The certainty came with unwelcome clarity. He had seen Julian’s shoulders slump, had felt the shift in the room as joy curdled into compliance. He had done that. Again.
Played the villain.
He pressed his palm flat against the window, breath fogging the glass.
This was not the father he had intended to be.
Nor, he suspected, the man Eleanor would have wanted him to become.
A sudden movement behind made him stiffen.
“Good God, Edward, must you stalk your own house like an aggrieved specter?”
Edward turned sharply.
Christopher leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, expression equal parts amusement and concern. He hadremoved his coat, cravat loosened, his presence entirely too casual for Edward’s current state of mind.
“How did you—” Edward stopped himself and exhaled sharply. “Never mind.”
Christopher stepped fully into the room and shut the door behind him. “I heard you were in here terrifying the furniture.”
Edward scoffed. “If you’ve come to mock me—again—I’m not in the mood.”
“I came to see whether you’d survived the night,” Christopher said lightly. “You were still at your desk when I left, and I rather suspected you’d declare war on a bookcase before dawn.”
Edward turned away. “Leave it.”
Christopher didn’t. He crossed the room and stopped a few paces off, expression sharpening. “What happened?”
Edward hesitated.
Then, to his own surprise, the words spilled out.
“The pianoforte,” he said flatly. “They were playing it. Laughing.”
Christopher blinked. “And?”
“And I stopped it,” Edward snapped. “Because it was not on the schedule. Because order matters.” His voice faltered, just slightly. “Because I did not recognize the sound until it was too late.”
Christopher studied him carefully. “You miss it.”
Edward did not answer at once.
“Yes,” he said finally. “I miss it.”
Silence settled between them.
“And Julian?” Christopher prompted.
Edward’s throat tightened. “I cannot remember the last time he laughed with me.”
The admission felt like a wound opened to air.
Christopher’s expression softened. “That does not mean you’ve failed him.”
“It feels like it does.”
Edward turned back toward the window. “Thomas would have known what to do. Eleanor would have—” His voice broke off. “They would have done this right.”
