surface, the man who understood that a hidden truth could be more dangerous than a public enemy. He reached toward the letter in her hand. Lydia stepped back. "You have copies," he said, not bothering to make it a question. "Enough," she answered, though she had no idea how many Nathaniel had prepared. Wetherell glanced toward the door and found Nathaniel standing on the other side of the threshold. "Ashford," he said sharply. "Your father understood the cost of disloyalty." Nathaniel's reply was quiet. "My father understood it too late. I mean to be quicker."
Wetherell ordered them both to leave. Lydia was glad to obey, but when they reached the gallery, her courage faltered. The sounds of laughter and dancing rolled toward her like waves. Inside that room were men who owned ships, newspapers, banks, and half the warehouses along the river. Some had signed the accusation against her father. Others had profited from pretending not to know him. She could give Nathaniel the papers and allow him to accuse Wetherell in her place. Many people would consider that the sensible course. She might even escape the worst of the gossip. Yet she heard her father's voice again: Do not let them teach you to be ashamed of your own name.
"I will speak," she said. Nathaniel did not try to persuade her otherwise. "Then I will stand where you can see me," he replied. Lydia shook her head. "Stand where everyone can see you. They believed you once because you were an Ashford. Let them see what an Ashford does when he finally tells the truth." Nathaniel accepted that, too. Mr. Alder met them near the orchestra platform. His hands were trembling, but his eyes were bright. "I shall begin the tune once more," he said. "People pay attention when a familiar dance is interrupted by an unfamiliar melody." Lydia touched his sleeve. "Thank you for keeping it." Alder looked down at the old sheets. "Your father trusted me to keep more than music. This is the first night I have felt worthy of that trust."
As Wetherell stepped onto the little platform to receive the trustees' applause, Mr. Alder lifted his bow. The familiar opening of The Homeward Light slipped between the final notes of the dance, and people turned toward the orchestra in surprise. Lydia