At breakfast, Rowan’s chair was empty.
Emmeline saw it the moment she entered and felt the absence like a physical blow, though her face did not change. She had dressed with care that morning, because looking ruined would help no one. Her gown was a soft green, her hair arranged neatly, her cheeks pinched lightly before she came downstairs so that no one would see how little she had slept.
Aaron sat at the table with Biscuit beneath his chair, feeding the puppy bits of toast. Juliet sat opposite him, untouched tea before her, hands folded in her lap, eyes swollen from crying.
Both looked up when Emmeline entered.
“Aunt Juliet cried,” Aaron said at once, his little face pinched with worry.
Juliet closed her eyes. “Aaron.”
“It is all right,” Emmeline said gently, moving to her chair. Her own chest hurt so sharply that kindness felt like pressing on a bruise, but she made herself smile. “Sometimes people cry after long journeys.”
Aaron frowned, studying both of them.
“Where is Father?”
Emmeline’s hand stilled for only a fraction of a second. “He had business.”
Juliet’s gaze dropped to her tea.
Aaron looked disappointed. “He did not say goodbye.”
The simple sentence pressed hard against Emmeline’s already aching heart. She wanted to defend Rowan. She wanted to resent him. She wanted, foolishly, to hear his step in the hall and feel everything repair itself by force of wanting.
Instead, she reached for the toast. “Perhaps we should not sit indoors all morning. Biscuit has been looking very solemn. I believe he requires a walk.”
At the sound of his name, Biscuit emerged from beneath the chair with toast crumbs on his nose and an expression of deep innocence.
Aaron’s face brightened despite himself. “He does.”
Juliet gave Emmeline a grateful look, but the gratitude was edged with guilt. Emmeline could not bear it for long.
They went out after breakfast. The morning was pale and cool, the sky washed with thin clouds. Biscuit darted ahead as thoughentrusted with the safety of the entire party, pausing every few steps to investigate stones, leaves, and suspicious patches of grass.
Aaron chased after him with a laugh that softened the worry on his face. “Biscuit, no! That is not food.”
“Perhaps he is conducting scientific inquiries,” Emmeline called.
“Into dirt?”
“Many gentlemen have built careers on less.”
Aaron laughed properly then, and the sound steadied something in her. This she could do. Whatever had happened with Rowan, whatever cold arrangement now lay between them, she could still love the child who had somehow become hers.
Juliet walked beside her in silence for several moments, twisting her hands.
When Aaron moved farther ahead, with Miss Harrow following close enough to intervene if Biscuit attempted treason, Juliet finally spoke.
“I have ruined things between you,” Juliet whispered. “I am so sorry.”
Emmeline’s breath caught.
The words found the wound too precisely. For a moment, she could not answer. She watched Aaron crouch to untangle Biscuit’s lead from a shrub, his small hands careful, his expression intent. The sight gave her something to hold onto.
“You did not ruin anything,” she said at last. “The difficulty was already there.”
“That is generous, but not honest.”
