Violet made a sound against his shoulder, the urgency going out of it as the warmth of his body did its work.
“I need to fix this. What do I do?” he asked quietly.
Violet’s grip on his lapel loosened.
“I am going to fix it,” he said again, more firmly, as though saying it twice made it more than an intention.
He stood there for twenty minutes more after her breathing had evened out. Then he put her back in the cradle.
He stood in the doorway and looked at the chair by the window where Isadora had sat the first night, where he had seen her hold Violet and sing in the low, unhurried voice that had stirred something within him.
Then he went back to the study and remained there until morning.
At some point, Reeves appeared. James had not heard him come in. He became aware of him gradually, standing near the door.
“Your Grace,” Reeves said carefully. “It is past seven. Shall I?—”
“No.”
“You have been in that coat since yesterday morning, Your Grace.”
“I’m aware.”
A pause.
Reeves looked at the cold fireplace, at the untouched decanter, at the desk. “Shall I at least have the fire?—”
“Yes,” James said. “The fire. Thank you.”
Reeves had the fire burning in ten minutes. He said nothing else and withdrew.
James heard the carriage at half past nine. Barely a minute later, a knock sounded at the study door.
“Come,” he called.
Briggs opened the door and stepped inside. “The Duke of Blackmoor, Your Grace.”
“I know,” James said.
Briggs absorbed this without visible surprise. “Shall I?—”
“Send him in.” James paused. “And Briggs?”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
“Whatever you hear in this room in the next twenty minutes, do not interrupt.”
Briggs bowed his head. “Of course, Your Grace.”
With that, he withdrew.
The study was very quiet. James did not stand. He did not tidy the desk or put on a better coat or do any of the things he might have done to present a more composed version of himself to the man about to walk through the door. There was no version in which such a presentation was going to help him, and he had run out of energy to pretend otherwise.
The door opened, and William came in.
He was dressed for a visit he had not planned the previous evening—James could see it in his coat, in the absence of his hat. He had the expression James had seen perhaps four times in fifteen years of friendship, the one that meant William had arrived at a conclusion and intended to act on it, and the act was going to be uncomfortable for someone.
Today, that someone was James.
