“My lord?” She kept her voice composed, professional. “You wished to see me?”
He turned then, and she saw his face: the set of his jaw, the shadows beneath his eyes, the careful blankness he had assumed. This was not the man who had taken her hand in the garden and spoken of love. This was Lord Greystone—Marquess of Greystone—addressing an employee.
“Miss Collard. Thank you for coming.” His tone matched hers—measured, impersonal. “Please, be seated.”
Miss Collard. Not Serena. Not even the softened formality they had adopted gradually over the past weeks.
Serena sat, folding her hands in her lap to still their trembling. “What has happened?”
He crossed to his desk and took up a letter, extending it toward her. “This arrived in the morning post. I believe you should read it.”
She accepted it, her fingers brushing his briefly—and felt him withdraw at once.
That small, involuntary retreat told her more than any explanation could have. Whatever this letter contained, it had driven him back behind walls she had believed—had hoped—were finally lowering.
She read in silence, her heart sinking line by line.
Elspeth Crane. A visit. Troubling reports. Concerns for the children’s welfare.
When she finished, she looked up. Nathaniel was watching her closely, his expression unreadable.
“I see,” she said quietly. “This is... concerning.”
“‘Concerning’ scarcely does it justice.” He took the chair opposite her, sitting heavily. “Lady Crane—Elspeth—has been waiting for an opportunity like this for two years. She never reconciled herself to Edward’s will. She has always believed the children ought to be with family. With her.”
Serena’s stomach clenched. “What does she hope to find?”
“Neglect. Incompetence.” A pause. “Impropriety.”
The word settled heavily between them.
Serena understood at once. Understood the formality, the restraint, the deliberate distance.
“You are concerned about us,” she said softly. “About how our… understanding… might appear.”
Nathaniel was silent for a moment before answering, his voice roughened by effort.
“What I feel for you has not altered. Not in the least. What I said in the garden was no impulse—I meant every word. But the children must come first. They must.”
“I would never expect otherwise—”
“If Lady Crane perceives anything improper—anything that might be construed as distraction or misjudgement—she will seize upon it.” He leaned forward. “She could take them, Serena. With sufficient influence and the right arguments, she could succeed.”
The words struck her breathless.
Take them.
“No,” she whispered. “She cannot—the will—”
“Can be contested. Guardianship can be reassigned if a court is persuaded that the arrangement is unsound.” His voice hardened. “Elspeth has influence. Connections. She would not hesitate to use them.”
Serena absorbed this in silence, the enormity of it settling heavily upon her. Everything they had laboured toward—the children’s healing, the fragile stability of the household, the tentative hope she had barely allowed herself to acknowledge—was suddenly under threat.
“What do you need me to do?” she asked at last.
Nathaniel met her gaze, and she saw the strain beneath his composure.
“I need you to help me give her nothing. No cause for suspicion. No hint that anything exists between us beyond the ordinary relation of employer and governess.”
