“Ella has always been forthright. It is one of her more admirable qualities.”
“Admirable? She was insolent. Disrespectful. She spoke to me as though I were an enemy rather than a concerned family member.”
“Perhaps because you have given her reason to believe you are an enemy.” Nathaniel leaned back in his chair, meeting Lady Crane’s gaze steadily. “You did not come here for a family visit, Elspeth. We both know that. You came to find fault, to gather evidence, to build a case for removing the children from my care.”
Lady Crane’s smile was thin and sharp. “How perceptive of you.”
“I have had plenty of time to observe your tactics. You were not subtle at the funeral, and you have not been subtle now.”
“Subtlety is overrated.” Lady Crane leaned forward, her eyes glittering. “Let me be direct, Nathaniel. You are not fit to raise these children. You have spent two years hiding in your study, neglecting your responsibilities, leaving three grieving children to the care of servants and a parade of governesses who could not manage them. And now—now that you have finally emerged from your self-imposed exile—you have done so only because you have developed an inappropriate attachment to your current governess.”
Nathaniel felt ice spread through his veins, but he kept his expression carefully blank. “That is a serious accusation.”
“It is an accurate one. I have eyes, Nathaniel. I have seen the way you look at her. I have heard the whispers. I have watched you struggle to maintain distance while every fibre of your being strains toward her.” Lady Crane’s voice dripped with contempt. “You are in love with your governess. And that, combined with your two years of neglect, is more than enough to convince any magistrate that these children would be better off in my care.”
“You have no proof of what you’re saying.”
“I have patterns. I have observations. And mayhap, I have a couple of testimonies too.” Lady Crane rose from her chair, her movements deliberate. “I am writing to Sir Edmund McMillan this evening. He is a magistrate, an old friend of Harold’s, and aman who takes a very dim view of moral impropriety. I expect he will be most interested in what I have to tell him.”
Nathaniel stood as well, his hands clenching at his sides. “You would destroy these children’s lives—uproot them from the only home they have known—because you are angry that my brother’s will did not favour you?”
“I would save these children from a guardian who is unfit and a governess who has forgotten her place.” Lady Crane moved toward the door, then paused. “You have until the end of my visit to set your house in order, Lord Greystone. Dismiss Miss Collard. Demonstrate that you are capable of putting the children’s welfare above your own desires. Do that, and perhaps I will reconsider my letter to Sir Edmund.”
“And if I refuse?”
Lady Crane’s smile was triumphant. “Then I shall see you in court.”
She left, closing the door behind her with a soft click that sounded, to Nathaniel’s ears, like the closing of a trap.
He stood motionless for a long moment, his mind racing through possibilities and contingencies. Elspeth was not bluffing. She had the connections, the resources, the determination to pursue this to the bitter end. And while Nathaniel was confident he had done nothing legally wrong, the court of public opinion was a different matter entirely.
If Elspeth spread rumours of impropriety—if she convinced enough people that his relationship with Serena wasinappropriate—the scandal alone could be enough to damage the children. Even if he won a legal battle, the whispers would follow them. Ella would hear them at her come-out. Samuel would face them at school. Rosie would grow up with the shadow of her uncle’s ‘disgrace’ hanging over her.
He could not let that happen.
But he could not dismiss Serena either. Could not send her away, could not pretend that she meant nothing to him, could not sacrifice her to Lady Crane’s vindictiveness.
There had to be another way.
There had to be.
***
Dinner that evening was a masterpiece of barely concealed hostility.
Lady Crane presided over the table as though she were mistress of the house, her questions pointed and her observations barbed. Sir Harold sat beside her, looking increasingly uncomfortable as his wife’s interrogation grew more aggressive.
The children had been coached—by Serena, by Mrs McConnor, by Nathaniel himself—to answer politely and reveal nothing. But children were children, and Lady Crane was skilled at finding weaknesses.
“Rosie, darling.” Elspeth’s voice was honeyed sweetness. “Tell me about your days here at Greystone Hall. What do you do with Miss Collard?”
Rosie looked up from her plate, her small face uncertain. “We do lessons. And we play in the garden. And Miss Collard reads me stories before bed.”
“How lovely. And does your uncle join you for these activities?”
“Sometimes.” Rosie’s brow furrowed as she tried to remember what she had been told to say. “Uncle Nate is very busy with important papers.”
“I see. So he does not spend much time with you?”
