"She's settled," he said quietly. "Sophia had woken just as I arrived upstairs. Abigail brought Emmeline into the library, Sophia is sitting with them. I didn't press her for anything else."
Nathaniel nodded his thanks and gestured to the chair across from him. Philip crossed to the bar cart first, poured two tall glasses of whisky, handed one to his father, and then sat down, running a hand through his hair.
For a long moment, neither spoke.
At last, Nathaniel said, "I don't know how to tell your mother. Or Abigail. I've never felt less prepared for anything in my life."
Philip exhaled, leaning forward. "We'll have to. Sooner rather than later."
"Yes," Nathaniel agreed slowly. "And Sophia should be there as well. She has a right to know—Charlotte's schemes touched her as well. Charlotte tried to trap you—lied about losing your child, tried to force a marriage. Jasper believed it all. She deserves to hear the truth."
Philip rubbed a hand across his weary face. "Sophia is already aware of Charlotte's deceit, Father. While the full truth is never pleasant, it won't be a fresh wound for her now, given her condition."
"I find myself unprepared to have this conversation just now," Nathaniel said, his voice weary. "Shall we speak with them tomorrow evening?"
Philip nodded.
The silence stretched again. The hearth crackled.
"She's barely herself again—certainly not the Abigail she was before he married her," Philip said quietly. "Her words are still rare, only really spoken softly to Emmeline. With the rest of us, she offers little beyond a yes or no answer. I fear her seeing him again—hearing his voice—may unravel what little progress she's made."
"She might retreat," Nathaniel finished, voice low. "Back to where she was when we brought her home from Greystone. From the place he left her."
Philip nodded grimly. "Jasper's revenge was thorough. He broke her heart... and so much more."
Midday the following day, Nathaniel and Philip sat on opposite sides of the study desk, poring over accounting reports. A firmknock broke their focus. The butler entered, carrying a sealed envelope on a silver tray.
Nathaniel took it, recognizing the handwriting even before unfolding the paper.
Lord Nathaniel—
You said we would all speak again. You said there would be a time.
I am writing now to ask that the time come soon. I know I have no right to demand anything—but I beg you, grant me the chance to speak with her.
She deserves the truth. More than anyone, she deserves to hear it from me—what happened, and why. She deserves my apology, offered to her directly, not through whispers or second-hand accounts.
I would kneel, beg, endure whatever wrath you see fit if only she might hear the words from my own lips.
As you know, I have leased a house nearby. I've included the address below should it be needed.
Please—do not wait too long. I may not deserve forgiveness, but I would endure any punishment if it means she hears me say the words myself.
—Jasper Finch
Nathaniel folded the letter and placed it on his desk.
"It's from him," he said. "He wants to see her. Soon."
Philip's jaw tensed. "Then we need to speak with Mother and Sophia sooner than we planned."
They exited the office and made their way to the morning room. Nathaniel asked a passing footman to summon Grace and Sophia and have them meet them there.
Sophia came first, summoned from the library where she'd dozed off mid-reading, her pregnancy still draining her energy. Grace followed shortly after, her eyes scanning Nathaniel's facewith concern.Both women took seats beside their respective husbands.
"What's happened?" Grace asked at once. "You look as though you've just heard dreadful news."
Nathaniel hesitated only a breath. Then, simply: "Jasper was here yesterday."
