“You will burn it,” Stephen said, “At once.”
The footman looked surprised for the span of one blink.
“At once, Your Grace.” He reached for the letter.
Perhaps this was what was for the best.
Maria barely got a wink of sleep the night before. Violet found Maria already in the small morning room, sitting very straight in a chair by the window with a cup she had not touched.
Violet paused at the threshold.
“You have been up long?”
“A little,” Maria said, “I could not sleep.”
Violet crossed to her. “I hoped you might. Come, at least try the tea while it’s hot.” She poured and set the cup in Maria’s hands, then took the seat opposite. “I have waited all night not to ask, and now it is mornin’. I am going to fail at not asking.”
You have always been terrible at not asking.”
“True. But I try to be excellent at timing.” She leaned forward, elbows on her knees. “Maria… what happened?”
Maria lifted the cup, then set it down without drinking.
“It was late. I should not have arrived like that.”
“Arriving was not a crime,” Violet said gently.
“It was a poor choice,” Maria murmured. “My apologies, again.”
Violet waited a beat. “What did Stephen say?”
“That is precisely the difficulty,” Maria said. “What he said. And what I said. And… what we did not say until it was too late.”
“That sounds like a great many words that are not the ones I need.”
“Do you need them?”
“I need them because I am worried,” Violet replied simply. “Nicholas is worried, too. He asked me if you were ill. I told him you were tired. He asked me again.”
“Tell him I am tired,” Maria said, looking away.
“He will not be satisfied,” Violet said. “Nor am I.”
“Please do not make me say it yet.”
“All right.” She sat back. “Then tell me what you can say.”
“I left because staying felt… impossible,” Maria’s shoulders moved once.
What else could she say, even?
“And returning here felt possible?” Violet nodded slowly.
“For last night,” Maria said. “
“Then we succeeded,” Violet’s eyes warmed.
“Yes,” Maria whispered.