Henry nodded. Not bravely. Not timidly. Simply yes.
Marcus felt something inside him give way.
Lila turned to him. “He needs quiet. Routine. Nothing sudden.”
“Yes,” Marcus said.
“And gentleness.”
He met her eyes. “He has that.”
Her expression shifted, not pity, not judgment. Recognition.
Bessie stepped forward. “I believe that concludes our first meeting.”
Henry stood, blanket still in hand. Marcus took his fingers carefully.
“Goodbye, Miss Edgewood,” Henry said.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Lila replied.
Marcus inclined his head. Words felt unnecessary.
Still, as Henry reached for his hand, Marcus found his attention drawn once more to Miss Edgewood.
A music teacher.
Young. Composed. Alone in a room where his presence carried far more weight than hers ever could.
It occurred to him, not for the first time, that a man in his position did not have the luxury of harmless mistakes.
Marcus dismissed the thought at once.
Henry’s lessons were what mattered.
Nothing more.
Outside, the air seemed cleaner. Henry lifted his face to the light, eyes closing as though committing the warmth to memory.
Marcus tightened his grip, not to restrain, only to steady his son.
They walked home slowly. Quietly. Together.
Something in the morning had shifted.
Chapter Three
The walk backto Grosvenor Square should have steadied him. Instead, it left Marcus unsettled in a way he could not name. London pressed close as it always had, familiar and insistent, yet it no longer met him where he stood. It was as if the city had shifted its weight and he had not followed.
Shopfronts were shuttering for the afternoon, their signs creaking softly in a restless wind. Children darted beneath the lampposts, shrieking, heedless that two horses shied and tossed their heads. One reared suddenly, hooves striking stone.
Marcus stopped.
For an instant, he was no longer on the street but trapped inside the echo of splintering wood and screaming metal, the sickening lurch of a carriage breaking apart. The moment suspended itself, sound without shape, terror without time.
He drew a breath, and the street returned, whole and solid beneath his feet.
London had never frightened him. Not even now. What unsettled him was that the noise no longer numbed him either.