Warmth flooded her as she felt the solid line of him beneath her cheek.
Realization struck almost immediately.
She pulled back at once, color rushing to her face. “Forgive me. I should not have—”
“There is nothing to forgive,” he said gently.
His voice had changed again. Lower. Softer.
Something in her chest fluttered alarmingly. To steady herself, she looked down at the drawing once more. “You are very talented.”
He exhaled faintly, almost amused. “It is not talent. Merely habit.”
“You have done it long?”
“All my life,” he said. “It quiets the mind. When thoughts refuse to cooperate.”
Her gaze lifted to his. “You have had many thoughts to quiet of late?”
A pause. “Yes.”
She hesitated, then ventured carefully, “Because of Lord Armitage?”
A flicker crossed his expression—so brief she nearly missed it.
“Something like that,” he replied.
The answer was vague. Intentionally so.
She felt it. The unspoken portion. The piece he withheld.
“You need not concern yourself with him,” he added. “I will see to it.”
Her spine straightened slightly. “See to it how?”
His jaw tightened—not in anger, but in restraint. “There are matters I am addressing. Quietly.”
“You have discovered something.”
He did not answer immediately.
“I have things to tell you,” he said at last. “But not yet. I would not alarm you without cause.”
Her heart gave an uneasy beat. “You are already alarming me.”
His gaze softened, though tension remained at its edges. “Trust me.”
She wanted to. More than was prudent.
Before she could press further, the door opened abruptly, and a footman stepped inside, pale and hesitant.
“Your Grace,” he said, bowing stiffly. “Forgive the intrusion. Lord William has arrived.”
The words struck the air like a dropped blade.
Charlotte felt the warmth of the fire vanish from her skin.
Edward’s expression hardened instantly, the softness of moments ago shuttered behind composure.
