His patterns had protected Eliza. They had protected Margaret when the scandal first threatened her. Silence had solved more problems than honesty ever could.
Yet Margaret did not seem to fear what he might hide. She feared horses because they could act without warning, without reason that could be understood or negotiated. With him, she assumed reason existed, that he would speak if something mattered enough.
Nathaniel had not realized until that moment how rare such faith was. It unsettled him more than his anger had earlier that afternoon, because trust, once given, carried expectation. And expectation led easily into the territory he had sworn to avoid.
Attachment.
He had promised himself distance. It protected everyone, and it prevented mistakes that could not be undone.
Yet standing in the dim stable beside a woman who believed he would always explain himself, Nathaniel felt the first quiet fracture in that certainty.
And he was not entirely certain he wished to repair it.
CHAPTER 26
The invitation to the Havisham ball had arrived two days before Nathaniel made his decision.
Nathaniel had intended to decline it. Balls held little appeal for him under ordinary circumstances, and even less now that his marriage had provided society with endless speculation. Yet as he sat in his study that afternoon, the card still resting unopened beside the correspondence he had already answered, a different thought had taken hold.
Margaret had not attended anything since the wedding. He had kept his distance, just as he promised. She had kept her composure in turn. Their lives had settled into an orderly rhythm.
Too orderly.
Which was why, when she entered the parlor room that evening for tea, he surprised them both.
“Will you attend a ball with me tomorrow night?”
Margaret paused halfway through lifting the teapot. He was pleased that she had not yet begun to pour it, lest their tablecloth be stained.
“A ball?”
“Yes.”
She studied him carefully.
“That is not entirely wise given what happened at the last one.”
“No. No, it may not be.”
“Then why go?”
Nathaniel met her gaze evenly.
“Because we should be seen. I am not ashamed of what happened, Margaret, and I am certainly not ashamed to be your husband.”
That explanation satisfied her, and he delighted in the way she could not say anything further. Margaret hesitated only briefly.
“Very well,” she said.
The ballroom was already alive when they arrived. Music spilled from the orchestra balcony, strings rising above the low hum of conversation. Chandeliers burned bright overhead, scattering light across polished floors and silks in every shade. Margaret wore deep green, his favorite, and he wore the same shade to match her.
Their entrance did not go unnoticed.
Heads turned almost immediately. Conversations softened. Fans lifted. The Duke and Duchess of Ravensmere had not yet appeared together in public since the wedding. Nathaniel felt the attention but did not acknowledge it. Instead, he offered Margaret his arm, and she accepted it.
“Shall we endure it together?” he murmured.
Her lips curved faintly.
