“I suspected as much.”
She laughed softly. “Do not pretend you are surprised.”
“I never do.”
They moved together through the crowd, Amelia’s hand resting lightly on his sleeve—never gripping, never clinging, but always present.
She spoke of mutual acquaintances, of the season’s gatherings, of who had married and who had disappointed expectations. Edward listened, responding where courtesy required, his attention divided between her words and the subtle ways she positioned herself beside him.
Claiming him.
It was not unwelcome. Not entirely. Amelia was elegant, composed, well-suited to these spaces in ways Edward would never be. She understood the rhythms of society, the unspoken agreements, and the power of being seen and admired. There was comfort in that. Safety.
And yet—
His gaze drifted.
Lady Victoria West was seated near the far windows, her posture modest, her expression attentive rather than animated.
She wore mourning still, though softened by pale lavender rather than black. A young boy sat beside her, legs swinging as he watched the dancers with wide-eyed fascination.
Edward found himself pausing.
Amelia noticed at once.
“Ah,” she said lightly. “Lady Victoria.”
“You know her?”
“Of course. We were introduced earlier.” Her tone remained pleasant, but something tightened beneath it. “She is recently widowed.”
“As am I,” Edward replied without thinking.
Amelia glanced at him sharply, then smoothed her expression. “Yes. Of course.”
They were introduced moments later.
Lady Victoria rose, offering a small, composed smile. Her voice was gentle, her manner reserved. Conversation came easily—surprisingly so. They spoke of children first, of the strange balance between protection and letting go, of how grief reshaped even the most mundane routines.
“I often wonder,” Lady Victoria said quietly, “whether I am doing him a disservice by shielding him too much.”
Edward nodded. “I have wondered the opposite. Whether I have demanded too much resilience too soon.”
Their sons exchanged glances across the space, curiosity mirrored.
It was … easy.
Edward felt the quiet pull of possibility. Lady Victoria was kind. Thoughtful. Grounded. She understood loss without spectacle. She would be a sensible match. A gentle one. A woman who could provide Julian with stability, companionship, and care.
And yet—
His thoughts betrayed him.
Charlotte would have laughed with Julian. Would have crouched to his level, whispered some nonsense to coax a smile. Would have seen the boy first, not the expectations attached to him.
The comparison unsettled him.
Amelia, watching closely, did not miss the shift.
