"The pleasure is mine, Viscountess." Redwood's tone shifted slightly — the particular register men used with women they genuinely respected. "You have kept this estate running beautifully. Heartfield is lucky."
"He is," she agreed pleasantly, and somehow it was not arrogance. It was simply a woman who knew her own value and had stopped pretending otherwise.
Then her eyes moved to Viktor.
They softened.
It was the most natural thing in the world — that particular quality of attention a certain kind of woman gives to a young person she has watched grow, that maternal warmth that doesn't ask for anything back and doesn't need to. Her head tilted slightly. Her smile shifted into something quieter.
"Viktor," she said. "How are you, child?"
And that word — 'child' — landed somewhere between his ribs and stayed there.
He held himself very still.
"Well," he said. "Thank you for asking, my lady."
