Chapter 30
Nathaniel found the letter waiting for him.
He had not wanted to go to bed that night, but Margaret had made it clear that she needed time and he wished to give it to her.
A servant had taken his coat, another had mentioned that the duchess had retired early, and Nathaniel had thought little of it at the time.
The evening had been long, the aftermath of the ball longer still, and the exhaustion in his bones had made him careless.
It was only when he stepped into her room the following morning, hoping to speak with her, that he saw the folded paper placed squarely at the center of the desk that something in his chest tightened.
Margaret’s handwriting was unmistakable. He broke the seal. At first he read quickly, expecting something small, perhaps a note about the household, or a message explaining some minor matter that required his attention, but the further his eyes moved down the page, the slower he read.
Then he read it again. Each line struck with quiet precision.
There were no accusations in the letter, no anger written between the words.
Instead Margaret thanked him for his protection, for preserving her dignity when she had needed it most, and for securing a future for her sisters that would have otherwise been uncertain.
The gratitude hurt more than blame would have.
By the time he reached the end, his hand had tightened around the paper. She would not remain where she had not truly been chosen. For a moment the room felt strangely still, as though the world itself had paused. Then, the meaning settled fully.
Margaret had left. She had felt truly unwanted, and left.
Nathaniel pushed back from the desk so abruptly that it scraped sharply against the floor. The housekeeper passing in the hall turned at the sound, but he was already moving, the letter still clenched in his hand.
“Your Grace?” she called after him.
“Have the stables prepare a horse,” he said without slowing. “Immediately.”
Within minutes, he was riding.
The air was cold and sharp against his face as Ravensmere disappeared behind him, the dark shape of the house shrinking against the horizon. His mind replayed the letter over and over again as the horse carried him down the long road.
She believed she had not been chosen. The realization hit him harder with each mile.
The scene at the ball returned to him with brutal clarity; Arabella’s sudden movement, the feel of her hand on his coat, the unwanted press of her mouth against his neck just as the door had opened. Margaret’s face in the doorway.
He had tried to explain. He had started toward her, but she had already turned away. And now she was gone.
Nathaniel urged the horse faster.
The ride felt endless, though he knew the distance well enough. Fields passed in darkness, hedgerows blurring at the edges of his vision while the first faint gray of morning slowly crept across the sky.
By the time he reached the familiar road leading to Fairleigh House, the sun was warming the air.
The servants were not yet fully awake when he arrived. His horse had barely stopped before he was already dismounting, boots striking the gravel. A startled footman opened the door moments later, clearly unprepared to find the Duke of Ravensmere standing on the threshold.
“I need to speak with Margaret,” Nathaniel said.
The servant hesitated only briefly before bowing and hurrying inside. Nathaniel remained in the entrance hall, the early morning light filtering faintly through the tall windows. Every minute stretched painfully long as the house slowly stirred to life around him.
At last, Lady Fairleigh appeared. Her expression was calm but guarded as she approached him.
“Your Grace.”
“I would like to speak with Margaret,” Nathaniel said.
Something in his voice must have carried more urgency than he intended, because Lady Fairleigh studied him for a moment before answering.
“She will not come.”
The words landed like a closed door. Nathaniel drew a slow breath.
“I need to explain what she saw.”
Lady Fairleigh did not respond immediately. Instead, she turned her head slightly toward the staircase, where another figure had appeared quietly in the hallway.
Miss Emily.
She had clearly been awake long enough to hear at least part of the conversation. Her gaze moved between them with careful attention before she stepped forward.
“If you will excuse us for a moment, Mama,” she said.
Lady Fairleigh hesitated, then nodded and left them.
Nathaniel watched Emily approach with both confusion and impatience.
Of Margaret’s two sisters, she was the one he knew least. Where Poppy moved through the world with open warmth, Emily possessed a quieter watchfulness that often made people underestimate her.
She stopped a few feet from him.
“I heard what happened,” she said plainly.
Nathaniel did not bother pretending otherwise.
“Then you know why I am here.”
“I know what Margaret believes she saw.”
“And you?” he asked.
Emily studied him carefully, as though weighing every detail of his expression. To his surprise, she did not look angry.
“She told Mama everything this morning,” Emily said. “About the ball. About the library.”
Nathaniel waited. After a moment she nodded slowly.
“If you claim that you are innocent, I will believe you.”
The words caught him off guard. Emily crossed her arms lightly.
“Arabella has always enjoyed creating situations that make other people look foolish. Margaret does not see that yet.”
Nathaniel exhaled quietly for the first time since arriving. Emily tilted her head toward the staircase.
“I will bring her,” she said.
Then she turned and disappeared up the stairs.
She returned sooner than Nathaniel expected.
He had been standing near the window, watching the pale morning light gather slowly over the gardens.
The quiet of the house felt heavier now that the first rush of urgency had passed.
Margaret was somewhere above him, only a few rooms away, and yet the distance between them felt far greater than the miles he had ridden.
Footsteps sounded on the staircase. Nathaniel turned.
Margaret descended slowly, one hand resting lightly against the banister.
She had changed from the gown she must have arrived in earlier that morning; now she wore a simple day dress, her hair loosely gathered back.
There were shadows beneath her eyes that had not been there the last time he saw her.
Emily paused halfway down the stairs, watching them both for a moment before quietly stepping aside.
Margaret stopped at the bottom step. For several seconds neither of them spoke.
The silence was not hostile, but it was not comfortable either.
It held the weight of everything that had happened between them.
“What you saw last night was not how it seemed,” he said helplessly.
Margaret did not move. Her hands were clasped loosely in front of her, her expression composed but distant.
“She pulled me into that room under the pretense that my sister needed me,” Nathaniel continued. “I had already refused her once that evening. I made it very clear that whatever existed between us in the past was finished.”
His voice remained steady, controlled, but there was no effort to disguise the bluntness of his words.
“When she realized I would not change my mind, she tried something else,” he explained as his jaw tightened slightly at the memory. “She grabbed my sleeve and warned me that my marriage was already precarious in the eyes of society. Then she looked past me toward the door.”
Margaret’s gaze flickered briefly at that, but she said nothing. Nathaniel met her eyes directly.
“She jumped forward and kissed my neck because she knew you were there.”
The words hung in the air between them.
“I did not return it,” he said. “I did not invite it, and I ended it the moment I understood what she had done.”
Margaret listened without interrupting. Her face remained calm, though the tension in her posture had not eased. Nathaniel continued, his voice lowering slightly.
“I will not allow another woman to stain your name, and I will not allow anyone to wound you again in my presence.”
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.
“Her circumstances were difficult,” he said. “Not identical to yours, but close enough that I recognized the pattern. Financial pressure, a family willing to look the other way if it meant preserving appearances, and a young woman with very little real control over her future.”
Margaret watched him now, her expression carefully guarded.
“I helped where I could,” Nathaniel continued. “The same way that I did with your family.”
There was no pride in his voice when he said it, only a matter-of-fact acceptance of responsibility.
“I never intended to pursue a match with her,” he added after a moment. “Not once.”
Margaret’s fingers tightened slightly against the fabric of her dress. It did not help her to see that she was different, but he preferred honesty.
“But she believed otherwise,” she said quietly. “Is that what you are trying to say?”
Nathaniel exhaled through his nose.
“Yes.”
The single word carried a trace of frustration.
“I was careful,” he went on. “Or at least I believed I was. I made it clear that my involvement was practical and nothing more, yet Arabella has always been skilled at hearing only the parts of a conversation that suit her.”
Margaret looked back toward the window, watching the countryside slide past.
“And then you married me.”
“Yes.”
The answer came without hesitation.
Silence settled between them again, though it was less brittle than before. Margaret turned his explanation over in her mind, testing it against what she already knew of both of them.
It made sense. Too much sense, perhaps.
Nathaniel had always involved himself in other people’s problems with an intensity that bordered on reckless. She herself was proof of that. Without his intervention, her family’s situation might have collapsed entirely.
“I can believe that you helped her,” Margaret said after a while.
Nathaniel did not react immediately.
“But I cannot pretend that erases what I witnessed,” she continued. “Or the fact that she behaved as though she had some claim upon you.”
“She does not, for what it is worth.”
Margaret met his gaze briefly before looking away again.
“Perhaps not,” she said softly. “But trust is a difficult thing to repair once it has been broken.”
Nathaniel accepted the statement without protest. The carriage continued forward in quiet rhythm, the road gradually turning back toward Ravensmere in the growing light of morning.
Margaret rested her hands more loosely now, though the uncertainty in her eyes remained. She half accepted what he had told her, he could see that.
But she did not yet know what to believe.