Chapter Forty-Three
Lila woke to a pale shaft of spring sunlight brushing the edge of the guest-room curtains. For a moment, she lay still.
Wolfton Hall breathed differently in the morning. There was warmth now, lived-in warmth, from the muted clink of pots below stairs, the rustle of a housemaid in the corridor, the faint tap of Henry’s feet running somewhere. A household waking not in fear, but in relief.
No cellar. No ropes. No shadows stretching too long.
Just morning. And the quiet astonishment of still being here.
Lila pressed her palm briefly to her chest, steadying herself, then rose and dressed. Mrs. Pritchard had found one of her gowns and pressed it with care. The fabric was impossibly clean, impossibly gentle.
She stepped into the hall and made her way toward the stairs.
Halfway down, she heard it.
A laugh, bright, boyish, breathless.
Henry.
The sound pulled a smile from her before she reached the doorway. She turned into the breakfast room just as Henry spotted her. His chair scraped back violently.
“Miss Edgewood!”
Lila braced herself as he flung himself against her, arms tight around her waist as though anchoring her to the floor.
“You’re here! You’re really here!”
She laughed softly. “Yes, sweetheart. I am.”
“And you stayed all night!”
“I did.”
“I told Papa you would!”
Lila lifted her gaze.
Marcus stood near the sideboard, a cup of coffee in hand. He looked exhausted and unmistakably relieved. His eyes moved over her slowly, her face, her hands, the set of her shoulders, as if confirming she was whole. Real. Not some fragile hope daylight might undo.
“Good morning,” he said.
Warmth settled low in her chest. “Good morning.”
Henry tugged her toward the table. “Sit next to me! Papa saved you, and you saved Papa, and now everything is fixed.”
Lila blinked. “Fixed?”
“Yes. Because you’re here and he’s not sad anymore.”
A flush crept along Marcus’s cheekbones. “Henry,” he murmured, clearing his throat. “Eat your breakfast.”
“I am.”
“He means quietly,” Lila added, smoothing Henry’s hair.
Henry giggled into his milk.
Marcus’s gaze returned to her again, softer now, threaded with something unspoken.
“Mrs. Pritchard has prepared a proper meal,” he said. “You should eat.”
“I’m famished.”
Henry pointed a spoon at his father. “Papa is too.”
Marcus shot him a warning look, entirely ineffective.
“He was up all night,” Henry continued cheerfully. “He checked on me four times, and then he sat outside your door because he said—”
“Henry,” Marcus cut in sharply, “eat.”
Henry stuffed porridge into his mouth, shaking with silent laughter.
Lila felt her pulse catch. She turned to Marcus.
“You sat outside my door?”
His jaw flexed. “I wanted to be close if you woke. Or… if you didn’t.”
Warmth spread through her chest, slow, steady, deep.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
He held her gaze. “If the floor had been colder, I would have slept there.”
Her smile returned, soft and unguarded. He looked as though it unsettled him in the best possible way.
When breakfast was finished, Henry darted upstairs to fetch a wooden soldier he insisted she absolutely had to see, leaving Marcus and Lila alone by the window. Sunlight stretched across the carpet in warm bars.
“Henry seems himself again,” Lila said.
“Yes,” Marcus replied quietly. “More himself than I’ve seen him in some time.”
Their eyes met. The closeness from the night before lingered, not urgent, but present. A promise waiting its turn.
Marcus stepped closer. Not too close. But close enough that she felt the shift of air between them.
“I wanted to speak with you,” he began, voice low.
Her breath slowed.
“But not now,” he said, stopping himself. “Not before you’ve had a peaceful morning. Not before—”
He searched her face, something tender and uncertain moving in his eyes.
“Later,” he murmured. “When we both have steadier ground beneath us.”
She nodded, grateful.
A soft knock broke the moment.
Mrs. Pritchard appeared in the doorway. “Pardon, my lord. Major Townsend has arrived. He says it is an urgent matter concerning Mr. Fenwick.”
Lila went still.
Marcus straightened. He nodded once. “Show him to the study.”
Mrs. Pritchard nodded and withdrew.
Lila turned to Marcus, calm but wary. “Has something happened?”
“I will know shortly,” he said. Stay here. I won’t be long.”
She nodded, grateful he had not shielded her with false reassurance.
The study door shut softly behind them. Major Townsend was not sitting. He stood near the window, hat tucked beneath his arm.
“You said the matter was urgent,” Marcus said.
“It is.” Townsend handed him a folded dispatch.
Marcus read it.
The communication was foreign. Dated nearly two years prior. From Baden.
“It concerns the daughter of a cadet branch connected to a ducal line,” Townsend said quietly. “Not central. But not insignificant.”
Marcus said nothing.
“Her father arranged a marriage meant to secure the branch’s standing. She refused and disappeared before the contract could be formalized. The family kept the matter discreet. No crime. Only… embarrassment.”
Understanding threaded itself into Marcus with slow, precise clarity.
“The lullaby you heard her hum,” Townsend added, “belongs to that branch. Passed from nurse to child. A Morgenwald song.”
Marcus’s breath caught.
Bow Street. Her voice. Henry leaning toward her.
It’s a lullaby my nurse used to sing to me when I was your age.
He had heard it—and not truly listened.
“She is safe here,” Townsend continued. “But if word travels to the wrong ears, her family may attempt to reclaim what they believe they’ve lost. Not from cruelty. From lineage.”
Marcus pressed a hand flat against the desk.
“She will tell me,” he said quietly. “When she is ready.”
Townsend inclined his head. “I trust she will.” He paused. “I will see myself out, Marcus.”
“Thank you, Felix.”
The door clicked shut behind him.
Marcus remained still, the dispatch resting beneath his palm, the echo of the lullaby lingering in the room.
Not in shock.
Understanding.
And a deepening respect for the courage it took to build a life far from what had once claimed her.
He would wait for her to tell him.
But he would not step back into the next room unchanged.