Mother…?
Her mind struggled to reconcile the statement with everything she knew, everything she had seen, everything Gabriel had never spoken aloud. The foyer suddenly felt too large, too cold, too still.
Helen Warring stepped forward another pace, her expression shifting, not angry, not emotional, but resolute. And then she spoke again.
“I have come to reclaim the children who were stolen from me.”
The house felt unnaturally quiet after the departure of the guests, as though Anderton Manor itself had exhaled after holding its breath all evening. Candles still burned in the corridors, though fewer servants moved through them now, their footsteps hushed and uncertain.
Amelia stood in Gabriel’s study beside Valerie, her hands clasped tightly in front of her as she tried to steady her thoughts. The events of the night still churned inside her: HelenWarring’s arrival, the words spoken in the foyer, and the sudden unraveling of everything she thought she understood.
None of it feels real, and yet all of it has happened.
Gabriel stood near the desk, rigid and controlled, but Amelia could see the strain in the line of his shoulders.
“I did not know she was alive,” he said, his voice low and clipped as he looked between Amelia and Valerie. “Lady Provie informed me earlier that Helen Warring intended to come to Anderton, but I had no reason to believe she would appear this evening. I was still dealing with the shock of it all.”
He exhaled sharply, as though still processing the interruption to his carefully ordered world. “I assumed it was nothing more than a warning or a rumor.”
Amelia frowned slightly, the pieces beginning to fall into place in her mind.
“So that is why you were arguing with your aunt,” she said quietly, recalling the tension she had witnessed earlier in the ballroom.
Gabriel gave a short, humorless nod. “She neglected to mention timing,” he replied.
Valerie shifted uncomfortably in her chair, her pale hands twisting in her lap. The name Helen Warring had clearlyunsettled her too, but she said nothing. She was her mother after all.
Amelia hesitated before speaking again, her voice softer now. “I thought… I was told she had passed away.”
The words felt heavy as she said them, as though speaking them aloud might make them truer.
Valerie’s head lifted sharply at that, her expression flickering with confusion and disbelief.
Gabriel’s jaw tightened immediately, his gaze darkening as he looked away for a brief moment. “That,” he said quietly, “is what we were all led to believe: that she had drowned. That she was gone.” He paused. “It appears that was a lie.”
The silence that followed was suffocating.
Amelia felt something cold settle in her chest.
A lie… all this time.
She thought of David asleep upstairs, of Valerie’s guarded expressions, of the years of absence that had shaped their lives. Her instincts shifted immediately from shock to urgency. “Excuse me, I shall return.” She turned and left the study.
She moved quickly through the corridor, skirts brushing against polished wood as she made her way upstairs. Her thoughts raced ahead of her feet.David.
The name repeated itself in her mind like a warning bell. When she reached the nursery door, she pushed it open carefully and stepped inside.
David was still asleep, just as she had left him earlier. His small face was peaceful beneath the soft lamplight, untouched by the chaos unfolding elsewhere in the house. Relief washed through her, sharp and immediate. She crossed the room and knelt beside his bed for a brief moment, watching his steady breathing.
Not yet. He does not need this yet.
Turning, she moved to the door and opened it wider. Several maids were already nearby, drawn by her urgency.
“Trixie,” Amelia said firmly, catching the young maid’s attention, “and all of you, you will remain here outside this room.”
Trixie blinked in surprise but nodded quickly.
Amelia’s tone softened slightly, though her authority remained firm. “No one enters except the Duke, Valerie, or me. And if David wakes, you do not allow him to leave. Do you understand?”
