For a moment, neither spoke.
Celine removed her gloves one finger at a time, aware of his gaze but pretending not to be. He sat opposite her—farther than necessary—his posture crisp, his expression unreadable.
At first, silence held. Then he cleared his throat.
“You handled Lady Vanceley remarkably well the last time we were here.”
She glanced up. “It was nothing,” she replied lightly. “A bit of polite fencing.”
“You were more than merely polite,” he said. “You were… assured.”
She blinked, unsure whether to take it as praise. “I was only being myself.”
“That,” he murmured, “is precisely what unsettles me.”
The words hung in the air—intimate, honest.
Celine felt a prickle low in her stomach. Recognition.
“You speak,” she said quietly, “as if my presence is a problem you must solve.”
His mouth tightened. “It was easier, before.”
“Before what?”
“Before I had a wife who looks at every corner of my life and sees more than is comfortable.”
Her breath caught.
The innkeeper returned with the first course—a simple stew and fresh bread—and departed again. They both picked up their spoons; neither ate.
“It seems,” she said after a moment, “that we keep circling the same questions.”
“Because we are avoiding the answers.”
She set her spoon down. “Then perhaps it is time we stopped avoiding them.”
He looked at her then—properly, directly. His eyes were tired, but clear.
“I am trying,” he said, “to remain the sort of man who does not act rashly. Who does not take without thought. Who does not repeat his father’s mistakes.”
“That is admirable,” she said softly.
“It is maddening,” he replied with equal softness.
Another silence. This one warmer. Closer.
She rose slowly, as sitting felt suddenly too still. He tensed as she approached, but didn’t move away.
She stopped beside his chair, close enough to feel his heat.
“I am not here to tempt you into being reckless,” she said quietly. “Only into being honest.”
He studied her for a long moment. She felt the weight of it, not possessive— searching. Struggling. Wanting to understand.
At last he spoke.
“Honesty,” he said, “is precisely what I am trying to manage carefully.”
