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“This east wing houses the family apartments. Your room, His Grace’s, and Lady Thomasin’s are all in this wing.

Lady Thomasin’s room is several doors down from yours.

” They proceeded down a dimly lit hall adorned with tapestries and oil paintings—some depicting the countryside, others capturing scenes of leisure, such as picnics or horseback riding.

Opening the door to Helena’s new room, the housekeeper offered an encouraging smile.

The chamber was far more spacious than both her former rooms in Lancashire and London.

The walls were painted a rich, deep blue, adorned with gilded wallpaper designs of dragonflies and butterflies that seemed almost lifelike.

A canopied bed, framed with curtains of gold brocade, was nestled against the center wall, blanketed with an equally luxurious counterpane.

On another wall, a dainty writing desk and vanity sat near a bay window, through which sunlight streamed, casting the room in a soft, morning haze.

Across from the bed was another door.

“That door leads to His Grace’s chambers,” Ricks answered before Helena could ask.

Helena regarded her quizzically. “We don’t need to share a room?”

Ricks chuckled. “No, Your Grace. It would be quite uncommon if you did.”

“Oh.” Helena’s parents had shared a bed, so she had assumed every married couple did. Now, she felt her body unwind with relief, knowing she wouldn’t be subjected to lying beside Carrivick except for the necessary coupling.

“Mrs. Ricks, would you mind terribly if we continued the tour tomorrow morning? I find myself suddenly exhausted and wish to lie down.”

“Of course, Your Grace. You’ve had a most eventful day. I shall send in your new lady’s maid, Mercy, to prepare you for supper later.” The housekeeper curtsied before gently closing the door behind her.

Finally alone, Helena collapsed face-first onto the bed.

The soft cushions absorbed her fall, and she truly felt the weight of her exhaustion.

Sleep had escaped her the previous night, and she had been awake since yesterday morning.

At least no one would disturb her for the next few hours.

With Carrivick busy and his sister seemingly avoiding her, there was no one who needed her just now.

Helena slithered up to her pillows, shaking off her slippers and nearly tearing her gloves off in the process.

On her left hand, her ring shimmered faintly in the light as she fell asleep, staring at it.

“What do you think of Helena?” Lowen asked Thomasin, who had snuck into his study, already bored of her own room.

Thomasin, seated across from him and thumbing through an old book she’d found on the shelf, replied, “She’s prettier than I expected.”

Lowen, half-focused on reading a proposed bill, couldn’t help but notice the odd tone in his sister’s voice. “Why prettier than you expected? Is that a problem?”

“I thought she'd look like most other women,” she answered, slowly, carefully.

“Speak plainly.”

“She’s beautiful, Lowen.” Thomasin let out a frustrated huff. "Possibly the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. And you’ll pay more attention to her than me—I just know it.”

Lowen set the bill aside and looked up from his paper. Thomasin’s lower lip jutted out sullenly. “That’s what you’re worried about?”

“A little,” she admitted, refusing to meet his eyes and picking at a frayed edge of the page in her book. “I don’t want to be left behind.”

Lowen’s stomach lurched. He was familiar with his sister’s sentiment, he’d felt the same when he was a child. “Thomasin, I’ll have time for both of you, I promise. But remember what I told you: You and Helena need to get along. Try not to behave like you did in the carriage.”

“I didn’t know what else to say!” she snapped, sounding defensive.

“She was trying to be friendly. You could’ve asked her something about herself.”

“I didn’t want to talk to her.”

“Why not?”

Thomasin bit her lip, clearly struggling with something beneath the surface. “Because I don’t know how to talk to her.” She paused, as though reconsidering her words. “She wouldn’t like me anyway because she has to share you with me.”

Lowen felt a flicker of understanding—he had been Thomasin's constant for over a decade, both brother and father in many ways. She had always depended on him, and this shift in his attention was hard for her to process. “That’s not true. Helena will adore you, I promise.”

“She already has a sister. What use would she have of me?”

“The whole point of a family," Lowen said, "is for it to grow. A growing family means more people to love you — and more people for you to love back.”

“Is that why you married her? Because you love her?” Thomasin asked, suddenly more direct.

Lowen chose not to answer, knowing it was the safer option. His sister was caught between childhood and womanhood, unsure of how to deal with emotions she hadn’t yet learned to express. In moments like this, she was both child and adult, a confusing mix he couldn’t fully navigate.

She pressed on. “Or did you marry her because she’s beautiful, or because you thought she was... interesting?” asking in mock innocence, as if she already knew the answer but wanted him to confirm it.

“Multiple things can be true at the same time,” Lowen sighed, rubbing his temple slightly.

He knew little about Helena beyond his own base attraction to her.

It was easier to believe he had married her out of some noble sense of duty—and for everyone else to think it was a romance years in the making.

“Really? Because of what I’ve heard about Helena?—”

“Never mind what you’ve heard,” Lowen interrupted sharply.

Thomasin jumped at the unexpected outburst. He took a deep breath, softening his tone.

“Helena is your sister now. She deserves the same respect and protection as anyone else under this roof. Gossip has no place here, and I won’t allow it.

London is full of it, and if you’re not careful about who you listen to, it’ll cloud your judgment.

There will always be those who try to undermine or spread rumors, especially about people in our position. ”

He suspected Thomasin had heard some of the rumors about Helena.

They were too much for her young ears, and Lowen was determined to put a stop to them.

He would rip them out, root and stem, until no one dared utter another word about Helena.

He would not let Thomasin endure the cruel whispers about her new sister behind her back.

Thomasin chewed on her lip, and for a moment, Lowen thought she might cry. But she lowered her chin and meekly apologized. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

Lowen sighed again, his shoulders sagging. “I’m sorry if I was too harsh. Just... don’t pay any mind to gossip, Thomasin. It’s cruel.”

“So, do you like her?” His sister asked, cocking her head.

“I do.” The sincerity in his answer surprised him. Lowen realized he truly meant it, and that brought him a measure of calm. It was a relief to know that, at least in this moment, he did feel something genuine for Helena.

“That’s good,” Thomasin said quietly. “I will make an effort with her.”

“I’m pleased to hear that,” replied Lowen, slightly more relieved. “Why don’t you take your supper upstairs this evening?”

“Just for tonight,” he added quickly, when Thomasin began to protest. “I should like to have my first meal with my new wife alone.”

“See? You’re already paying more attention to her than to me!”

“It’s just for tonight.”

“Fine,” Thomasin bit out. She gave her hair an exaggerated toss. “And what does my compliance earn me?”

“I’ll tell Cook to bring you an extra dessert,” Lowen replied with an amused smile.

“A big piece, if you will,” she quipped, hopping off the chair without bothering to return the book she’d found to its rightful place.

“As the lady commands,” he said, watching her storm out of his study with a little more force than necessary.