guests to hear, "how generous of you to join us. It is time old difficulties were laid aside." His words sounded like an invitation to peace. His expression made them feel like an order.
"Difficulties are easier to lay aside when the truth has been established," Lydia answered. The conversation nearest them faltered. Wetherell's smile remained, but a small muscle tightened beside his mouth. "Tonight is not an occasion for unpleasant history," he replied. "Please enjoy the music. We have arranged the finest players in the city." He moved away before she could ask whether he knew who had sent her the note. Lydia watched him greet another guest, instantly warm again, and understood that he had not become any less dangerous merely because the room was beautiful.
Then she saw Nathaniel. He stood just beyond a group of gentlemen, his dark hair carefully brushed back, his features more severe than she remembered. Their eyes met. For one terrible moment, the entire ballroom seemed to fall away, replaced by the memory of a summer garden, a borrowed book, and his hand reaching for hers beneath a willow tree. Nathaniel made no attempt to approach. Instead, he looked toward the orchestra and gave the slightest nod to the older violinist standing beside the music stand. Lydia's stomach tightened. The first three notes began, soft and unmistakable.
The melody was called The Homeward Light. Her father had written it on a rainy afternoon when he and Lydia's mother were newly married. Its opening sounded almost like a question, rising gently before falling back upon itself. Lydia knew every phrase because Daniel had taught her to accompany him on the piano. When she was a child, he would stop at the same place each time and wait for her to supply the final chord. "Every tune must leave room for someone else," he used to say. Now she heard the violin climb toward that familiar pause, and she closed her eyes before she could stop herself. Beneath the chandeliers, with strangers on every side, she was suddenly home again.
She remembered the family hearth and Samuel asleep beneath a blanket. The music did not prove her father's innocence or return the years they had lost. But someone had brought this private piece into the room where his name had been destroyed, and that could not be an accident. Lydia opened her eyes to find Nathaniel still watching her. This time he did not look away.