Chapter Eighteen
The private door of the Lyon’s Den closed behind them with a muted click.
Cool evening air swept the lane. Lanterns burned low along the shopfronts, their light catching on the rising mist. Henry tucked closer beneath Marcus’s coat, not frightened, only seeking warmth and the certainty of his father’s presence.
Marcus adjusted his stride to keep Lila between him and the street. The choice came from instinct.
Lila held her portfolio tight against her side. The deep blue of her gown caught the lantern glow, shadowing the bones of her wrist. The quiet settled around them, but it was not peaceful. It felt like a breath held.
“You needn’t trouble yourself,” she said softly. “I walk this route often.”
“Not tonight,” Marcus replied. A truth, not a courtesy.
She looked ahead.
Henry kicked a pebble along the lane. “Miss Edgewood?”
“Yes, Master Henry?”
“Why did the man speak to you that way?” His voice was small. Honest. He had been holding the question in.
Lila paused a fraction too long. Before she could answer, Marcus did.
“Some men,” he said, “forget how to speak with respect.”
Henry frowned. “Why?”
“Because they were not taught better.”
Lila looked at Marcus, warmth flickering in her eyes. Not gratitude for rescue, gratitude for a truth set down plainly.
The pebble clattered ahead. Henry ran after it, giving them a few paces of privacy.
“I am sorry for the scene,” Lila said quietly.
“You have nothing to apologize for.”
“I do,” she replied. “Attention seldom falls on a woman like me unless someone gives it shape first. He has been… persistent.”
Marcus’s jaw tightened. “Fenwick’s persistence is not your burden.”
“It becomes mine,” she said, “once others begin to notice.”
They walked in silence.
She had spoken the truth of her position. A boarding house had too many eyes. A reputation that could splinter under the wrong glance.
He wanted to reassure her. To promise protection. Such promises belonged to men who were certain of their ground.
Instead, he said, “Mrs. Dove-Lyon was right. You should not walk alone tonight.”
“I dislike imposing.”
“You are not imposing.”
“You do not know that,” she said.
Marcus stopped short.
Lila halted beside him.
Lantern light softened her profile, the clean line of her jaw, the vulnerability she hid behind composure. She was too aware of being seen. Too aware of what might be said.
“You should not have to fend off unwanted attention alone,” he said gently. “Not from Fenwick. Not from anyone.”
Her gaze dropped to her gloved hands. “And you believe being seen with you would help?”
He swallowed. “I do not know. But I know that giving Fenwick one moment more of your company would harm you far worse.”
The admission slipped free.
Lila’s breath caught—only just.
Henry returned, holding up the pebble. “I found it!”
“Well done,” she said, steady again.
They walked on.
By Dover Street, Lila slowed. Rosehaven House came into view, modest and orderly, lamplight spilling across its steps. Curtains shifted upstairs, discreet but attentive. Women in boarding houses noticed.
“You may leave me here,” she said quickly. “I can manage the last steps.”
Marcus did not move.
“It is ten paces,” she insisted. “And I would not have anyone mistake this for impropriety.”
Henry looked between them, confused by rules he did not yet know.
“I will walk you to the door,” Marcus said.
She weighed caution against truth, fear against dignity. Then nodded.
Henry took her hand for the last steps. Not from fear. From choice.
At the door, she released him gently and turned to Marcus.
“Thank you.”
“If Fenwick troubles you again—”
“He will,” she said quietly. “Men like that mistake persistence for virtue.”
“But he will not catch me unaware.”
She curtsied, formal and intimate all at once. “Good evening, my lord.”
“Good evening, Miss Edgewood.”
She smiled at Henry. “Tomorrow.”
He nodded.
The door closed behind her.
Marcus lingered a moment, the evening pressing against him.
“Papa?”
“Yes.”
“Will Miss Edgewood be all right?”
Marcus looked at the closed door. “I intend to make certain of it.”
They walked home in silence. The mist gathered around them. And the quiet between them had changed.