"They are rarely simple." Nathaniel turned his palm upward but did not reach for her. "Only necessary."
Clara hesitated, then placed her fingertips against his. He closed his hand slowly around hers. No urgency, no possession, just warmth.
"Why me?" she whispered before she could stop herself.
Nathaniel's thumb moved once across her knuckles. "Because you never asked me to become smaller so you can feel safer."
Clara's breath softened. "That is not a very romantic answer."
"I have been told my manners are poor repeatedly. Would you prefer a lie about your eyes?"
She smiled. "No."
"Good. Because your eyes are presently judging me constantly."
Their shared laughter faded into silence. Nathaniel lifted her hand slightly, then stopped before bringing it to his lips. The restraint was more intimate than a kiss would have been.
"Clara," he said.
Footsteps sounded again, hurried this time. Edward entered alone, carrying several folded papers. His face was pale. Clara withdrew her hand, but not quickly enough to pretend nothing had happened. Edward saw.
"We are leaving for Whitmore Park tomorrow morning."
"Why?"
"Because Pembroke has agreed to suspend action against the estate."
Clara looked at the papers. "In exchange for what?"
Edward placed them on a marble table. "The settlement."
She unfolded the first page. Her name appeared beside Pembroke's. Below it were financial terms, property provisions, and a proposed marriage date 6 weeks away. Nathaniel came no closer, though Clara could feel the anger in his silence. She turned the final page. Edward's signature was already there.
"You signed this."
"It is only an agreement in principle. Without asking me. I was trying to save our home."
Clara raised her eyes. "By selling mine."
Edward flinched. "Pembroke will withdraw. If you refuse, the creditors will proceed. Whitmore Park could be lost."
Nathaniel finally spoke. "I can purchase the debt tomorrow."
Clara turned sharply toward him. Edward went white with relief. "Your Grace."
"No." Clara's voice cut across both men. Nathaniel stared at her. "No." She folded the settlement and placed it carefully on the table. "If you buy Edward's debt, he keeps his estate, his reputation, and the belief that another person will always pay for his choices. And you could lose your home."
"Then perhaps I lose it." Nathaniel's jaw tightened.
Clara stepped closer to him. "You told me necessary choices are rarely simple."
"I did."
"Then trust me enough to make mine."
For several seconds, the feared Duke said nothing. Then, with visible effort, he stepped back. "Very well."
Edward stared between them. "Clara, you cannot possibly fix this."
She picked up the marriage settlement and tore it cleanly through her name. "Perhaps not," she said. "But tomorrow I am going to open every ledger you have tried to keep from me. And this time, Edward, I will not repair your mistakes in silence."
"Then you will not do it alone," Edward said.
Clara looked at him across the torn settlement. "You misunderstand. I am not asking for your assistance."
His face reddened. "It is my estate."
"Then tomorrow you may finally learn what is happening to it."
Edward opened his mouth, but Nathaniel moved toward the door. "The lady has answered you."
Clara shot him a warning glance. Nathaniel stopped. For one dangerous second, she thought he would use his title and end the argument for her. Instead, he bowed slightly. "Forgive me. Old habits."
Edward stared at him in disbelief. Clara almost smiled.
"Tomorrow," she said to her brother. "Every ledger."
By noon the following day, Whitmore Park's library was covered in three years of financial damage. Clara sat at her father's old desk with account books stacked around her. Edward paced before the fire. Nathaniel stood near the windows, exactly where Clara had asked him to remain: present, silent, uninvolved. Mr. Fletcher, the estate steward, placed another bundle of receipts beside her.
"These payments were never entered into the household books, Miss Whitmore."
Clara examined them. Gambling notes, private loans, payments to brokers. One enormous expenditure connected to the western fields.
"Edward, you borrowed against the harvest before purchasing the additional acreage."
He stopped pacing. "It was an investment on land that floods. Pembroke said..."
"Pembroke knew it flooded." Clara looked at the dates. Her eyes narrowed. "He encouraged the purchase, then lent you money against it."
Mr. Fletcher cleared his throat. "There is more." He produced correspondence bearing Pembroke's seal. Clara read the first letter, then the second. The pattern emerged with sickening clarity. Pembroke had repeatedly encouraged Edward toward expensive ventures, then offered increasingly unfavorable loans when they failed.
"He didn't rescue you," Clara said. "He cultivated your desperation."
Edward sank into a chair. "Why?"
Clara looked at the marriage settlement. "Because eventually, you would have something he wanted."
Edward's eyes moved toward her and dropped.
Nathaniel's hand closed against the window frame. Clara saw it. "Nathaniel."
He released it immediately. "Still here."
"Stay there."
His jaw worked once. "I gave my word."
Edward gave a bitter laugh. "How touching."
Clara turned on him. "Do not mistake his restraint for your innocence." The room went still. "You signed away my future because admitting your mistakes frightened you more than sacrificing me."
Edward looked down. "I thought I could repair it afterward."
"That is what I have been doing for you for 3 years." She opened her leather portfolio and removed copies of correspondence she had kept. Lease negotiations, drainage estimates, tenant arrangements, creditor warnings, and calculations Edward had ignored. She placed them beside the estate ledgers. "There is enough here to show exactly which decisions were mine and which were yours."
Edward's face changed. "You kept copies."
"I learned to."
"If these become public, people will know you mismanaged Whitmore Park. Clara, I will be ruined."