Edward met her eyes for a brief moment. Something unreadable passed between them—acknowledgment, perhaps. Or challenge.
She did not look away.
Then she turned, leading Julian toward the entrance, Clara Bennet and another maid falling into step beside them.
Edward noticed, distantly, Christopher’s gaze following Clara for a moment longer than courtesy required. He said nothing.
Instead, he offered Lady Amelia his arm and followed her toward the gardens, the sound of Julian’s voice fading behind them.
The morning, Edward suspected, would not be as orderly as he had planned.
And worse—he was no longer certain he wanted it to be.
The garden lay quiet beneath a pale winter sun, trimmed hedges casting long, orderly shadows across frost-stiff grass. Edward welcomed the symmetry. It soothed something in him that the nursery—and Miss Fenton’s disruption of it—had unsettled.
Christopher, however, looked far too entertained.
“You know,” he said lightly, hands clasped behind his back as they strolled, “most men at least attempt to disguise their interest. You looked as though you might follow the governess straight out the door.”
Edward shot him a warning glance. “Mind yourself.”
Christopher only grinned. “I am. You, on the other hand, looked positively undone. Spirited women do tend to have that effect.”
Edward stopped walking. “She is my employee.”
“And very much alive,” Christopher replied cheerfully. “Which already puts her leagues ahead of those ledgers you keep such devoted company.”
“Enough,” Edward said, irritation flaring despite himself.
Lady Amelia halted as well, turning with a sharpness that cut cleanly through Christopher’s amusement. “If we are speaking of governesses,” she said coolly, “it would be wise to remember that women of low rank often mistake familiarity for opportunity.”
Edward’s brows drew together. “Miss Fenton has shown nothing but propriety.”
Amelia smiled thinly. “So they always do—until they do not. I recall a viscount not three counties away who ran off with his maid. A most unfortunate business. Bastard child. Ruined prospects. The woman thought affection might elevate her position.”
The air shifted.
Edward felt heat rise beneath his collar—not anger exactly, but discomfort sharp enough to make him want to escape it. Christopher sensed it at once.
“Yes, well,” Christopher said briskly, clapping his hands together. “Scandal does have a way of clinging to the dullest stories. Speaking of which—have you given any more thought to the season?”
Amelia brightened instantly, the chill in her voice replaced with enthusiasm. “The Winter Solstice Ball is in a week,” she said.“Everyone will attend. It would be quite the moment for your return, Edward. Two years is long enough to be absent.”
“I have no intention of attending,” Edward replied.
Christopher scoffed. “You will attend.”
Edward gave him a look.
“You need not enjoy it,” Christopher added. “Just appear. Smile once. Remind the county that you’re not a ghost.”
Amelia nodded. “There will be many eligible ladies. Widows, daughters, and cousins all very eager to make your acquaintance.”
Edward felt the old instinct to retreat rise swiftly. “My mourning is not a spectacle.”
“No,” Amelia said gently, though her eyes were intent. “But neither should it become a prison.”
Christopher leaned closer. “She’s right, you know. You can’t hide behind grief forever. Julian will notice.”
