“Papa said the rules were stupid, too. Ella told me. She said Papa broke all the rules to marry Mama, because he loved her more than he cared what anyone thought.” She paused. “Maybe you could break the rules too.”
Something shifted inside Nathaniel—a crack widening, the light pressing stronger.
Maybe he could.
Maybe, after all this time, he was ready to be brave.
“Rosie,” he said slowly. “Will you keep a secret for me?”
She nodded solemnly.
“I’m going to think about what you said. About breaking the rules. But I need time to work out how to do it properly. Can you give me that time? And can you not say anything to anyone—especially not to Miss Collard—until I have?”
“I can keep a secret,” Rosie said importantly. “I’m very good at secrets. Marianne taught me.”
Nathaniel smiled despite himself. “I’m quite sure she did.”
He rose, lifting Rosie with him and settling her on his hip. She was getting too big for this—she would be six soon—but she nestled against him as she once had, before the accident, before everything changed.
“I love you, Uncle Nate,” she murmured.
“I love you too, sweetheart. More than you know.”
He carried her toward the door, intending to return her to the nursery. But as he stepped into the corridor, he found Miss Collard standing there, her hand raised as though she had been about to knock.
Their eyes met.
Something passed between them—something electric, something significant—and Nathaniel felt his breath catch.
“Miss Collard,” he managed. “I was just returning Rosie to the nursery.”
“I came looking for her.” Miss Collard’s voice was slightly unsteady. “She disappeared during afternoon rest. I was worried.”
“She found her way to my study. We had… a conversation.”
“About what?”
Nathaniel hesitated. Rosie, still perched on his hip, looked between them with interest.
“About rules,” Rosie supplied cheerfully. “And breaking them. And how Papa broke all the rules because he loved Mama.”
Miss Collard’s eyes widened. Her gaze flew to Nathaniel’s face, searching.
“Children say the most interesting things,” Nathaniel said hoarsely. “Do they not, Miss Collard?”
“They do, my lord,” she replied, barely above a whisper. “They certainly do.”
They stood there, Rosie between them, the air thick with what remained unspoken. Nathaniel wanted to speak—to tell her everything—but this was not the moment. Not with a child present. Not without preparation. Not without knowing whether his feelings stood any chance of being returned.
“I should take her back to the nursery,” Miss Collard said at last.
“Yes. Of course.”
Nathaniel transferred Rosie into Miss Collard’s arms, and for a moment—just a moment—their hands brushed. A slight contact, nothing more, yet it sent a shock through him all the same.
Miss Collard felt it too. He saw it in the way her breath caught, the way her eyes darkened, the way she looked quickly away.
“Goodnight, my lord,” she said.
