When the musicians completed the first movement, applause broke out. Lydia barely heard it. She crossed the ballroom with such determination that a pair of gentlemen stepped aside before realizing who she was. Nathaniel met her near a narrow passage leading to the portrait gallery. "You sent the note," she said. It was not a question. "I asked Mr. Alder to send it," he answered. "I thought you would refuse anything in my hand." Lydia looked at the orchestra, where the elderly violinist carefully placed his instrument beneath his chin. "You had no right to use my father's music to bring me here." Nathaniel accepted the accusation without flinching. "No," he said. "But I had something you needed to see, and very little time in which to show you."
She almost walked away. There was a particular cruelty in facing a man who had once known the safest corners of her heart, only to find that he could still reach them without permission. "You watched them call him a thief," she said quietly. "You heard every word. I looked at you because I thought you would tell them they were wrong." Nathaniel's jaw tightened. "I know." "And you did nothing." "I did worse than nothing," he replied. "I allowed you to believe my silence meant I agreed." His answer startled her, not because it offered forgiveness, but because it contained none of the excuses she had prepared herself to despise.
A pair of servants passed carrying trays of wine. Nathaniel waited until their footsteps faded. "My father kept papers from the relief society," he said. "I found them after his death last month. They contain a record of what happened to the missing funds." Lydia stared at him. His father, Judge Ashford, had been one of the society's most respected trustees, a man who personally signed the resolution accusing Daniel Bellamy. "If you have evidence," she said, "take it to a magistrate." "I have already spoken with one. The problem is that Wetherell controls the originals, and the people who might testify are afraid of him. Tonight the society's trustees are gathered in one place. Tonight he intends to accept another term as president. He cannot prevent every member from hearing us." Lydia felt both hope and anger rise. "Us? You have no right to decide what part I must play."
"Then decide it yourself," Nathaniel said. He took a folded paper from the inside of his coat but did not push it into her hands. "I will give you everything and leave if that is what you choose. I would rather