The words sounded measured. Reasonable. They tasted wrong all the same.
Charlotte inclined her head, every inch the composed governess. “If you will excuse us, Your Grace.”
She did not wait for his response. She simply took Julian’s hand and turned toward the house.
Edward watched them go, a weight settling low in his gut. He followed before he had quite decided on doing it.
“Charlotte,” he called softly.
She stopped just inside the terrace doors but did not turn at once. When she did, her expression was polite. Guarded.
“I did not mean to rebuke you,” Edward said. “Only to remind you that—”
“That Julian is watched,” she said evenly. “That the house must look a certain way. That grief is best kept tidy.”
Edward stiffened. “That is not—”
“You asked me to care for your son,” Charlotte said, her voice still quiet but no longer yielding. “To teach him. To guide him. Children learn through experience, Your Grace—not by remaining pristine.”
Charlotte looked at him, something shuttered but wounded flickering behind her eyes. “We were gathering flowers,” she continued, softer than before. “For the house. For his mother.”
Edward hesitated.
“The rain spoiled them,” she continued, her voice steady. “Julian wished to continue regardless.”
Julian nodded solemnly, mud streaked across his boots. “I liked the rain.”
Something twisted sharply in Edward’s chest.
Her gaze held his. Clear. Unflinching.
“And mud,” she added, “is not a failing of character.”
For a moment, Edward had no answer.
Then Amelia’s voice carried across the terrace. “Edward?”
The spell broke.
She led Julian away without another word, her hand firm around his, her back straight.
Edward stood there a moment longer, then turned.
Amelia regarded him with mild curiosity. “Order would do this house good,” she said lightly.
Before he could reply, she smiled and added, almost teasingly, “It must be distracting—to have such a pretty governess under your roof.”
Edward’s spine stiffened. “She is a remarkable governess.”
Amelia’s brows lifted a fraction. Then she laughed softly. “We shall see one another soon, then. At the gathering.”
She departed without waiting for an answer.
Edward remained where he was, staring at the path Charlotte and Julian had taken.
His earlier resolve—to be sensible, to choose what was practical—felt suddenly hollow.
And for the first time, he wondered whether the balance Amelia offered would come at a cost he was no longer willing to pay.
