When they arrived, their son was waiting in Lady Eleanor's arms. Nathaniel took him; Evelyn watched. The baby grabbed his father's cravat.
Nathaniel stared. "He has expensive taste."
"He has your habits."
"He has your determination."
"He has your stubbornness."
They looked at each other, then laughed.
Life became busy. Nathaniel returned to the estate; Evelyn resumed helping with the tenants. Their son grew. The estate accounts were repaired; the dishonest clerk was removed; the farms became profitable again.
And Sebastian disappeared from their lives—not entirely, for men like Sebastian rarely vanished, but he lost his influence. For the first time in years, Nathaniel slept without wondering who was waiting for him to die.
One afternoon, Evelyn found him in the garden. He was sitting beneath an oak tree with their son asleep against his chest. She stopped.
"You look comfortable."
"I am."
"You are holding him incorrectly."
Nathaniel looked down. "He is asleep."
"That doesn't mean you're doing it correctly."
"He has been asleep for an hour."
"Then perhaps you have accidentally succeeded."
Nathaniel smiled. She sat beside him.
"He looks like you."
"That is unfortunate."
"You said that before."
"I remain concerned."
She laughed. The child stirred; Nathaniel immediately lowered his voice. Evelyn watched him.
"You are a good father."
He looked at her. "I am trying."
"That is enough."
He reached for her hand. "I used to think being a good father meant protecting the family name."
"And now?"
"Now it means protecting the people."
She smiled. "You've changed."
"So have you."
"How?"
"You used to believe you had to survive alone."
She looked at him. "Perhaps I still do, sometimes."
"You don't have to."
She rested her head against his shoulder. "I remember."
That evening, Nathaniel found an old box in his study. Inside was his original marriage proposal; the document was still there—he had never destroyed the first copy. He brought it to Evelyn.
She read it, then laughed. "This is terrible."
"I understand."
"You actually wrote that I would receive a settlement after producing an heir."
"I was not thinking clearly."
"You were thinking like a duke."
"I was distracted, like a frightened man."
She looked at him. "That is different."
"Yes."
She folded the paper. "What will you do with it?"
"Burn it."
She shook her head. "No."
"Why?"
"Keep it."
"Why?"