The fabric was finer than Violet cared to admit. Not her choice, not entirely, but well made. The weight was proper, and the sleeve sat cleanly at her wrist. The seams had been adjusted with care, and the fabric shifted against her body with each breath in a way that made the morning feel too real.
Fabric she could understand. Pins, stitches, hems, and fit were honest things. They did what hands made them do.
Connor is completely different.
The thought slipped in before she could stop it.
She thought of his mouth and his dark eyes. Even the way he had looked at her in the training yard, as if he had forgotten every rule he had ever set. If he had set any rules in the first place.
Violet adjusted the cuff with unnecessary care.
“Ye are quite busy with the gown,” Hannah noted.
“It is a gown. It requires attention.”
“Aye,” Hannah said, quieter now. “And ye are giving it enough attention to avoid thinking.”
Violet looked at herself in the small mirror. “Thinking is rarely useful before breakfast.”
“It ispastbreakfast.”
“Ah, I see. That explains why I am suffering.”
Moira stood, brushing her hands down the front of her own gown. “The skirt is sitting well now, me Lady.”
“Thank ye,” Violet said softly.
Moira had been careful all morning, helpful without pressing, warm without claiming any right to Violet’s fear. It made Violet like her more than was safe.
A knock sounded at the door, and a maid stepped in with her eyes lowered. “Me Lady, the bairn is awake and crying.”
Violet turned at once. “I will go.”
Moira stepped forward. “’Tis yer wedding day. Why daenae ye focus on that, andI’lltend him.”
“Nay, I can…” Violet had already taken one step before Hannah’s hand closed gently around her wrist.
“There will be many moments like this now,” Hannah assured her.
The words stopped her more firmly than force would have as John’s cries drifted faintly through the corridor, thin and angry, then softened as Moira hurried out.
Violet stood with her hand in midair, her fingers empty.
There would be many moments like this. A cry from another room. A fever. A fall. A hunger she could not reach before someone else did. A whole life of loving a child whose every pain she could not prevent. She had seen it happen firsthand. For the love of God, she had even been the cause of it.
Her throat tightened.
“That is why I must do this,” she said.
Hannah’s grip loosened. “Marry him?”
Violet looked at the door. John’s cry had faded under Moira’s care. “Stay with John.”
Hannah released her wrist but did not step away. “There are other ways. Aiden and I can take ye home. Ye and the bairn.”
Violet's eyes shifted to her sister. “Connor would never let John leave.”
“Then we would speak to him.”
