Now the fire in the sitting room burned low and steady, the earlier laughter softened into memory.
Charlotte stood near the hearth, palms out toward the warmth. She felt light and heavy all at once—lifted by the joy of the day, weighed by the fragile knowledge that such joy could not last forever.
“I did not thank you,” Edward said quietly from behind her.
She turned. “For what?”
“For refusing to allow me to retreat.”
Her breath caught slightly. “You would have come around.”
“Would I?” he asked, almost to himself.
The fire snapped between them.
He stepped closer—not too close, never improperly so—but near enough that she could feel the gravity of him.
“There is something,” he said, clearing his throat once, as though bracing himself.
From the small table beside the mantel, he lifted a parcel she had not noticed before. It was wrapped in dark fabric—fine, almost velvet to the touch—and tied with simple twine.
“For you,” he said.
Her brows drew together. “For me?”
He gave a small nod. “It seemed … appropriate.”
She accepted it slowly, acutely aware of how careful he was not to brush her fingers this time.
The fabric loosened easily beneath her hands. Inside lay a folded sheet of thick paper.
When she opened it, her breath left her entirely.
It was her. And Julian.
Seated side by side at the pianoforte.
Julian’s expression—earnest, intent. Her posture angled slightly toward him, guiding, steadying. The curve of her mouth caught mid-smile. The firelight behind them rendered in delicate strokes.
It was not a casual sketch.
It was attentive. Tender.
She pressed her fingers to her lips, tears blurring the lines of charcoal before her.
“You drew this tonight?” she whispered.
Edward shifted faintly, almost uncomfortable beneath the weight of her reaction. “Earlier. While you were arranging flowers.”
She swallowed hard. “It is the most thoughtful gift I have ever received.”
The words escaped before she could measure them.
Emotion rose too quickly—gratitude, wonder, something softer and more perilous. Before she could stop herself, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him.
It was not a calculated gesture. It was instinctive.
He went still in her embrace—surprised—but not resistant.
