“I thought I appeared perfectly ordinary,” Emmeline said, lowering her gaze to the teacup in her hand.
“You appear anything but ordinary,” Margaret replied.
Emmeline gave her a warning look, but Margaret only smiled as though she had said nothing improper at all.
Rowan’s gaze moved between them. “Am I interrupting?”
“Only tea,” Emmeline replied.
“And conversation,” Margaret added.
Emmeline looked down at her lap, but not quickly enough to hide the deepening color in her cheeks.
Rowan’s body remembered the same flush creeping down her throat last night while she lay beneath him, trembling, trying to hold back the sounds he had coaxed from her with his mouth.
“I shall leave you to it,” he said, before the memory possessed him entirely.
“A wise retreat,” Margaret murmured.
Rowan gave her a look. “Miss Godwin.”
“Your Grace.”
Emmeline pressed her lips together as though to contain another laugh.
He turned away before the sight could unmake what little order the day still possessed.
The corridor beyond the drawing room was cooler, quieter, and blessedly empty. Rowan drew in one controlled breath and released it slowly. He had work to do. Letters waited. Accounts required signatures.
Then he passed the library, and stopped.
A small voice came from within, barely above a murmur.
Rowan stood just beyond the open door, his hand tightening once around the gloves.
Aaron sat on the rug near the low shelves by the window, a book open across his knees, Biscuit curled heavily against his side with one paw resting on the boy’s leg. The puppy’s eyes were shut. His ears twitched now and then as if even in sleep he considered himself part of the story.
Aaron’s lips moved as he read.
“Th-the ship… struck the r-rocks at d-dawn, and C-Captain M-Morley…” He stopped, swallowed, then tried again in a whisper. “Captain M-Morley ordered the m-men to lower the boats.”
Rowan did not move.
He had heard Aaron recite prayers and answer tutors in clipped, fearful fragments. But this was different. The boy was reading because he wished to, despite the stumbling.
Biscuit shifted, pressing closer, and Aaron’s free hand dropped automatically into the puppy’s fur.
“Captain Morley,” Aaron whispered again, more steadily this time, “ordered the men to lower the boats.”
Rowan stepped into the room.
Aaron looked up at once.
The color left his face so quickly that Rowan felt it like a blow. The book dipped in his lap. His fingers tightened in Biscuit’s fur, waking the puppy just enough for him to open one eye, decide no emergency required his intervention, and close it again.
“I d-did not know you were there,” Aaron said.
“No,” Rowan replied. His own voice sounded too formal for the room, so he forced it lower. “I did not mean to startle you.”
