Page 49 of The Widow's Scandalous Gentleman
His gaze lingered briefly on Thalia, who remained still at the edge of the room, silent witness to all.
“I have seen what it is to live by purpose,” he finished softly. “And I will not forget it.”
No one spoke immediately.
Outside, the wind brushed against the panes, soft as breath.
And within, in that muted hush, the weight of testimony settled not as a burden, but as truth.
Chapter Twenty
Lady Thalia Greaves stood beside the carriage that would convey her to Vexwood Hall, gloved hands clasped neatly in front of her. The crisp morning sharpened every sound—the sea air was brisk, the wind brisker still—and yet it was not the weather that made her still. Beneath her composed exterior, thought and memory moved in quiet tumult.
She had not requested an audience. But following the testimonies so candidly delivered by the residents the day before, and a long, private discussion between the Duke and Lady Margaret, the invitation had come.
Not a summons. Not a command.
But a decision.
After withdrawing to confer in private for the better part of the afternoon, the Vexley siblings had returned with a measured announcement: their initial assessment of Seacliff Retreat—as a romanticised folly at best, a financial liability at worst—had been incorrect. They now recognised its purpose, its dignity, and above all, its potential. What had once been viewed as a complicated estate was, in truth, a community—one that deserved protection, not polite dismissal.
The Duke of Vexwood had spoken first, grave but certain: Vexwood would lend its name to the Retreat’s restoration. Margaret had added what was perhaps more important—that they would also lend their influence. The scandal would be addressed directly. A gathering would be hosted at Vexwood Hall: a celebration of artistic merit and civic purpose. Its guest list would include patrons, parliamentarians, publishers. A night arranged not for apology, but for exposure. For vindication.
Thalia, they had said, must be there. And so must those who had brought the Retreat to life.
The Duke, Lady Margaret and Lady Thornfield had departed at first light, travelling ahead to ready Vexwood Hall for what was to come.
And now, Thalia would travel to Vexwood—not to beg for clemency, but to represent the establishment in full. Not as a supplicant, but as a steward. She told herself that distinction mattered.
Behind her, the household stirred faintly. Suitcases had reappeared—this time with deliberation, not defeat. Conversations were hushed still, but not hopeless.
She had not yet told the residents what Vexwood promised—at least not in detail. Hope, she had learned, must never be given prematurely.
Miss Violet Ashworth approached, a deep blue shawl wrapped close against the sea wind. Her step was even, her gaze sharper than the breeze.
“My dear,” she said, voice low but steady, “I trust your composure more than I trust their reception. But are you certain this is the right course?”
Thalia offered her a brief smile. “Certain? No. But necessity rarely waits for certainty.”
“The Vexleys may be principled, but they are not naïve,” Violet said, glancing past the hedgerows as if Vexwood might appear with enough resolve. “They are strategists. And if you arrive bearing only sentiment, they may hand you a very graceful dismissal.”
Thalia did not flinch. “Then I must bring more than sentiment.”
From within the house came the creak of trunks, the click of latches. The Retreat had not been saved yet. But the terms of its defence had changed.
Footsteps approached from the house, and Lord Jasper Vexley emerged, freshly dressed for travel, his expression composed but shaded with restraint.
He stopped before her and offered a shallow bow. “Lady Greaves.”
“Lord Jasper.”
They had not spoken privately since the arrival of the messengers. There had been too much else to manage, and perhaps too little left to say.
“I hope you will allow me to accompany you,” he said. “Not in any official sense,” he added, his tone wry, “but as someone familiar with the corridors into which you are soon to step. I know which ones end in walls.”
Thalia regarded him for a long moment. It would be easier to refuse. But it would not be wiser.
“I would welcome your insight,” she said simply.
