Edward did not answer at once.
Instead, he said, “You have spent a decade avoiding permanence as though it were a disease. At some point, that ceases to be independence and becomes evasion.”
Christopher regarded him with new interest. “That sounded remarkably like advice.”
Edward’s mouth tightened. “Take it or leave it.”
For a moment, Christopher said nothing. Then—unexpectedly—his expression shifted. The humor softened, something quieter taking its place.
“Thereissomeone,” he said suddenly.
Christopher’s expression shifted—uncertain, unguarded. “I did not expect it. She is … unlike anyone I have known.”
Edward blinked. “You?”
“Yes, me.” Christopher huffed a quiet laugh. “She is kind. Reserved. Not impressed by anything I say. Which is unsettling.”
Edward studied his friend. “You have never spoken this way before.”
“I know.”
“Who is she?”
Christopher hesitated. “I will tell you when I am certain.”
Edward nodded slowly. “Then I am pleased for you.”
Christopher smiled, genuine now. “Thank you.”
They turned back toward the house.
That was when Edward saw her.
Charlotte moved along the edge of the garden, cautious, deliberate, as though she wished not to be noticed. Her shawl was drawn close, her steps measured. She paused near the hedges, glancing back once before continuing.
Edward’s breath caught.
Christopher followed his gaze and chuckled softly. “Go,” he murmured. “I will keep the wolves at bay.”
Edward hesitated only a moment before following.
He approached slowly, mindful not to startle her.
She turned at the sound of his steps, eyes widening before she composed herself. “Your Grace—I did not hear—”
“I am sorry,” he said quietly. “I did not mean to frighten you.”
She shook her head. “It is nothing. I only needed air.”
“Is Julian—?”
“Sleeping,” she assured him. “The Penningtons’ governess kindly offered to sit with him.”
Relief eased something tight in his chest.
“You look unwell,” Edward said before he could stop himself.
She smiled faintly. “I am merely overtired.”