Chapter 5
Cedric arrived twenty minutes later.
He expected a baby.
Instead he found me.
The engagement reception had emptied.
No music.
No champagne.
No applause.
Only Cedric Ainsworth walking into a conservatory where the antique carriage still stood beside the gift table.
Empty.
He looked at it.
Then at me.
“Where is Eudora?”
“Upstairs.”
“And the child?”
“With his mother.”
His expression tightened.
Not surprise.
Annoyance.
That told me enough.
“You knew Verity was alive.”
He frowned.
“Of course.”
“You knew she believed her son died.”
Silence.
“Of course,” I repeated for him.
He exhaled.
“Oswin, this is ugly because you’re seeing the middle of it.”
I almost smiled.
“I’m fascinated by the beginning.”
Cedric lowered his voice.
Lenora’s marriage had stabilized a twenty-year feud between the Ainsworths and Vales.
Their son was celebrated as the first child carrying both lines.
When the infant died, Cedric feared old men would interpret it as omen.
Weakness.
A union without future.
I stared.
“You stole a newborn because old men believe in omens?”
“Don’t reduce it.”
“I’m trying to find a version large enough to justify it.”
He bristled.
“Families have collapsed over less.”
“Then let them.”
That surprised him.
There.
Cedric would sacrifice almost anyone to preserve structure.
I would rather break structure than hand it a child.
He tried another angle.
“Verity is widowed.”
“Yes.”
“She has no means to raise a boy in this world.”
“She works.”
“Barely.”
“She has people around her.”
“Servants.”
The word came out before he could soften it.
Again.
Class as permission.
I walked closer.
“You chose her because you believed nobody powerful would object.”
He said nothing.
That was exactly it.
Not random newborn.
Not desperate timing alone.
A mother positioned low enough in household hierarchy that stealing from her could be narrated as solving two problems at once.
Lenora receives a son.
Verity receives compensation.
Everyone wins.
Except the person whose child is gone.
Cedric finally said:
“I would have provided for her.”
I looked toward the carriage.
“How much does a mother cost?”
His jaw tightened.
No answer.
Good.
Then I asked:
“Did Adrian Vale ever demand a son?”
Cedric hesitated.
Interesting.
“Did he?”
“No.”
May you like
There it was.
This entire atrocity had been built to satisfy a pressure no one had actually applied.
