“Agreeing to all of this.”
Her answer came without pause.
“No.”
He felt something ease inside him at that. She studied him a moment longer.
“I do not regret it,” she continued. “I simply do not wish to feel as though I have traded independence for silk.”
“You have not.”
“It feels as though I have.”
“Then let me prove otherwise.”
“How?”
“By reminding you that you are arguing with me in public. You have enough independence to use your words.”
A reluctant laugh escaped her.
“That is not what I meant,” she said.
“It is a start.”
She shook her head slightly.
“You are always so certain.”
“When it comes to this, yes.”
“Why?”
He held her gaze.
“Because I do not make gestures without intention.”
Her expression softened in a way he had not seen before. It was as though she was beginning to see him for the man that he was, and though he could not let her see too much, he found that he did not hate it. A bell chimed faintly from a nearby church tower, breaking the moment.
“I must return,” she said. “The modiste will already be measuring Poppy’s sleeves.”
Margaret smiled properly then. He felt the effect of it with unsettling clarity. She hesitated before turning.
“I am grateful for all of this,” she clarified. “But you are not to surprise me like that again.”
“No. I will not surprise you again.”
She studied him, as though deciding whether to believe that. Frankly speaking, Nathaniel did not know whether or not he was telling the truth. Then she nodded once.
“Margaret,” he said as she turned to leave.
“Yes?”
“I should like you to visit Ravensmere House, have dinner with me.”
She stilled.
“For what purpose?”
