And when the laughter faded, it left behind something gentler in its place.
Hope, perhaps.
Or simply the knowledge that, for now, she was exactly where she needed to be.
Chapter 10
Edward did not speak as they entered the study.
He closed the door behind them with measured care, more from habit than intent, and crossed immediately to the desk as though drawn by gravity.
The room was as he had left it earlier—papers stacked neatly, the fire low but steady, the air faintly scented with ash and old leather. It was a familiar order, comforting in its predictability.
Christopher, on the other hand, did not move at all.
Edward sensed him lingering near the door, felt the weight of his attention like a presence at his back. He removed his coat, draped it over the back of the chair, and reached for a ledger he had no immediate intention of opening.
Only then did Christopher speak.
“You know,” he said mildly, “if you wished to admire the governess, you might have spared yourself the trouble of pretending otherwise.”
Edward did not turn. “I was not admiring.”
Christopher hummed thoughtfully. “You were certainly looking.”
Edward set the ledger down with deliberate control and straightened. “She was in the way.”
“In the way of what?”
“The stairs.”
Christopher smiled to himself. “Ah. Yes. Those notorious, distracting stairs.”
Edward turned then, fixing him with a look that had quelled battalions. “You are enjoying this.”
“Immensely,” Christopher said. “It’s been some time since you’ve provided entertainment of any kind.”
Edward crossed the room and took his seat behind the desk. “You nearly caused Miss Bennet to fall.”
“And then prevented it,” Christopher replied cheerfully, finally moving farther into the room. He dropped into the chair opposite Edward’s with the ease of a man who had never been made to feel unwelcome anywhere. “You should be thanking me.”
Edward steepled his fingers. “You were flirting.”
“I was breathing,” Christopher corrected. “She happened to be present.”
Edward’s mouth tightened. “You should conduct yourself with more care.”
Christopher’s brows lifted. “With the maid?”
“With anyone,” Edward said evenly. “You are no longer a boy. Your reputation precedes you, and you do nothing to contradict it.”
Christopher laughed quietly. “You wound me. I’d hoped my charm would be considered a public service.”
“You treat it as a pastime.”
“And you treat self-denial as a vocation,” Christopher countered.
Edward reached for his pen. “You should find something meaningful to occupy your time.”
