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“Hannah asked that you help her with the twins,” Charlotte said in a short, sharp tone. “She would ask Mother, but…” In the distance, the fight raged on.

“Right.” Beatrice snorted and shook her head. Then she moved to the door, turning back just before stepping through it. “And thank you, Your Grace, for listening to me ramble, if nothing else.” A friendly smile and she was gone.

Charlotte remained in the doorway, watching her sister go, a look on her face that was as suspicious as it was distrusting.

“Charlotte?” Henry prompted. “Is something the matter?”

“Hmm?” Charlotte turned back. “What did she want?”

“Nothing.” Henry exhaled and slumped down in his chair, realizing now that his endeavor to finish his work today was going to be all but impossible. “Just to vent. And apologize.”

“Apologize?” Charlotte walked into the room finally.

“For your parents. I told her it wasn’t her fault, but she seems to think it is. Truly, I feel bad for her.”

“Is that right?” Charlotte smirked as she took the seat Beatrice had just vacated.

“Yes…?” He frowned.

“Where was this sympathy last night?” She raised a knowing eyebrow at him. “And why am I not afforded the same kindness?”

Henry chuckled, feeling himself stir as he so often did when he was alone with his wife. “Because someone has to pay for the hell brought into this household. And I can’t very well do to your sister what I did to you last night now, can I?”

“I would hope not.”

He might have liked to have pushed a little on that. Clearly, Charlotte was trying to bait him, and alone as they were, away from prying eyes and provided a perfect sound barrier, for her parents were still arguing downstairs, it would have been so easy to rise, close the door, and remind his wife that he wasn’t in nearly as good a mood as he pretended.

Alas, he simply did not have the time.

“Was there something you needed?” he asked her.

She stiffened at the question, as if she too had been expecting him to take her. Or perhaps she was just displeased at being so readily dismissed? Either way, he could see it grate on her nerves, and he had no doubt it would be brought up later.

“Yes, actually. I just received word from Miss Jennings—Agnes,” she clarified from the confused look on Henry’s face. “She is hosting a garden party in a few days’ time and would like it if we attended.”

Henry groaned. “Really?”

“You think I’m lying?”

“No, it’s not that. But, well, you know how I feel about forced social engagements.”

“You love them?”

“Very funny,” he said dryly.

“Nonetheless,” she continued rightly. “It has been a while since we’ve been seen out in public together, and I think it will do us good. If nothing else, I get the sense you might need a break from…” she trailed off, letting the bickering downstairs make her point for her.

“Surely, that will be dealt with by then?”

“What’s the matter?” she asked with a sly smile. “You don’t like having my mother stay with us?”

“You know I don’t,” he snapped but then sucked through his teeth. “Sorry, I did not mean to?—”

“Yes, you did,” she shot back, taking the moment and running with it. “And as you know, I don’t care. In fact, I have already told my mother she is free to stay here as long as she desires. Really, it’s the least I can do.”

Henry fixed her with a warning glare. “I hope you are joking.”

“What are you going to do about it?” She leaned forward, holding that stare, letting him see the petulance in her eyes.