Genevieve looked away again; tears escaped despite her efforts. "Stop."
"Why?"
"Because I want to be angry."
The confession nearly broke his heart. Nathaniel understood then: she was not struggling with whether he had betrayed her; she already knew he had. She was struggling because, despite that betrayal, she still cared.
Several moments passed before she finally spoke again. "How long?"
"Since the first day."
Her eyes closed briefly. "The stables?"
"Yes."
"The horse?"
"Yes."
A disbelieving laugh escaped her. "I ordered a duke to saddle my horse."
Nathaniel smiled despite everything. "You did."
"And you did it."
"I did."
For the first time since the conversation began, a small smile touched her face; it vanished quickly, yet it existed. Hope stirred inside him.
Then another voice interrupted: "Genevieve."
Both turned. Victoria stood several yards away, her expression revealing immediate curiosity, then surprise, then caution. "I did not realize you were occupied."
Genevieve wiped quickly at her eyes. "What do you need?"
Victoria hesitated. "There is a situation in the drawing room."
Nathaniel immediately noticed something unusual: Victoria looked nervous—truly nervous; not jealous, not irritated: nervous.
Genevieve noticed it, too. "What happened?"
Victoria glanced toward Nathaniel briefly. "Someone arrived from London."
Silence followed. "Who?" Genevieve asked.