The movement was small enough that no one else might have noticed.
Lila did.
A small movement. Controlled. Deliberate.
A line drawn.
Fenwick’s brows lifted. Not in surprise. In interest.
“Well,” he said, his smile slow and practiced. “Miss Edgewood. And Lord Wolfton. How fortunate.”
Bessie’s gaze flicked between them and cooled at once.
“Mr. Fenwick,” she said with precise calm, “you are finished here.”
Fenwick’s smile remained.
“I’ve only just arrived. A trifling matter concerning last night’s gaming tally—”
“Finished,” Bessie repeated, tapping her cane once.
Fenwick inclined his head, but his attention never left Lila.
“Miss Edgewood,” he said softly. “A pleasure, as always.”
Marcus stepped a fraction closer. The nearness shaped itself around her like a shield she had not requested yet could not imagine surrendering.
Fenwick’s eyes slid to Marcus’s hand, curled subtly at his side.
“Lord Wolfton,” Fenwick added. “Your reputation precedes you.”
Marcus said nothing.
No greeting. No dismissal. Not even a nod.
Something in Fenwick’s smile tightened.
He bowed, shallow and mocking, and walked out. Not quickly. Savoring the moment. The door closed behind him with a muted click.
Silence filled the corridor.
Marcus released a controlled breath.
Bessie stepped forward. “Miss Edgewood,” she said quietly. “My breakfast guest is waiting for you. Into the music room. Now.”
Lila could hear Henry practicing in the faint, uneven patience of the keys. She went to him.
Marcus followed.
As soon as the door shut behind them, Lila pressed a hand to her throat.
“That was not an accident,” she whispered. “He came for—”
“Yes,” Marcus said. “He did.”
“What does it mean?”
“It means,” Marcus said, his voice steady with something newly settled beneath it, “that the next move will not be his.”
