In London, Whitmore had prepared the evidence: the marriage records were valid; the witnesses were valid; the priest had documented everything. The original agreement, however, could be used to make Evelyn appear temporary if someone deliberately ignored the later changes.
Nathaniel had one advantage: he had written a private letter after the wedding acknowledging Evelyn as his permanent wife. Evelyn read it.
"You wrote this?"
"Yes."
"When?"
"The night after our wedding."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"I didn't know whether it mattered."
"It matters now."
Nathaniel looked at her. "I knew you would stay."
"You weren't certain."
"No."
She folded the letter. "Then why write it?"
"Because I hoped."
She looked at him for a long moment. "You should have told me."
"I was afraid."
"Of what?"
"That you would say it was too late."
Her expression softened. "I might have."
He smiled. "Then perhaps I was wise to wait."
"No." She touched his sleeve. "You were a coward."
He laughed. "I prefer 'wise.'"
"Quite so."
The court hearing was tense. Sebastian arrived with lawyers; Nathaniel arrived with Whitmore; Evelyn sat beside him. The opposing counsel argued that the original arrangement proved the marriage was never intended to be permanent.
Nathaniel listened. Then he stood. "My marriage began with an agreement." The room became quiet. "I will not deny that." Evelyn looked at him. He continued, "But a marriage is not frozen at the moment two people sign a paper."
The lawyer objected. Nathaniel ignored him. "My wife and I changed our arrangement."
"Where is the evidence?"
Whitmore produced the letter. Then the witness statements. Then the church record. Then evidence of Sebastian's interference. The opposing counsel's argument weakened.
Finally, Sebastian stood. "This is all because she wants the title!"
Evelyn turned. "I do not want the title."
Sebastian laughed. "Then why remain?"
She stood. "Because I love my husband."
Silence. Nathaniel looked at her.
She continued, "And because our son deserves parents who choose each other."
Sebastian's face hardened. "You expect everyone to believe that?"
"No." Evelyn looked directly at him. "I expect you to believe that I have no reason to lie."
The judge ended the matter: the marriage stood; Sebastian's challenge failed.
But Nathaniel did not feel victorious; he felt exhausted. Outside the courthouse, Evelyn took his hand.
"You won."
"We won."
She smiled. "You are learning."
"What, pronouns?"
He laughed. They returned to Blackwood.
The journey home was quieter. Evelyn rested against the carriage seat; Nathaniel watched the countryside. After several miles, she asked, "Do you regret marrying me?"
He turned. "No. Not even a little. Not for a moment."
"Even when I argue?"
"Especially then."
"That makes no sense."
"It does to me."
She smiled. "Good."