Blanche opened the door… And stopped.
Lord Gooldwer stood on the threshold.
He looked gaunt and nervous, twisting his hat in his hands like a man at the gallows.
“Blanche,” he said gently, “may I come in?”
She didn’t answer immediately.
Behind her, Fanny had entered the hall.
“I know I’ve lost your trust,” Lord Gooldwer continued, his voice low. “I know I broke things. I just… I need to say I’m sorry. And not because I need anything. Not now.”
Blanche stared at him for a moment longer, then stepped aside.
He entered the parlor like a man stepping onto a ship that might not sail.
“I know what I did,” he said. “I deserve your anger. I deserve your silence. But I thought… if there was any way back to you, it started here.”
Blanche didn’t sit. She stood before the hearth, one hand wrapped around the edge of the mantel.
“You left us,” she said. “You abandoned every promise. And now you want to offer words and call it reparation.”
“I’ve changed.”
“You’ve run out of excuses,” she corrected. “That’s not the same.”
Lord Gooldwer opened his mouth.
“But more than that,” she went on, her voice steady now. “I don’t trust that you’re not here for something else. You know who my husband is. You know what a title likeduchessmight mean to a man in need.”
He flinched. “That’s not fair.”
“It’s the truth,” she said quietly.
“I never asked His Grace for money.”
“You didn’t have to. You let me believe you came back forme.”
“So what now?” he asked.
Blanche took a slow breath. She looked to Fanny, then back at him.
“You are no longer part of this household,” she said. “Not until you earn your place. Not until each of us—not justme—believes you’ve returned because wematter, not because we’re convenient.”
“And if I try?” His voice cracked. “If I stay and try?”
“Then try,” said another voice from the doorway.
Lady Gooldwer entered, regal in her powder-blue dressing gown and a string of pearls that suggested war readiness more than style.
She looked at Lord Gooldwer with cold eyes that still remembered too much.
“I never expected greatness from you, Lord Gooldwer,” she said. “Charm, maybe. Good fortune. But never greatness. Still, I never imagined you’d steal from your daughters for a woman who couldn’t pronounce ‘linoleum.’”
“Kate—”
“No,” she cut him off. “You want to be a father? Learn how to speak to us like people. Learn how to listen without lying. Earn our names back, one at a time.”
