“Yes?”
“I miss Mama.”
The words landed without warning.
Charlotte stopped, her breath catching slightly. She knelt so they were eye level, careful not to rush him.
“I know,” she said softly.
Julian stared at the ground. “It’s easier when you’re here.”
“Is it?”
He nodded. “Because you’re fun.” He hesitated, then added, in a rush, “And you’re not cross like Father.”
Charlotte chose her words with care. “Your father loves you very much, Julian. Even when he seems stern.”
Julian considered this. “He loved Mama.”
“Yes.”
“He laughed at the beach,” Julian said suddenly. “Once. He let me run into the water, even though it was cold.”
The image rose unbidden—Edward Thornton laughing, unguarded, sunlight on water—and the ache it brought surprised her.
“That sounds like a very good day,” she said.
Julian nodded solemnly. Then, with all the authority only a child could muster, he announced, “You can’t ever leave.”
Charlotte laughed. “I am not planning to.”
“You promise?”
She met his earnest gaze. “I promise.”
“Then I can call you Charlotte,” he said, pleased. “Not Miss Fenton.”
Her smile softened. “Alright.”
They were nearing the garden again when Julian slowed and tugged her sleeve.
“Look.”
Edward sat on a stone bench near the frosted hedges, sketchbook resting against his knee, his attention fixed entirely on the page.
The winter light caught in his hair and along the edge of his coat, softening him in a way Charlotte had never seen. His posturewas unguarded—shoulders eased, head bent slightly, expression almost … peaceful.
He was smiling.
Not the restrained curve she had seen before, careful and fleeting, but something unselfconscious, as though he had forgotten himself entirely.
The sight struck her with unwelcome force. He looked younger like this. Handsome in a way she had not allowed herself to consider—despite the severity of his features, despite the scar that cut through his brow. Or perhaps because of it.
Charlotte felt the awareness flare and recoiled from it at once, irritated with herself. This was foolishness. He was her employer. A grieving husband. A man entirely unsuited to such thoughts.
And yet she could not quite look away.
Julian leaned close and whispered, “He only smiles when no one’s looking.”
