“You have always been decisive,” she said. “Be certain this is not the one matter in which you hesitate.”
He straightened.
“I am not hesitating.”
She looked at him over the rim of her spectacles.
“Then act like it.”
She returned to her accounts, signaling the conversation was over. Nathaniel stood there a moment longer.
The words lingered.
He had believed he could keep the past contained and the present controlled. Arabella was finished. That part was simple.
What was not simple was the way Margaret had begun to matter, the way her quiet presence felt like something he did not want to lose.
He left the room without another word. In the corridor, he paused, aware of the shift in his own thinking. He had different priorities.
Whether he liked it or not.
CHAPTER 22
Ravensmere did not feel like Margaret's home.
Not yet.
She rose before the household stirred, as she had done since arriving. Dawn gave pale light, the estate quiet beneath it. For a few moments she remained seated on the edge of the bed, hands folded in her lap, listening to the distant clatter from the kitchens below.
A title had been placed upon her, and she was still learning how to carry it. By the time she reached the breakfast room, Mrs. Hill was already there with a ledger and a pot of tea.
“You are early again,” the housekeeper observed.
“I prefer to see things before they begin,” Margaret replied.
Mrs. Hill regarded her carefully. Margaret took the seat opposite her.
“You mentioned yesterday that coal deliveries have been inconsistent.”
“They have,” Mrs. Hill said, sliding the ledger across. “The north road has been unreliable since the storms.”
Margaret leaned over the figures, forcing herself to focus. Numbers were steady. Numbers did not look back at her with expectation. Numbers were not theton.
“How many cottages rely on our stores?” she asked.
“Eight directly,” Mrs. Hill answered. “Three more if the weather worsens.”
“Then we increase the order before winter deepens.”
Mrs. Hill’s brows lifted slightly.
“It will not be inexpensive.”
“Warmth rarely is, but I will not compromise on it.”
The housekeeper watched her for a moment longer than necessary, then made a neat notation in the margin.
“Very well. Your Grace, you do know that this is usually for His Grace to–”
