His gaze swept over the table, pausing not on her or Lady Eugenia but locking on Gregory Roth with a force that felt like a blade. April’s teacup faltered in her hand. The silence that followed his entrance was brief but charged, and though his expression evened, the tension in his shoulders did not ease.
Something had changed.
He greeted them all with the decorum expected of a duke, his voice measured. “Cousin, welcome. You are up early.”
Gregory smiled, ever smooth. “The country air has worked its charms. I find I am sleeping better here than I have in years.”
Theo’s lips curved faintly. “Then you must allow me to show you the new geldings that arrived yesterday. They are housed in the stables.”
Gregory dabbed at his mouth with a napkin and rose. “I’d like that.”
April could barely hear them over the rush of dread rising in her chest. Theo’s face was a mask, but it was one she had come to know. The quiet fury. The restraint that only appeared when something inside him threatened to break. His smile did not touch his eyes, and the way he stood—too still, too precise—told her more than words ever could.
As Gregory reached for his coat, Theo held the door open for him. April rose with them, but Theo turned toward her, his hand briefly brushing her arm in what should have been a comfort—but was too brief. Too distant.
She waited until the door closed then followed swiftly, her slippers near silent against the floor.
She caught up to him in the hallway just outside the study, heart pounding. “Theo.”
He stopped, turned. He did not look at her.
“What is it?” she asked. “Something is wrong.”
He opened the study door and stepped inside. She followed him, closing the door behind them.
“April, you must remain here.”
“No. I will not sit and sip tea while you—what? Show him horses? There’s more to this, Theo. I feel it.”
He turned away, crossing to the hearth. He rested a hand on the mantle, his back rigid. “April, you must trust me.”
“I do trust you,” she said softly. “Which is why I want to stand beside you.”
He looked at her then, and the pain behind his eyes startled her. It was raw, bare. A grief she couldn’t yet name.
“I wish to come,” she pleaded again. “I want to see the geldings. I won’t hover, I promise.”
He rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. “No.”
“Why? You cannot keep me out simply because you are upset.”
“You do not understand.”
“Then explain it to me.”
His voice, when it came, was barely controlled. “April—stay here. That is all I ask.”
She stepped closer, refusing to be dismissed. “Why are you treating me like this?”
His eyes flickered—panic, guilt, rage. She knew all of them too well now. He was unraveling, and she could not reach him.
“I will not obey you blindly, not without reason,” she said, her voice quiet but firm. “I deserve more than silence.”
He stared at her, unmoving. Then, without warning, he said the words that made the world go still.
“Must you argue every time? Must you always need more than I can give? You were supposed to be a wife of convenience. That is all. And frankly, I am finished indulging you.”
April felt the breath leave her body.
