“There will be no emotional expectations,” he said. “I am not seeking a surrogate mother for this child, nor a companion for myself. You are here to serve a function. When that function is no longer needed—or when the arrangement becomes untenable for any reason—you will leave. Without argument. Without appeal.” His grey eyes bored into hers. “Is that clear?”
Without argument. Without appeal.
Like a servant. Like someone whose presence was tolerated rather than wanted.
Maribel felt the humiliation of it settle into her bones. Every word he spoke reminded her of her position—dependent, precarious, subject to the whims of a man who viewed her as an inconvenience to be managed.
But Oliver’s face rose in her mind. Those brown eyes, so like Margaret’s. That desperate whisper:you came, you came.
She could endure this. For him, she could endure anything.
“It is abundantly clear,” she said.
Thaddeus’s brow creased slightly. He had expected her to argue, she realised. To bristle, to negotiate, to show some sign of the temper she had displayed before.
But apparently, her silence unsettled him more than her defiance. She couldn’t bring herself to regret his discomfort. “You accept these terms?”
“I accept them.”
“All of them. Without modification.”
“Without modification.”
He stepped back, putting distance between them. His hands clasped behind his back once more, and his posture straightened into that rigid, formal bearing she was beginning to recognise as his armour.
“There is one final condition,” he said.
She waited.
“The truth of your relationship to Oliver—the fact that you are his aunt, his mother’s sister—will remain between us. The household will be told only that you are an old friend of the family, brought in to assist with the boy’s care during this difficult transition. No one else needs to know the particulars.”
Maribel frowned. “You wish me to continue the deception my sister began?”
“I wish to protect the boy from unnecessary speculation.” His voice hardened. “Your family’s disgrace may not have touched him directly, but it will if people learn of the connection. He has already lost his parents. I will not allow him to inherit their scandal as well.”
She had not expected that. Protection, offered in the guise of a command. A kindness wrapped in coldness.
“Very well,” she said quietly. “I will say nothing.”
Thaddeus nodded once. “Then we have an agreement.”
The words should have brought relief. Instead, Maribel felt hollow—the sense of having gained entry to a fortress while knowing the walls would remain firmly in place.
A sound at the doorway made them both turn.
Oliver stood at the threshold, his nightshirt rumpled, his dark hair falling across his forehead. The wooden dot was clutchedagainst his chest, and his bare feet were pale against the dark carpet. His brown eyes moved from Maribel to Thaddeus, then back again.
“You were being loud,” he said, his voice trembling. “Are you fighting?”
Neither adult spoke. The fire crackled in the grate. Outside, a bird called from somewhere in the gardens.
Maribel moved first, crossing the room and kneeling before him. “We were having a discussion,” she said gently. “Grown-ups sometimes speak loudly when they are trying to work something out. It does not mean we are angry.”
Oliver’s gaze remained fixed on her face. His lower lip trembled.
“Mrs. Allen said you might have to leave.”
“I am not leaving.”
