The words were so bald, so unadorned, that they left no room for argument. He gripped the seat’s leather, knuckles whitening. Lizzie chose that moment to howl in earnest, and whatever his response might have been died on his lips.
He found himself fighting the urge to shout, laugh, or simply speak the truth. Instead, he let silence spool out between them in the way only deep anger could allow.
After a while, Lizzie’s wails dwindled to a string of indignant squeaks. Felix watched as Rose rocked her gently, murmuring some sweet words over and over. The baby’s eyelids drooped, and Felix, against his better judgment, felt a strange warmth that was not anger at all.
“She has my eyes,” he said, meaning it as an observation, but Rose heard the confession in it.
“Of course she does,” Rose replied, voice flat. “She’s your daughter.”
He looked away, focusing on the swirl of landscape outside the window, and decided it was better to let Rose believe that, at least for the moment.
Some truths were not yet ready to be aired, not when even thinking them made his skin crawl.
Felix smoothed his waistcoat, regaining his composure. “Her origins will remain between us. In public, she will be our niece.A poor orphaned cousin, taken in out of family duty. If you wish, you may even select her new surname.”
Rose’s frown deepened. “She deserves the truth. Julia would have wanted her to know who she really was.”
“When she’s old enough,” Felix said. “Until then, she deserves security, not speculation that would lead to scandal.”
He did not add that he himself had grown up suffocating in a house full of secrets; it would have been too much like making an excuse.
The fields outside grew patchier, spring barely coloring the land, and Felix watched the hedges flick by, his jaw set. He had imagined this ride a hundred diverse ways: as a triumph, as an escape, even as a bitter joke.
He had not expected to feel this confined.
He cleared his throat. “We have several hours yet. If you wish to rest, Lady Rose, I will not stop you.”
She shot him a look that could have soured milk. “I would rather watch over the baby. My best friend asked me to take care of Lizzie, and I intend to honor her final wishes.”
He nodded. “Suit yourself.”
Rose settled back in her seat, the baby finally nodding off, her face smoothed into a wary peacefulness. Felix watched her as long as he dared, then closed his eyes and let the rhythm of the carriage lull him into a fugue state where neither of them had yet lost.
It was not a truce, not even close, but for the space of a long afternoon, the war was silent.
Carden Hall loomed against the failing daylight like a warship ready for siege. The carriage jostled to a stop on the graveled drive, and for a long moment, Felix sat motionless, unwilling to break the illusion of transit, of not yet having arrived. The air inside was close, charged with everything unsaid between him and Rose, and with the sticky warmth of an infant finally surrendering to sleep.
Outside, a half-dozen footmen had arrayed themselves in a neat row, uniforms brushed to a parade sheen. Felix smirked. He had not written ahead, yet the staff must have heard the carriage wheels and mobilized as if for a royal visit.
He stepped out first, boots sinking a fraction into the gravel, and then turned to offer a hand to Rose. She ignored it, gathering Lizzie and her basket with practiced efficiency, the way a woman does when she expects nothing and wants for nothing.
Felix let his hand fall. The gesture felt absurd now.
The butler appeared from the front entrance, a man so pale and bony he looked like the spirit of Carden House itself, starched into permanence.
“Welcome home, Your Grace,” he intoned. “Lord Aldworth is waiting in the study.”
“Of course he is,” Felix said, giving Rose a sidelong glance before turning back to the butler. “See that his glass is never empty.”
The butler’s eyes slid to Rose, flickered for the briefest moment on the child, then snapped back to Felix. “Shall I announce your other guest, sir?”
Felix hesitated. “Yes. You may announce her as Lady Rose. And you may as well announce Lizzie. She is to be treated as my ward from now on. My cousin, Michael’s daughter, was orphaned and left to my care.”
The lie came smoothly, practiced in his head, but he risked a glance at Lady Rose. She betrayed nothing.
“Very good, Your Grace.” The butler pivoted and led the way, motioning to a pair of maids to attend to Lady Rose’s things.
They entered through the grand vestibule, breathing in the cool air of the marble, every surface so clean it nearly blinded. Felix’s boots struck each slab in perfect time, a percussion that seemed to announce:Yes, the master is home, but never quite at home.
