By morning, the rain had ceased, leaving the air cool and clean as Amelia stood beside the huge bay window of her quarters. She gazed out at the mist curling over the faraway hills, her hand spastically tightening around the warm cup of tea in her hand. The serenity of the moment was illusory, for her mind was far from calm.
Last night had been peculiar. Claude—rubbing her feet. The pressure of his fingers had stayed with her, the heat of his touch searing even now.
It was maddening.
She had spent years learning to tolerate his disinterest, years constructing barriers so high that even the shadow of the love she once had for him could not penetrate.
And yet, here he was, insidiously invading her thoughts when all she wished for was to leave him behind.
A rapid knock at the door startled her from her musings.
"Enter."
The door swung open to show Grace standing in the opening, her features wary but also full of repressed excitement.
"Your Grace…" Grace demurred. "Lady Isolde has left Everthorne Manor."
Amelia's clutch on the cup tightened. "What?
"She departed early this morning," said Grace, drawing closer. "Her carriage was full, and she didn't even request a farewell audience."
Amelia gazed at her, attempting to silence the torrent of feelings surging inside her. "And Claude?"
Grace nibbled her lip. "He was the one who instructed her to leave."
The statement filled Amelia with chills.
He sent her away?
It had never entered her mind. Isolde had spent months draped across Claude's arm, slinking across the manor as if she owned it *hers*. Amelia had supposed she was here by his making—that he desired her here.
But if not… then what had all this been?
Her chest thudded, confusion taking root. She did not know whether to be relieved or angry that she had been left to think otherwise all this while.
Before she could answer, another knock came.
This time the door was opened without her consent.
Claude.
He entered, his presence commanding as ever. His dark eyes met hers, searching, unreadable. He was dressed more plainly today—his waistcoat unbuttoned, his sleeves rolled up, as if he had been too restless to put on his usual armor of propriety.
Grace curtsied quickly. "I shall bring fresh tea, Your Grace."
Before Amelia could prevent it, the maid vanished, leaving the two of them alone.
Silence hung between them.
Claude broke the silence.
"I guess you've heard."
Amelia drew in a deep breath, making herself stay calm. "That you sent her away?" Her tone was icy. "Yes."
His face didn't change. "You thought she was here for me."
Amelia raised her chin. "Was I mistaken?"
Claude took a breath, raking his hand through his hair. "Yes."
That one word stung a swift jolt through her breast.
"Isolde was sent here at the King's command," he went on. "I was given no say in it. But I ought to have explained myself—I ought to have dismissed her earlier."
She disliked how his concession curdled in her belly.
For so long, she had assumed him indifferent. Had assumed that he *desired* Isolde here, parading herself in front of Amelia's own eyes.
Had that never been the truth… then the resentment she had fostered for so long had been based on a misapprehension.
But still, her pride would not permit her to yield so easily.
"You let me think otherwise," she told him, speaking slowly. "You let me assume—"
"I know," Claude cut in. His face clenched. "And it was my fault."
He paused.
He moved closer, his body encircling her like a tempest. "But Isolde was never the issue between us, Amelia."
Her breathing ceased.
Claude's eyes turned black as he gazed at her. "You're the one who's been pushing me away."
She snorted with a bitter laugh. "After *years* of neglect, you suddenly care that I no longer beg for your attention?"
Claude did not blink. "I never wanted you to beg."
"Then what did you want, Claude?"
The question hung in the air between them, weightier than the silence.
Claude's lips opened, but for the first time, he couldn't find the words.
Amelia took a step back, holding onto the window ledge behind her. "You don't get to be angry that I moved on, Claude." Her voice was softer now, but firm. "I had no choice. You made sure of that."
His eyes flashed with something deep—something regretful.
She looked away before he could observe just how shaken up this conversation had left her.
"Is there anything else you had to say?"
There was a long silence.
Finally, Claude sighed, taking a step back. "Not today."
With that, he turned and walked away, leaving Amelia to her own thoughts.
And for the first time in years, she did not know if she was gaining or losing the war with them.