I love you.
But she hadn’t. Not yet.
When she descended the stairs, the scent of warm bread and honey wafted from the hallway. The grand foyer echoed faintly with her steps until she reached the last stair—and froze.
Laughter.
Not Theo’s—though his deeper tones followed—but a lighter, more lilting sound, one she hadn’t heard in weeks. Her lips parted in surprise, and a grin curved unbidden. She turned and quickened her pace.
The morning room was filled with golden light, and at the breakfast table sat Eugenia Forest, Dowager Countess of Darnell, draped in a dove-gray shawl and sipping tea like a conquering queen.
She looked up and smiled, rising with surprising swiftness. “April, my dear girl!”
April crossed the room in a few hurried steps and was enveloped in a warm embrace, tulip-scented and familiar.
“I did not hear you arrive!” April said, stepping back.
“I arrived last night, far too late to rouse the household,” Eugenia replied, brushing imaginary crumbs from her sleeve. “But I could hardly wait to see you.”
Theo stood from his chair and moved to pull one out for her. As she took it, he leaned in and murmured, “Good morning, wife.”
April’s cheeks warmed.
“Oh, how tender,” Eugenia exclaimed. “And he smiles! Theo, you’ll ruin your reputation as a stone-hearted recluse.”
He merely lifted a brow, and Eugenia’s expression softened as she turned to April, taking her hand. “Thank you, child. Truly. I feared I’d never see him like this. He has always been my heart—but I despaired he would ever trust another with his.”
April could only smile, fingers tightening gently in the older woman’s grasp. “He makes it very easy to care for him.”
They settled into breakfast, and Eugenia praised the raspberry jam and the flakiness of the croissants until her gaze swept over the room.
“The walls!” she said suddenly. “This was not green before.”
“No,” April said, pleased. “The entire manor has been redecorated. Room by room.”
Eugenia clapped her hands. “Then I must see it. All of it. Tulip!”
The pug in question—round and perpetually unimpressed—trotted into the room with a grunt and took up residence by Eugenia’s chair.
Theo stood as Redmond entered. “Your Grace, the steward from Gloucestershire has arrived.”
Theo pressed a kiss to April’s cheek. “Enjoy your tour. I will find you after noon.”
Eugenia gave a theatrical sigh. “So many kisses. How will I bear the scandal?”
He bent and kissed her cheek as well. “Behave, Aunt.”
She winked. “Never.”
With Theo gone, the ladies finished their tea and rose. Tulip waddled after them loyally as April led Eugenia through the main halls of Stone Hall. The walls of the entrance gallery had been repainted a rich eggshell blue; portraits lined the walls in symmetrical grace.
“This is far more cheerful,” Eugenia said. “In my day, this room looked like a funeral march.”
They passed through the drawing room, the library, and April’s new music room, all freshly appointed with soft pastels and gilded touches.
Eugenia lingered at the windows. “Kent always had the prettiest light. When I was a girl, I spent every summer just outside Tunbridge Wells. The fields smelled of clover, and I fell in love every other week.”
April laughed. “And were they ever worthy of you?”
