Noah was standing at the window with his back to her, hands clasped behind him, watching the dark.
He’d changed out of the clothes she saw him in at lunch. Or maybe she just hadn’t noticed before that his shirt lacked a cravat, the collar open at the throat, and his sleeves pushed up to his forearms.
She knocked on the open door anyway.
He turned. “Ye came.”
“Ye asked.” Ava stepped inside, clutching the primer she’d brought as evidence. She’d decided on the way down threecorridors and two staircases that having something to hold would help. “Ye said we would speak about Esther within the week. It’s been...” She calculated. “Eight days.”
“I was givin’ ye time.”
“For what?”
He looked at her steadily. “To be ready.”
The room was warm. The fire burned brightly, with two chairs pulled up to the hearth and a low table between them, holding a tray, two cups, a small pot, and some shortbread that had not been placed there for any official reason.
She looked at it, then at him.
“Sit,” he said. “Please.”
She sat. He took the other chair, leisurely, and poured both cups without asking, like someone who had already decided how the evening would unfold and was simply carrying it out.
“How is she?” he said. “Honestly.”
“Better than ye ken.” Ava set the primer on her knees. “Much better. She’s been workin’ every day. Letters first, then sounds, then words. She can read a full sentence now. On her own, start to finish, without me helpin’.”
Something flickered across his face. Carefully controlled, yet visible.
“She can read,” he said.
“Two sentences without stoppin’.” Ava watched him process it. “She’s quick, Noah. Quicker than she thinks she is. It’s nae a matter of ability, it never was.”
“It was William,” he said flatly. Not a question.
“Aye.” She kept her voice even. “When a child’s been punished for gettin’ things wrong, they stop tryin’. Why would ye risk it? But Esther’s startin’ to trust that wrong isnae the end of the world.” She paused. “She trusts that I willnae lose patience with her.”
“And the stutter?”
Ava looked at him directly. “It’s there. It may always be. But it’s less when she’s calm, less when she feels safe.” She let that sink in. “She’s ashamed of it.”
Noah’s jaw tightened. “She shouldnae be.”
“Nay, she shouldnae. And I’ve told her so.” Ava leaned forward slightly. “She’s frightened of ye hearin’ it. Of readin’ in front of ye and havin’ it come out wrong.”
The tightening in his face shifted into something more complicated. “She thinks I’d punish her?”
“She doesnae think ye’d punish her. Nae the way William did.” Ava chose her words with care. “She thinks she’ll disappoint ye. That’s different, and in some ways it’s harder to fix.” She held his gaze. “She wants to be good enough for ye. She’s been wantin’ that since she arrived, I’d wager. And she cannae quite believe she already is.”
The silence had a different quality to it, not uncomfortable, just full. Noah looked at the fire.
“I havenae been...” He stopped. His thumb moved against his cup. “I daenae always ken how to show her.”
“I ken,” Ava said gently, not to cut him off but to spare him the rest. “She kens too. She just needs to hear it sometimes, nae only see it.” A beat. “She’s asked for more practice before she reads in front of ye. I told her she could have as much as she needed.”
“Good.” He nodded once. “That was right.”
“I’ll let ye ken when she’s ready.” Ava reached for her cup.
