He sat pressed against her on the drawing-room settee, his head tucked beneath her arm, fingers curled into a fold of her skirt as though anchoring himself to the proof that she was real and still here.
Lila smoothed his hair in slow, careful strokes. The house had settled into the hush that follows danger, the fragile stillness that comes when everyone is safe, but no one yet trusts the quiet.
Mrs. Pritchard brought a tray of warm milk and biscuits. Henry accepted one and no more, unwilling to release his hold on Lila even for a moment.
Marcus stood near the hearth.
Not looming. Not pacing. Simply watching.
Each time Henry shifted, Marcus’s gaze followed. Each time Lila drew a sharper breath, his posture tightened, then eased again when she settled.
“Papa,” Henry said softly, “can Miss Edgewood stay until I fall asleep?”
Marcus met Lila’s eyes. He did not ask. He waited, offering her the choice without pressure.
She nodded. “Of course.”
Something loosened in his shoulders. Henry burrowed closer.
“Tell me a story?”
“Only if you lie down.”
Reluctantly, he slid until his head rested in her lap. His breathing slowed almost at once.
Lila began to hum, the melody gentle and familiar. Marcus recognized it from Henry’s lessons. It carried comfort. Safety. The quiet assurance that nothing would intrude here.
Henry’s lashes fluttered closed. Within minutes, he slept.
Lila let her fingers rest lightly on his shoulder. She did not dare move.
Marcus stepped closer. “He’ll wake if we carry him upstairs,” he murmured.
She looked up at him. “Then we won’t.”
The quiet that followed was full rather than strained.
Marcus lowered himself into the chair beside the settee, elbows braced on his knees, hands loosely clasped. Firelight softened the hard planes of his face, easing the marks the night had carved there.
“You’re exhausted,” he said.
“So are you.”
A breath escaped him, not quite a laugh.
For a long moment, neither spoke.
Then Lila said, barely above a whisper, “Thank you for finding me.”
Marcus’s jaw flexed. “I didn’t find you.”
“Yes, you did.”
“No.” His gaze lifted to hers. “You signaled. You created the opening. I followed what you gave me.”
Warmth spread beneath her ribs. “You still came.”
“Of course I came.”
