I commanded men to their deaths without hesitation, but Madeleine's restless fingers on my ledger make me pause. In this gaslit study her family's name rests between us, and one word from me could send her into disgrace. She knows it. I know it. Her reputation and my isolation both stand to shatter if she steps any closer.
The same command that once rallied troops now hangs in the air between us, waiting for her to lift her skirts or condemn herself. Yet when I tell her to prepare herself, her obedience comes slow, edged with that defiance I intend to break across my desk. The scar on my forearm throbs as I watch her delay, knowing each hesitation invites the discipline she both fears and craves.
