She continued, "You think loving someone means never frightening them or disappointing them. It doesn't. People can love badly."
He gave a sad laugh. "That sounds like something you learned the hard way."
"My parents loved each other."
"Then why—"
"My father died young." Julian looked at her. "My mother never recovered." Eliza's voice softened. "I learned that losing someone can make you afraid to love anyone else."
Julian understood. "That is why you never wanted marriage."
"Yes."
He took her hand. "Then we are both foolish."
"Apparently."
They smiled. The moment was interrupted by a noise outside. Footsteps. Julian stood. Someone was approaching. He moved Eliza behind him.
She frowned. "I can defend myself."
"I know."
"Then why are you standing in front of me?"
"Because I want to."
She almost argued. Then she saw his face. He was not treating her as weak; he was frightened for her. She touched his back.
"Then we stand together."
He looked at her. "Together."
They waited. The door opened. It was Henry. He stared at them.
"Why are you both standing like that?"
Julian lowered his pistol. "You nearly died."
Henry blinked. "I came to tell you the carriage is ready."
Eliza laughed. Julian rubbed his forehead.
"I hate my family."
"No, you don't."
"Tonight I do."
The truth eventually led them to a man named Pritchard. He had been Julian's father's secretary. He was living under another name.
Julian confronted him. "You knew my father?"
Pritchard looked old. "I knew him."
"You stole from him?"
"Yes."
"You threatened Thomas Hart?"
"Yes."
"Did you kill my father?"
Pritchard looked down. "No."
Julian froze. "Then who?"
Pritchard swallowed. "My employer."
"Who?"
He gave the name: a respected nobleman, a man who had been a friend of Julian's father, the same man who had later helped Julian inherit the estate.
Julian returned home in silence. Eliza waited.