"Then what?"
Nathaniel opened the first. His face changed. Evelyn waited. Finally, he handed it to her.
It was a letter from his father to his mother—not cold, not formal, but full of regret. His father had written about his fear of failing his family, about the pressure of the title, about loving his wife but not knowing how to show it. Evelyn read silently. Nathaniel looked away.
"I thought they hated each other."
"They were unhappy. That isn't the same thing."
"No." He sat down. "My father spent his whole life believing duty was enough."
Evelyn folded the letter. "Maybe he was wrong."
"He was."
"Are you?"
Nathaniel looked at her. "I don't want to be."
She crossed the room and sat beside him. "You aren't."
"How can you know?"
"Because you are trying."
He looked at her hand. Then he took it. For a while, they simply sat together: no dramatic declaration, no kiss, just understanding. That was the moment Evelyn realized she had fallen in love with him. She did not tell him; she was not ready, and neither was he. But something between them had become permanent.
The investigation also changed. Nathaniel discovered that one of his London agents had been bribed; Evelyn discovered the agent's wife was terrified. Instead of threatening the man, she spoke to his wife. The woman finally confessed: Sebastian had promised to protect their son from prosecution for a debt if the agent helped him obtain the documents.
Nathaniel was furious. Evelyn stopped him.
"Don't punish the boy for his father's mistake."
"I wasn't going to."
"You were thinking about it."
"I was reflecting about consequences."
"Then choose the right person."
He looked at her; she was right again. Nathaniel secured the boy's future and dismissed the agent from his position, but he kept the man's testimony. That testimony would later become the weapon Sebastian could not escape.
Back at Blackwood, Evelyn began to notice how often Nathaniel touched her: a hand at her waist when she descended stairs, a touch on her shoulder when he passed behind her, his fingers brushing hers when he handed her a book.
One evening, she caught him doing it. "You do that often."
"Do what?"
"Touch me."
He froze. "I suppose I do."
"Why?"
"I don't know."
She smiled. "That is a terrible answer."
"It is an honest one."
She stepped closer. "Then find a better one."
Nathaniel looked at her. "I like being near you."
Her breath caught. "I understand."
"Do you?"
"Yes."
"Then why ask?"
"Because I wanted to hear you say it."
He smiled. "That was clever."
"I am occasionally clever."
"Occasionally. Don't ruin it."
He laughed. Then he kissed her. It was brief, gentle, almost uncertain. When he pulled back, Evelyn stared at him.
"That was not in the agreement."
"No."
"Are you breaking your own rules?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
Nathaniel looked at her. "Because I no longer remember why I made them."
She touched his cheek. "Neither do I."
They kissed again. This time, neither of them pretended it was an accident.