Whether the promise was meant for Henry or for the uncertain path opening before her, she did not stop to decide.
Lila pushed the door open and stepped inside.
Chapter Seven
Henry woke witha different kind of quiet.
Not the hollow stillness that had shadowed him since France, nor the wary hush that had followed them back to London. It was the end of his first week of piano lessons and this morning held something gentler. A waiting quiet. As though the day itself paused to see what he would do with it.
Marcus noticed the change the moment he stepped into the room. Henry sat upright beneath the covers, woolen dog tucked under one arm, eyes open with a steadier light.
“Good morning,” Marcus said.
Henry nodded. “Is it music day?”
“It is.”
The boy’s fingers tightened on the blanket, not in fear but anticipation. Marcus crossed to the bed and crouched to meet him.
“You slept well.”
Henry leaned into the woolen dog. “I think so.”
It was as much as he could name. For a child who had learned to survive by shrinking his world into pieces he could hold, even that was progress.
Marcus helped him rise, guiding his small hands through the sleeves of his shirt and coat. Henry stood still as each button fastened. When his boots were tied, he slipped his hand into Marcus’s without being asked.
Downstairs, the house moved softly around them. Jameson tended the fire. The maids walked with careful footsteps. Themorning sun pressed through the tall windows with a muted glow.
Breakfast passed in near silence, but not the strained kind. Henry ate an apple slice and half a roll. Marcus sipped his tea. Between them stretched a calm that had not existed a week ago.
When the hour approached, Henry straightened in his seat.
“I am ready,” he said quietly.
Marcus rose and extended his hand. Henry accepted it, palm cool but steady.
They walked to Cleveland Row beneath a sky washed pale with early spring light. The streets were busy, but Henry stayed close, his steps purposeful. When they reached the familiar blue door of the Lyon’s Den, he hesitated only once.
Marcus lowered his voice. “Just enough bravery.”
Henry breathed in, then nodded.
Theseus ushered them inside. “Miss Edgewood is already in the music room.”
Henry’s hand tightened around Marcus’s. Not in fear. In resolve.
Lila stood near the pianoforte when they arrived.
The instrument had already been opened and the music laid out, as though she had been ready for them some time.
She wore a simple lavender gown, her hands folded in front of her. When she saw Henry, her smile softened rather than widened, a small shift that felt like welcome rather than expectation.
“Good morning, Master Henry,” she said.
The boy managed a quiet reply. “Good morning.”
Lila stepped aside from the pianoforte. “Would you like to listen first, like last time? Or try a sound of your own?”
