He blinked, the sound of her voice startling in the silence. “Thank you,” he said, taking the small dish from her fingers. He had no idea what flavor it was—something crimson, so he’d probably like it—but he didn’t care. Other than his name, it was the first word she’d spoken to him in three days.

After another minute or so, however, he was beginning to think that it would be the only word for the next three days as well. Richard did not quite understand how silence could have varying degrees of awkwardness, but this four-person silence was infinitely more awful than the one he’d endured with just his sisters for company. A frigid mantle had come over the room, not of temperature but of mood, and every clink of fork against dish was like the crack of ice.

And then suddenly—thankfully—Marie-Claire spoke. It occurred to Richard that perhaps she was the only one who could. She was the only one who wasn’t playing a role in this macabre farce that had become his life.

“It is good to see you downstairs,” she said to Iris.

“It is good to be down,” Iris said with barely a glance in Marie-Claire’s direction. “I am feeling much better.”

Marie-Claire blinked. “Were you ill?”

Iris took a sip of her tea. “In a manner of speaking.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Richard saw Fleur’s head snap around.

“And are you well now?” he asked, staring at Iris until she was forced to meet his gaze.

“Quite.” She turned her attention back to her toast, then set it down with an oddly deliberate motion. “If you will all forgive me,” she said, rising to her feet.

Richard stood immediately, and this time so too did his sisters.

“You haven’t eaten a thing,” Marie-Claire said.

“I’m afraid my stomach is somewhat unsettled,” Iris replied in a voice that Richard found far too composed. She placed her napkin on the table next to her plate. “It is my understanding that it is a malady common to women in my condition.”

Fleur gasped.

“Shall you wish me joy?” Iris said tonelessly.

Richard realized he couldn’t. He’d got what he wanted—no, not what he wanted, it had never been what he wanted. But he’d got what he asked for. Iris might not be smiling about it, but for all intents and purposes she had just announced her pregnancy. To three people who knew full well it was a lie, but still, she’d signaled that she would do what Richard had demanded of her. He’d won.

But he could not wish her joy.

“Excuse me,” Iris said, exiting the room.

He stood frozen. And then—

“Wait!”