He exhaled quietly.
“The apothecary must remain discreet.”
“He is paid to be.”
His sister sighed, looking at him with tired eyes.
“How long must we remain hidden?”
Nathaniel did not answer immediately.
“Until it is safe,” he said at last.
She looked down at her son.
“Safe from whom?”
He met her gaze.
“From everyone. You know that this is what must be done.”
The words were not dramatic. They were factual. One misstep, one whisper in the wrong drawing room, and everything would unravel. Her life had collapsed loudly enough. Nathaniel would not allow them to be a target once again.
“I am not ashamed,” she said quietly.
“I know. I am not ashamed of you either.”
“Then why must I live as though I am? As though you are?”
“You are not living in shame,” he replied. “You are living in protection.”
She was silent for a moment, looking at a spot of dirt on the floor that had been missed.
“Have you everything you require?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“If anything changes–”
“I will send word.”
He nodded once. She studied him carefully.
“You look as tired as me.”
“I am not.”
“You are.”
He did not argue.
“Does she know?” his sister asked.
He stilled.
“Know what?”
“Where you go.”
