.”
Julian’s mouth twisted. “She was smiling.”
“That is not permission.”
Mrs. Channing appeared at the door, lips pressed thin.
Edward opened the door himself and gestured sharply. “Now.”
Julian trudged past him, boots dragging.
Edward followed, stopping just inside the threshold as Julian approached Miss Fenton. She stood brushing snow from her lashes; her cheeks flushed from cold and surprise. She did not look angry. She looked startled—and patient.
Edward did not miss that.
“I’m sorry,” Julian muttered, staring at his boots.
Miss Fenton crouched slightly to meet his eye level. “That’s quite all right,” she said gently. “Thank you for saying so.”
Julian glanced at her, startled by her calm.
Edward cleared his throat. “Inside. Now.”
Julian obeyed without further protest.
Edward remained where he was, acutely aware of Miss Fenton’s presence. She straightened slowly, smoothing her skirts as though the interruption had been of no consequence. Her hair remained loose around her shoulders, catching the pale winter light.
Mrs. Channing stepped forward at once, lips pressed thin. “I did warn—”
“It will not happen again,” Edward said firmly.
Miss Fenton shook her head, the motion small but resolute. “There is no need. He meant no harm.” She paused, then added lightly, “Snow has a way of encouraging poor judgment.”
Edward said nothing. He watched her instead.
She was not flustered. Not indignant. Not eager to ingratiate herself. She treated the incident as neither insult nor ordeal—only a moment passed and finished. No governess before her had done the same.
That, more than the boy’s behavior, unsettled him.
Edward turned away, prepared to return to the house.
“Your Grace.”
