“It is not up for debate.” Heath’s tone was firm, his authority absolute.
Blanche swallowed, stunned. Lady Gooldwer, however, appeared far from horrified. In fact, her entire posture lifted with unmistakable relief.
“Quite right,” she declared, nodding approvingly. “We are entitled to it, after all.”
Blanche exhaled sharply, willing herself not to groan aloud.
“Our household has suffered terribly,” Lady Gooldwer continued, adopting a wounded air. “Even the pugs have been forced into lesser accommodations—why, the poor dears have been utterly miserable.”
Silence stretched between them.
Blanche refused to meet Heath’s gaze, already knowing that his amusement was barely concealed beneath his otherwise composed exterior.
Fanny, meanwhile, pressed a hand to her mouth, masking a laugh.
Blanche inhaled, steadying herself.
But Lady Gooldwer, ever eager to shift the blame for their misfortunes, exhaled dramatically. “If only my husband had not abandoned us to ruin, we would not have to rely on your benevolence, Your Grace.”
The bitterness in her voice was undeniable—resentment, frustration, wounded pride all tangled into one sharp statement.
Blanche’s jaw tightened.
“Father did not abandon us.” The words came swiftly, a quiet but unwavering defense.
Lady Gooldwer scoffed. “He vanished without care, without word, without provisions for our future! What else would you call it?”
Blanche straightened. “Circumstances may have taken him elsewhere, but I refuse to believe he did so without consideration for us. He would never?—”
She hesitated, sensing the flicker in Heath’s gaze, the way he studied her with measured intensity. As if…
A realization settled over her. He knew something.
And he was choosing—deliberately, consciously—to say nothing.
For the first time, she wondered if the truth was not as simple as she had always believed.
Heath, however, merely exhaled, adjusting the cuff of his sleeve with casual precision. “Regardless,” he murmured, “I am sure he had his reasons. I do not see a point in discussing this further.”
A quiet finality lingered in his tone.
Blanche swallowed but said nothing more.
With matters settled, Heath rose, adjusting his coat with practiced ease. “If we have agreed on everything, I must take my leave. Other obligations await.”
Lady Gooldwer, ever poised, offered parting pleasantries, while Fanny curtsied with effortless grace.
But when Heath turned to Blanche, something shifted—just slightly, just enough for her to catch the flicker of warmth beneath his otherwise composed exterior.
She met his gaze, exhaling softly. “Thank you, Your Grace.”
There was no hesitation in her words—only quiet sincerity. He had saved them from ruin, from the weight of responsibilities too great for them to bear alone.
Heath studied her, lips curling into something dangerously close to amusement.
“Think nothing of it.” His voice was smooth, teasing. “After all, you’ll have every opportunity to repay me once we are wed.”
Blanche stiffened, heat creeping beneath her skin.
