“Did you quarrel?”
Maria considered that. “We told the truth. Well, he did anyway.”
“A truth about what?”
Maria’s mouth pressed into a line. “Violet.”
“Very well,” Violet said, accepting the boundary, “When you are ready.”
Maria reached for the cup again as if to occupy her hands. She took a small sip, then set it down.
“How early does Nicholas rise?”
“He is awake,” Violet said. “He is pretending to read dispatches so that he does not come in here and blunder.”
“Do not let him blunder,” Maria said, and the corner of her mouth attempted humor. “He is very poor at it.”
“I shall try.”
There was a knock; both women looked up. Nicholas appeared in the doorway.
“Good morning,” he said carefully.
“Good morning,” Maria returned, just as careful.
“You slept,” he said.
“A little,” Maria said.
“Good,” he said, “Will you tell me why you came? You need not, but…”
“She need not,” Violet cut in.
Nicholas looked at his wife.
“I am aware.” He looked back at Maria. “You left your husband’s house at midnight.”
“I did.”
“I am not asking to scold,” Nicholas said. “Only to know how to help.”
“You help by letting me sit here and drink tea and not decide anything for a few hours.”
Nicholas nodded.
“I can do that.”
He did not move. Violet shot him a look. He accepted it and sat, perched like a large, well-meaning bird on the edge of the opposite chair.
“I will be in the library,” he said, rising again almost immediately. “Summon me if you need me. Or, if you prefer I stay, I will stay.” He looked helplessly between them. “I don’t know which is correct.”
“Library,” Maria echoed.
Nicholas inclined his head and retreated, closing the door without a sound.
Violet turned back. “Pay him no mind.”
Maria drew a breath. “I do not wish to make him choose sides he does not understand.”