The cliffs?
Fiona rose from her chair, a faint thread of concern tightening in her chest.
“Thank you, Thomas.”
She fetched her cloak from the peg near the servants’ entrance and slipped outside.
The night air was cool and damp, carrying the distant sound of the sea. The clouds had thinned since evening, and a faint wash of moonlight silvered the lawns and hedgerows.
Christian had likely come here for the same reason she sometimes wandered the grounds when her thoughts grew restless—to clear his mind beneath an open sky.
Still, she found herself walking quickly.
The path wound through the dark gardens and along the familiar rise beyond them. By the time she reached the cliff path, the open stretch of sea lay ahead, pale beneath the thin light of the clouds.
And there he was.
Christian stood a little way from the edge, his coat draped over a nearby stone, gazing out across the water as though weighing something only he could see.
“Christian.”
He turned at once at the sound of her voice.
“Fiona?” A hint of surprise crossed his face. “What are you doing out here?”
“I might ask you the same.”
A faint smile tugged at his mouth.
“I needed a breath of air. Thornwick can feel… very full of thoughts tonight.”
She came to stand beside him, following his gaze toward the restless sea.
“Have you been writing?”
“Yes.” He exhaled slowly. “Your father will receive a very patient letter tomorrow morning.”
“And?”
“And I have done my best to be civil,” he said dryly. “Though I suspect the man will find fault with civility as readily as anything else.”
Fiona glanced up at him. “My father has always had a particular talent for finding fault.”
Christian’s mouth curved faintly, though the expression did not quite reach his eyes.
They stood for a moment in silence, the wind moving restlessly along the cliffside.
“At any rate,” he said at last, “the letter is written.”
“And that eases your mind?”
He did not answer immediately.
“No,” he said after a pause. “Not particularly.”
Fiona studied his profile. The faint humour that had touched his voice a moment before had faded again, leaving something far more guarded behind.
“Christian.”
