Page 32 of The Widow's Scandalous Gentleman
Jasper nodded, eyes still lowered. “Yes. And they are not finished.”
Thalia shifted slightly in her seat. “Sir Edmund’s presence changed something. However slightly.”
“He did not denounce you,” Iris allowed. “In this household, that currently qualifies as affection.”
“He did more than that,” Jasper said. He straightened, speaking now with careful precision. “He asked questions. Real ones. Not rhetorical traps. He looked at Miss Ashworth—not through her.”
Violet coloured slightly but did not object.
Iris narrowed her eyes at Thalia. “You think he might help.”
Thalia met her gaze. “I think he might try.”
Before another word could be spoken, the butler appeared at the door.
“Pardon the interruption, my lady,” Hopkins said, bowing first to Thalia and then to Lord Jasper, “but Sir Edmund requests a private audience. He has returned and is waiting in the small parlour.”
Thalia stood at once, smoothing her skirts with a swift movement born less of vanity than of habit. “Very well. Please have tea sent there.”
Hopkins inclined his head. “At once, my lady.”
As he disappeared, Aunt Iris fluttered a hand in dismissal. “Go and hear what he has to say, darling. But if he proposes anything odious involving ‘respectability,’ blink once, and I shall invent a scandal so large it distracts theTonfor a fortnight.”
Thalia arched a brow. “What sort of scandal?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Something French. And deeply musical.”
Cassandra squawked approvingly.
Jasper rose and offered his arm. Thalia took it without hesitation, and together, they departed the morning room—leaving behind the murmuring stillness of company accustomed to waiting, but not quietly.
The small parlour was quiet, its windows opened just enough to admit the salt breeze from the nearby sea. Sir Edmund Thornwick stood at one of those windows, his hands clasped behind his back, the picture of reluctant duty. He turned as Thalia and Lord Jasper entered, and gave a courteous incline of the head.
“My lady. My lord.” His tone was formal, but not unfriendly.
“Sir Edmund,” Thalia greeted, with the crisp grace of a woman determined to maintain her ground. “I hope you bring heartening news.”
A faint smile touched his lips. “That, Lady Greaves, may rather depend upon how one chooses to hear it.”
Hopkins entered just then, setting the tea tray down with practised efficiency before withdrawing without a word. Jasper moved to pour, his gestures practised, deliberate.
Sir Edmund declined a cup with a small shake of the head and gestured instead toward the two armchairs near the hearth. “May I speak candidly?”
“That would be a refreshing novelty,” Jasper murmured.
Thalia seated herself. “Please.”
Sir Edmund sat across from her and exhaled, as though laying down a burden.
“You have built something here,” he said slowly. “Something unusual. And — I believe — something worthy. What I saw the other evening during your salon was more than artistic display. It was community. Civility. Care. And courage.”
Thalia said nothing, though her gaze did not waver. Jasper glanced at her briefly, then looked back to Sir Edmund.
“I do not say that lightly,” the magistrate continued. “Nor am I unaware of how little such qualities weigh against the blunt instruments of law and family interest.”
Jasper’s voice was quiet, steady. “Then, may I ask what brings you back to us today?”
Sir Edmund hesitated, then leaned forward with the air of a man weighing each word carefully.
