When he finished, the room fell silent. Margaret’s gaze had not left him once during his explanation. She had listened to every word with careful attention, yet something guarded remained in her expression. She drew a quiet breath before speaking.
“I do not believe you,” she said. “After how often you have disappeared, seemingly without reason, I can not.”
There was no cruelty in the statement, only honesty. Nathaniel wished that he had simply told her that he was spending time with Eliza, for she would not believe him if he said so now. Margaret lowered her eyes briefly before lifting them again.
“What I saw was not a rumor or a whisper from someone else. I opened that door myself. I watched it happen.”
“I know.”
“And even if everything you say is true, that does not erase what has already settled in my mind.”
Nathaniel did not interrupt.
“Trust,” Margaret said, her voice steady despite the faint tremor beneath it, “cannot be demanded back simply because someone insists upon it.”
The words were not spoken in anger. They sounded more like a truth she had accepted during the long hours of the night.
Nathaniel held her gaze. After a moment he nodded his head slightly.
“I agree.”
Margaret seemed faintly surprised by the lack of argument. He did not attempt to persuade her further. He did not offer another explanation or press her to reconsider what she had already said.
“You deserve to know that you were chosen.”
Margaret frowned slightly, uncertain what he meant. Nathaniel stepped a little closer, though he stopped well short of touching her.
“Come with me.”
He said it simply, without pressure.
“Come home with me now, and I will explain everything.”
The carriage rolled steadily along the quiet morning road, the wheels crunching softly over gravel before settling into the smoother rhythm of the open lane.
Margaret sat opposite Nathaniel, her hands folded tightly in her lap. The small valise she had packed still rested beside her feet, a quiet reminder of the decision she had already made.
For several minutes, neither of them spoke.
The light filtered through the carriage windows, pale and cool, illuminating the tension that lingered between them. Margaret kept her gaze fixed on the passing hedgerows outside, while Nathaniel seemed to be choosing his words with unusual care.
At last he spoke.
“You should understand something before we arrive.”
Margaret turned slightly toward him but said nothing.
“Miss Arabella Vaughn did not appear in my life recently,” he continued. “I have been assisting her for some time.”
Margaret’s brows drew together faintly.
“Assisting her?”
Nathaniel nodded once.
“In much the same way I once assisted you, though I never once intended for it to go further with her.”
The comparison made her stiffen slightly, though she did not interrupt.
