"You also stopped me from being heard."
His eyes met hers. For the first time since she had known him, he had no quick answer.
Matilda continued: "Do you know what Hester will say now?"
"I can guess."
"She will say the premiere was cancelled because I became unstable. Beckham will say the publication stopped because I created confusion. The guests from last night will repeat that a duke noticed me, and suddenly I imagined myself important enough to claim another woman's work."
Robert looked toward the note. "I can correct that with another announcement if necessary."
"And then what? You will tell them which parts of my life they are permitted to believe?"
His jaw tightened. "That is not what I intended."
"I know." Her voice softened, and somehow that made the moment worse. "That is the problem."
Silence filled the parlor. Matilda could hear the faint movement of carriage wheels beyond the window. Robert looked at her as though he had finally understood that good intentions could still leave a bruise no one else saw.
"I thought I was removing the weapon from their hands," he said.
"You removed the instrument from mine."
The words landed between them. Robert lowered his gaze briefly. When he looked up again, the wit was gone; so was the easy confidence.
"You are right."
Matilda had expected resistance, explanation, perhaps even offense. His agreement unsettled her.
"I should have asked," he said.
"Yes."
"I should have trusted that you knew what the concert meant."
"Yes."
"And I did not."
Matilda looked away. The admission mattered; it did not repair anything. Not yet.
Robert took one step closer, then stopped well before propriety or choice could be questioned. "Tell me what you need me to do."