“Silence, St. Laurent.” Cedric’s voice echoed, a boom that brought silence from the study. “Emily is here. Behave, you hear me?”
Simkins opened the door and Cedric stepped inside, Emily leaning against him. Godric was at the back of the study, facing the window with his back to them, the night outside was inky black. One candle lit the room.
“Help me to the couch,” said Emily. “Then leave us.”
“I’m staying, Emily.”
She stroked his face as she had Charles’s. “Thank you, Cedric, but I will be fine.”
He bent to kiss the top of her head before retreating. Simkins shut the door from the outside.
An agonizing moment of silence followed—Godric at the window, she on the couch, both still as statues. Could she make him understand that she hadn’t betrayed him?
“Godric,” she breathed.
Slowly
