“Not goodnight,” he murmured. “Just until you wake.”
She closed the door gently and leaned against it, fingers resting where his lips had touched. On the other side, she heard his breath release, controlled, uneven, before his footsteps turned back toward Henry’s room.
Lila let the quiet settle.
And for the first time in a long while, what moved toward her did not feel like fear, but like a truth she was finally ready to stop outrunning.
Chapter Forty-Three
Lila woke toa pale shaft of spring sunlight brushing the edge of the guest-room curtains. For a moment, she lay still.
Wolfton Hall breathed differently in the morning. There was warmth now, lived-in warmth, from the muted clink of pots below stairs, the rustle of a housemaid in the corridor, the faint tap of Henry’s feet running somewhere. A household waking not in fear, but in relief.
No cellar. No ropes. No shadows stretching too long.
Just morning. And the quiet astonishment of still being here.
Lila pressed her palm briefly to her chest, steadying herself, then rose and dressed. Mrs. Pritchard had found one of her gowns and pressed it with care. The fabric was impossibly clean, impossibly gentle.
She stepped into the hall and made her way toward the stairs.
Halfway down, she heard it.
A laugh, bright, boyish, breathless.
Henry.
The sound pulled a smile from her before she reached the doorway. She turned into the breakfast room just as Henry spotted her. His chair scraped back violently.
“Miss Edgewood!”
Lila braced herself as he flung himself against her, arms tight around her waist as though anchoring her to the floor.
“You’re here! You’re really here!”
She laughed softly. “Yes, sweetheart. I am.”
“And you stayed all night!”
“I did.”
“I told Papa you would!”
Lila lifted her gaze.
Marcus stood near the sideboard, a cup of coffee in hand. He looked exhausted and unmistakably relieved. His eyes moved over her slowly, her face, her hands, the set of her shoulders, as if confirming she was whole. Real. Not some fragile hope daylight might undo.
“Good morning,” he said.
Warmth settled low in her chest. “Good morning.”
Henry tugged her toward the table. “Sit next to me! Papa saved you, and you saved Papa, and now everything is fixed.”
Lila blinked. “Fixed?”
“Yes. Because you’re here and he’s not sad anymore.”
A flush crept along Marcus’s cheekbones. “Henry,” he murmured, clearing his throat. “Eat your breakfast.”
