Silence stretched between them. Not avoidance. Consideration.
She met his gaze.
“No,” she whispered. “We cannot.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
Theseus paused inthe doorway, his expression easy, unhurried.
“Master Henry,” he said, “Mrs. Dove-Lyon wonders if you might care to see the kitchen. Cook has just finished the custards, and she’s in a generous mood.”
Henry’s eyes lit at once. “Custards?”
“Theseus,” Lila said gently, “we are nearly finished.”
Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s cane tapped once from the corridor.
“Nonsense,” Bessie said. “Music settles better on a full stomach. Go on, Henry. We will not let your father steal your portion.”
Henry looked to Marcus, seeking permission he no longer needed but still liked to claim.
Marcus nodded. “Go.”
Henry slid from the bench and hurried toward the door, Theseus already holding it open for him.
“I will be right outside,” Henry announced solemnly, as if issuing a command.
“I know,” Marcus said.
When the door closed, the room changed.
Not abruptly.
Not dramatically.
But unmistakably.
Theseus returned a moment later with a small tray. Tea, already poured. He set it down without comment, gave Marcus a knowing glance, and withdrew.
The quiet that followed was no longer incidental. It was chosen. Awake. Attentive.
Lila clasped her hands because she needed to do something with them. The faint warmth of Marcus’s coat reached her in soft waves, each one a reminder of how near he stood and how carefully he was holding himself. He was close enough that she could sense the strength beneath his restraint, contained but fully present.
“Marcus,” she said softly, “you cannot let him draw you into danger.”
“He already has,” Marcus answered.
His voice was low and even, but the truth in it carried weight.
“What remains,” he said, “is choosing the form of it.”
“That is not an answer.”
“It is the only one that matters.”
She closed her eyes briefly. “I do not want you hurt because of me.”
“That assumes you are the reason.”
