She leaned her cane against the table and folded her hands.
“You brought the boy to my house,” she said. “And you did so with purpose. I approve of that purpose.”
Marcus inclined his head. “Henry benefits from Miss Edgewood’s instruction.”
“Yes,” Bessie said. “He does. And so do you.”
Marcus stilled.
“Do not bristle,” she said mildly. “The woman has steadied that child in ways you could not have managed alone. That does not diminish you. It strengthens your household.” Her gaze sharpened. “But approval is not immunity.”
Her cane tapped once. “Other people lack my discretion.”
“Lady Hammett,” Marcus said.
“Among others.”
She slid a small stack of ivory counters across the table, arranging them without thought. Habit, not play.
“There are whispers,” she said. “Nothing with teeth yet. But shape enough that ignoring them would be careless.”
“What whispers?”
“That the boy has attached himself to a music teacher he sees daily.” Her gaze held his. “That the wolf who once prowled my tables now spends an inordinate amount of time in a private room with that same teacher. And that perhaps the teacher is notonlya teacher.”
Marcus’s breath cooled.
“She has done nothing to invite that. She has shown nothing but patience with my son,” he said.
“I know.” Bessie’s tone flattened. “And I would not tolerate any suggestion otherwise.” Her eyes sharpened. “But the world enjoys invention, especially when Lady Hammett supplies it.”
Marcus felt the old ire rise, cold and precise.
“She questioned Henry.”
“Of course she did.” Bessie lifted an ivory gaming counter and set it down again. “Children speak plainly. Plain speech becomes fodder for people who do not understand restraint.”
Silence settled between them.
“Did he say something damaging?” Marcus asked.
“No.” Bessie leaned back. “But it was enough for Lady Hammett to decide you and Miss Edgewood share a… sympathetic connection.”
The phrase struck harder than it should have.
“I will not have Lady Hammett meddling with the boy,” Bessie said. “Nor with Miss Edgewood. Nor with you.”
“Then what do you require of me?”
“I require you,” she said, “to consider what shape your presence takes in Miss Edgewood’s life.”
Marcus’s jaw tightened. “You believe I have been careless.”
“I believe,” Bessie replied, “that you have begun to breathe again. And men who do so often forget how visible that becomes.”
He looked away.
“You watch her,” Bessie continued. “Even when you think you do not.”
