“It is the most practical reason,” he said.
“But is it the only one?”
A pause.
“Isadora.” He set down the letter. “The next few days will be difficult. Solicitors and paperwork and conversations with people who will not want to have them. It is not…” He seemed to search for the right word. “It is not the kind of errand that benefits from company.”
“It might benefit from yours,” she argued.
“Mine is the errand,” he said with slight impatience. “Violet needs someone here who knows her. Who she trusts. That is you.” He picked up the letter again. “I’ll send word when I know more. I’ll say goodbye before I go.”
“All right,” she relented after a moment.
Silence followed. He did not appear to notice it.
“Good.” He nodded, already reading the letter.
He did not say goodbye before he left.
She stood in the corridor outside his study for perhaps thirty seconds. She was not sure what she had expected him to say. Something different, perhaps. Something that acknowledged the week they had had—the terrace, the roses, the kiss. Something that suggested he had been as affected by it as she had.
She walked toward the nursery.
It was practical. He was right that it was practical. Plus, Violet did need consistency. Mrs. Plum was good, but she was not Isadora. And the trip to London was not for pleasure.
She picked up Violet, who was in excellent humor, carried her to the window, and stood looking out at the drive. Violet grabbed her hair and made the sound she made when she found something satisfying.
“Yes,” Isadora murmured absently. “I know.”
Violet pulled. “Ba-ba.”
“That is attached,” Isadora said, untangling her hair delicately.
Violet pulled again, with more conviction.
Isadora heard the gravel crunch as the carriage rolled down the drive, and she looked at Violet, who was looking back at her.
Violet released her hair and patted her cheek—a new habit.
“I am perfectly fine,” Isadora assured her.
Violet looked at her with large, assessing eyes. “Oh no.”
“I am,” Isadora insisted. “He just forgot.”
Violet made a sound.
“He is busy,” Isadora said. “He has a great deal to manage.”
Violet continued looking at her.
“It does not mean anything,” Isadora muttered.
CHAPTER 24
By the afternoon, she had reorganized three shelves in the library.
This was not something she had planned to do. She had gone to the library to read, had found herself unable to, had stood in front of the shelves for a moment, and had decided that the organization system was insufficient.
