“You shall die alone then,” Harriet informed him bluntly.
Morgan placed a hand upon his chest in mock injury. “Madam, your words wound me deeply.”
“They should,” Harriet sniffed.
Laughter rippled through the room again while Charlotte tried unsuccessfully to compose herself. Her heart felt impossibly full as she watched both families mingling together so naturally beneath the candlelight. Not long ago, she had feared for her sisters’ futures, feared loneliness, feared that love itself might forever remain beyond her reach. Now she stood surrounded by warmth, laughter, and the overwhelming certainty that she belonged here.
Elizabeth suddenly spoke up from her chair. “You see,” she said proudly, “none of this would have happened if Charlotte had not returned after they broke apart.”
The room fell into confused silence.
Charlotte blinked rapidly. “What do you mean, Grandmother?”
Elizabeth waved dismissively. “When you first left Mulford Manor, naturally. Victor was absolutely unbearable after she departed. Then she returned and now here we are with a baby on the way.”
Morgan frowned. “They broke apart?”
Lionel looked deeply entertained. “I believe Grandmother is confusing timelines again.”
Charlotte suddenly realized what Elizabeth meant and burst into laughter. She leaned toward Victor and whispered against his ear, “She refers to when I resigned as her companion and briefly left the manor.”
Victor’s shoulders shook with quiet amusement. “Ah,” he murmured. “Then perhaps Grandmother’s forgetful mind is not nearly so poor as we assumed.”
Elizabeth pointed triumphantly at them both. “There now, you see? I knew exactly what I meant.”
“Of course you did,” Victor replied fondly.
He bent to kiss Elizabeth’s cheek tenderly. Charlotte’s chest tightened warmly at the sight. There had once been a time when Victor feared attachment itself, when grief and guilt had hollowed him from within until he believed love only led to pain. Yet now he stood surrounded by family, openly smiling, openly happy, with his grandmother glowing beside him.
“Thank you,” Victor told Elizabeth quietly. “For bringing Charlotte into my life.”
Elizabeth patted his cheek. “You’re welcome.”
Charlotte smiled helplessly as the room dissolved into teasing conversation again. Bridget returned to the pianoforte and began playing a lively tune while Gerald asked Arabella to dance. Joan immediately dragged Penelope toward the center of the room while Irene protested loudly that Joan was stepping upon her slippers.
Harriet sighed dramatically beside Charlotte. “Soon all my daughters shall marry and abandon me.”
“Mama,” Charlotte said patiently, “you say that every week.”
“Because it remains true every week.”
Victor leaned closer to Charlotte’s ear. “I begin to understand where your sisters inherited their theatrics.”
Charlotte laughed softly. “And yet you look rather fond of them.”
Victor glanced toward Harriet, Joan, Irene, and Penelope with reluctant amusement. “Against my better judgment, I do.”
Eventually, Victor quietly stole Charlotte away from the crowded drawing room.
“Where are we going?” she whispered as he guided her through the corridor.
“To escape your family before your mother names the child herself.”
Charlotte gasped softly. “She already suggested twelve names.”
“I rest my case.”
He led her into the empty library where moonlight spilled softly through the tall windows. The distant sounds of laughter and music still drifted faintly through the manor, but here it felt peaceful and private. Victor closed the door behind them before turning toward her with that devastatingly handsome smile that still managed to undo her entirely.
