Cecilia was stunned. Elena’s calm confession lingered between them like cold smoke she couldn’t brush aside. So every utility bill, every leaking roof, every servant’s wage at Rainsworth Manor had been borne by Elena alone. It was profoundly unfair.

“Aunt Elena, I was wrong. Please don’t be angry with me.”

Miranda was no fool. If the accounts truly split, the full burden of running the manor would fall squarely on her shoulders—money, decisions, endless complaints. She could almost feel the coffers draining already.

Elena’s lips curved into a smile that never reached her eyes. “Miranda, you should speak with your father-in-law. If you don’t, I’ll find the time to raise it myself.”

Cornered, Miranda had no choice but to nod. “All right.”

Only then did Elena turn to Cecilia. “Ceci, let’s go back.”

“All right,” Cecilia replied, dipping her chin as her ponytail brushed the collar of her coat.