For several moments, he paced once across the room, then back, drawing himself together piece by piece. Control. He needed control. Without it, he would become his father’s son in the ugliest sense, a man ruled by fury and calling it order.
At last, he looked at Juliet.
“You will return home tonight.”
She stiffened. “Rowan?—”
“Tonight.”
“I am not ready.”
“You have forfeited readiness.”
Fresh tears spilled down her cheeks. “Please.”
The plea struck him somewhere tender and furious. He had protected her since she was small. He had mistaken protection for possession, perhaps. But she was still his sister, hiding in another man’s house while Aaron mourned her. She would not remain there another night.
“My carriage is outside,” he said. “You will go to it now.”
Juliet looked to Frederick.
Rowan’s voice dropped. “Do not look at him. Look at me.”
She did, trembling.
“Now.”
For a second, he thought she might refuse. Then her shoulders folded inward, and she moved past him toward the corridor. Frederick stepped as though to follow, but Rowan’s hand shot out, barring him.
“You have done enough.”
He turned toward the door. “Emmeline. Come.”
Frederick moved. “Rowan, do not leave like this.”
Rowan did not stop.
Behind him, he heard Emmeline’s footsteps, light and hesitant, following him out of the room, and the sound hurt more than the betrayal should have allowed. Because even now, some ruined part of him was listening for whether she would still follow.
Chapter Twenty-Six
“Aunt Juliet!”
Aaron’s voice broke through the entrance hall before anyone else could speak, bright and disbelieving and so full of joy that Emmeline felt the sound pierce straight through the brittle quiet inside her.
Juliet had scarcely stepped over the threshold before the boy ran to her. His small arms went around her waist with such force that she staggered back half a step, one hand flying to his shoulder, the other to the back of his head.
“Aaron,” Juliet whispered, and the name broke in two.
“I knew you would come back,” Aaron said against her gown, though his voice shook. “I knew it.”
Emmeline stood near the door, her body cold from the night air and from everything that had happened inside Frederick’shouse. She felt Rowan motionless beside her without looking at him.
Aaron pulled back at last, his hands still gripping Juliet’s skirts. His smile wavered as he looked from her tear-streaked face to Rowan’s rigid posture, then to Emmeline, who could not summon anything bright enough to reassure him.
His brow furrowed. “What… what is wrong?”
Juliet drew in a trembling breath.
