“He does now.” Rosie’s face brightened. “He didn’t use to, but now he comes to breakfast and walks in the garden, and sometimes he reads stories too. Miss Collard helped him remember how.”
Serena felt her stomach drop. Rosie had meant it as a compliment—had been trying to defend her uncle—but Lady Crane’s expression made clear that she had heard something very different.
“Miss Collard helped him remember,” Lady Crane repeated slowly. “How... interesting. It seems Miss Collard has had quite an influence on this household.”
“She’s wonderful,” Rosie said earnestly, oblivious to the danger. “Uncle Nate smiles more when she’s around. He didn’tuse to smile at all, but now he does. Especially when Miss Collard—”
“That’s enough, Rosie.” Nathaniel’s voice was gentle but firm. “Eat your dinner, sweetheart.”
Rosie subsided, confused by the sudden tension but obedient. Serena kept her eyes fixed on her plate, afraid that if she looked up, she would see the triumph in Lady Crane’s eyes.
“Lord Greystone.” Sir Harold spoke for the first time in several minutes, his voice thoughtful. “I must say, the children do seem well. Better than I expected, given... everything.”
“Thank you, Sir Harold.”
“Eleanor would be pleased.” Sir Harold’s voice softened at the mention of his late sister-in-law. “She always said the children needed stability and love above all else. It seems they have found both here.”
Lady Crane shot her husband a sharp look, but he continued, seemingly oblivious to her displeasure.
“I remember Eleanor telling me once that she chose you as guardian specifically because she knew you would love the children as your own. ‘Nathaniel has a good heart,’ she said. ‘He simply needs the right circumstances to show it.’” Sir Harold smiled, a genuine expression that transformed his florid face. “It seems she was right.”
The table fell silent. Serena saw something flicker in Nathaniel’s expression—surprise, perhaps, or gratitude for this unexpected ally.
“I have tried to honour Eleanor’s trust,” Nathaniel said quietly. “I have not always succeeded, but I have tried.”
“That is evident.” Sir Harold nodded, then turned to his wife. “My dear, perhaps we have been too hasty in our concerns. The children are clearly thriving. The household is well-managed. I see no reason to pursue—”
“We will discuss this later, Harold.” Elspeth’s voice was ice. “In private.”
Sir Harold subsided, but Serena noticed that he did not look entirely cowed. There was something in his expression—doubt, perhaps, or the beginnings of resistance—that had not been there before.
It was a small thing. A tiny crack in the united front that the Cranes had presented.
But small cracks could grow into large fissures, given time.
Chapter Twenty
After dinner, Serena retreated to the library.
She needed space to think, to breathe, to process everything that had happened. Lady Crane’s accusations, Rosie’s innocent revelations, Sir Harold’s unexpected defence—it was all too much, pressing down on her until she felt she might shatter.
She found her usual chair by the window and sank into it, closing her eyes against the firelight.
What was she going to do?
Lady Crane was going to write to a magistrate. Was going to accuse Nathaniel of impropriety, of neglect, of being unfit to raise his own nieces and nephew. And the evidence she would cite—the late-night visits during the storm, the warmth between governess and guardian, Rosie’s innocent observation that Uncle Nate smiled more when Miss Collard was around—all of it pointed to Serena.
She was the problem. She was the weakness that Lady Crane had found and exploited. If she had never come to Greystone Hall, if she had never allowed herself to feel anything for Nathaniel beyond professional respect, none of this would be happening.
The children would be safe.
Nathaniel would be safe.
And Serena would be... where? In another household, teaching another family’s children, maintaining the careful distance she had always maintained before. Alone, yes. Lonely, certainly. But safe in her solitude, protected by the walls she had built around her heart.
Those walls had failed her here. She had let Nathaniel in, had let the children in, had allowed herself to love when she knew—she had always known—that love was dangerous.
And now that danger had arrived, in the form of a sharp-eyed woman with connections and resources and a determination to destroy everything Serena had come to cherish.
