The sentencing of this affair felt very final, even if accepting it nobly: a child was not a commitment that would go away any time soon. And that was not to say he didn’t like children, or had not wanted them - in the vague abstract of it, in the safety of “one day” - and that did not mean he had to signal any of it to Charity. But he could admit it to himself, for just one moment more: this was daunting.

And he was not a Gryffindor. But he would get through it, indebted to practicality for forcing progress no matter how much fear one faced it with: practicality required movement. Her dresses were still stored in the carriage. Dresses! How many dresses would such a small thing have? Would they fit in the wardrobe in the spare room? What else would be required to make it a proper girl’s nursery?

(Mercifully, there was already a bed in there, which meant the nap she so desired could be managed well enough.) Evander nodded at her answer and then did the same to the solicitor, forcing a brief smile to his face as he held open the door for her. “Yes, of course. We’ll go - home.”

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