The thought made him aware of how easily the simplest kindness might be misread.
He forced the concern aside.
Henry’s lesson must not become another thing the boy feared.
Bessie returned alone, serenity restored. “Come. Miss Edgewood is expecting you.”
Lila waited inthe small music parlor when they entered, the morning sun catching the soft sweep of her hair. She greeted Henry first, then Marcus, her voice quiet and warm.
Henry climbed onto the bench without prompting.
Lila placed his small left hand on the keys, guiding gently. “Just the lower notes today. Slow. Steady.”
Henry drew a careful breath and pressed the first key. Then another. Then a third.
Marcus watched the tension loosen in the boy’s shoulders. Watched the way Lila nodded each time Henry glanced towardher, seeking reassurance. Her encouragement was so steady, so assured, that he never once flinched.
He had seen seasoned officers attempt the same thing with frightened men and fail.
Miss Edgewood did it without command, without urgency, as though calm were simply something she carried into a room and allowed others to barrow.
Through the wall Marcus heard a faint, delighted murmur.
“Oh, Bessie, do you hear that lovely bit of music. How very accomplished she must be. And the child, surely that is Lord Wolfton’s boy.”
Bessie hummed approval. “Indeed.”
Marcus’s jaw tightened.
Lila only smiled faintly and continued the lesson as though she had heard nothing at all.
Marcus wondered how often she had learned to ignore voices like that.
Henry looked at her. Not the wall.
Music, not gossip, claimed the room.
When the lessonended, Henry slid from the bench, his face flushed with pride.
“I played the first line,” he whispered.
“You did,” Lila said softly. “And tomorrow, you will play it again with even more confidence.”
The door between the parlors opened, and Mrs. Hammett swept in with theatrical delight.
“My dears,” she trilled. “What charming music. Truly, Miss Edgewood, you must be a miracle worker.”
Lila offered a polite curtsy. “You are most kind.”
Mrs. Hammett’s gaze drifted from Henry to Marcus and finally to the gentle way Lila stood near them both. Her fan fluttered. Too quickly. Too knowingly.
“Lord Wolfton,” she said. “How fortunate your household is to have found such refined instruction.”
Marcus inclined his head with perfect neutrality. “We are grateful.”
Bessie stood at Mrs. Hammett’s elbow at once, guiding her toward the corridor with a smooth, unassailable touch of courtesy.
“This way, Mrs. Hammett. I shall have tea sent up.”
